Rebekah's Treasure (40 page)

Joanna rearranges the deep lines on her cheeks when she smiles. It’s not difficult to see by her face that she’s had a hard life. She takes a seat beside Judith, but as she does she slides one hand to the waist of her tunic to conceal the patched fabric. “I brought my cousin the date cakes and honey jars like you asked, with your compliments and good wishes. And just as I said, nothing loosens Quintus’s tongue like honey.” She giggles, sounding almost childlike. “I couldn’t get him to stop talking after that.”

I feel my impatience rise. “Did you see her? Did you see the wood carrier? The one they call Esther?”

“Oh I did, indeed,” Joanna says, sounding very pleased with herself. “A scrawny thing. As pale as chalk. But Quintus said she works well enough.”

“And . . . what does she look like? Describe her.
Please
.” I’m barely able to contain myself.

“She was pretty, at least she would be if she had some meat on her bones. But she had other qualities. Long eyelashes for one; the longest I’ve ever seen. And eyes as big as flatbreads. Only . . . .”

“Yes?” I say leaning closer.

“Only, her eyes looked dead, like there was nothing behind them, no spark, no life. And she walked as one sleeping. But I’ve seen plenty like her. Poor girl. No telling what she’s been through. All things considered, she’s well off. Quintus is not a cruel man. He doesn’t follow the Way, but he’s not a cruel man. She could have done worse. Now, if she had been sold to a brothel, for instance, that would . . . .”

“Yes. Yes, we quite understand.” Judith rises to her feet, then pulls a few coins from a silk pouch attached to the belt of her
stola
and hands them to Joanna.

“Oh, no, no. Not necessary, no, not necessary at all. I was happy to do you this service.”

Judith presses the coins into Joanna’s hand. “Your husband is still recovering from his injury. It may be some time before he’s able to go back to work. Allow me this blessing.”

Joanna frowns. “Who knew a camel could do such damage! My husband’s foot has been as swollen as a melon since that beast stepped on him. He can barely walk. But God willing, he’ll soon return to the market with his water skin slung on his shoulder and his wooden cup in hand, offering drinks to thirsty passersby for the usual fee.” Her fingers curl slowly around the coins. “Jesus
did
say it was more blessed to give than receive. So I won’t deny you your blessing.” With that she kisses my sister and turns to go.

“I almost forgot,” Joanna says, spinning around to face me. “It seems the Market Manager has been scouring the city for you.”

“For me?” I place a finger on my chest in disbelief.

“I didn’t give you away. But someone who saw Judith come to your aid in the marketplace has told him about it. He’s sure to send his men here. No one knows why he wants to see you, but his slaves claim he’s obsessed with the matter.” Her world-weary face furrows as she picks nervously at her long tunic. “I don’t know what you’ve done, but Cassius Flavillus is not a man you want as an enemy. You must take care.”

Judith smiles. “I’m sure it’s nothing. A misunderstanding only. Be at peace.” With that she ushers Joanna out of the room.

“Perhaps you should leave the city,” Judith says when she returns. “It’s evident Cassius Flavillus is as angry as you thought. It’s not wise to stay.”

“And leave Esther?”

“I can see to her. I’ll think of some way to get her back.”

“And when Cassius’s men come? What then? Shall I leave you to face his displeasure?”

“My husband’s wealth has made him powerful. Cassius would not dare to trouble us without cause. And what are we guilty of, anyway? Having you as a guest in my house?”

“You may be rich and powerful, but you’re also a follower of Jesus. You know how suspicious the Romans are of believers, and how they hold them in contempt. I’ve hurt Cassius’s pride. Might he not try to humble you if he believes you’ve had some hand at thwarting his attempt to find me?

“But it’s not only you I think of. What of Ethan and my sons? If Cassius is as intent on finding me as Joanna said, then no one I love is safe. Not Ethan or Aaron or Benjamin. Even now, they await word from me regarding Esther. If they find out I’ve fled and they follow, that will endanger them as well. And what of all the captives they have purchased and their plans to free them? And then there’s Zechariah. It would be a simple matter to find him at Hannah’s. Oh, Judith, surely you must understand that everyone I’ve been seen with will be in danger if I run. And I’ll not secure my freedom at the cost of all of yours.”

Judith sits down beside me, takes my hand, then presses it between hers. “You are the only family I have left. Mama, Papa, brother Asher, Uncle Abner, gone, all gone. I don’t want to lose you now, not after our sweet reunion.” She puts an arm around my shoulder and presses her cheek to mine. “But you’ve always been stubborn so I know it’s useless to try dissuading you. So tell me, what will you do and how can I help?”

“I must trust the Lord and go to this Cassius to learn of my offense. And you must pray.”

Before I can test my courage and go to the Market Manager’s house, his two lictors come to Judith’s and take me away.

I walk between them now, on the Decumanus Maximus, a wide street flanked on each side by a majestic marble colonnade and walkway. We head toward a large house near the market. To my right is the ever imposing Temple of Augustus, to my left, jutting into the sea is the daunting palace of Herod the Great, now occupied by the Romans.

My guides speak not a word. And since they’re strong, roughlooking men who seem neither to want nor encourage conversation, I remain silent as well. They each carry their bundle of white birch rods tied by red leather straps. The one consolation is that no bronze ax head is tied to them as well, for they do not have the power to execute since Caesarea is governed by a Procurator.

The sidewalks are full, and people stare and whisper as we pass. But few look me in the face. We finally stop at a house just outside the market, a house that sits beneath the shadow of the massive Temple of Augustus.

A tall, stern-looking man with the flat face of an owl opens the door when one of the lictors knocks. “Follow me,” he says gruffly. I obey, and notice my guides follow too, as though discouraging any escape. And
it’s not until I’m ushered into a large room where the Market Manager lays sprawled on a couch eating an early evening meal, that they depart.

The long, low table is covered with bowls of fruit, bread, various meats, and a jug of wine. The Manager continues eating a fig without a word or even glancing my way. He makes me stand so long my legs tire and I’m forced to shift my weight. My mind races with scenarios of the worst kind, thoughts of imprisonment, torture, even death. I suppose it was his intention that I ponder my fate.

“Well,” he finally says, wiping his hands on a large cloth. “I see my men have found you at last.” He rolls his barrel-shaped body around so he can face me. His fleshy lids puff over his eyes, making it almost appear as though he’s asleep. “You have caused me great inconvenience.” He studies me through the slits of his eyes. “I’ve been searching for you for days. I’ve bribed, threatened, cajoled. I’ve upset my entire household. How, I wonder, shall I repay you for all this trouble?”

“I . . . would have come sooner, my lord, had I known my presence was required. Forgive my ignorance.”

“Yes, well, sooner or later they all beg. But it won’t help you. I’ve made up my mind. And I’m determined to follow it.”

“What have I done, sir?”

“
Done
?” his voice thunders like a gong. “Can you be so ignorant, woman, that you don’t know?” He kneads his doughy cheeks between his fingers, his eyes fierce.

My heart pounds as I think of Esther in this house, as I think of Ethan and my sons, and my mind forms desperate prayers. “Whatever my offense, perhaps I can make it right. At least let me try. Allow me to change it or . . . .”

“Change it! No! Never! I won’t allow it!” With that he laughs, then claps his chubby hands in glee while I stare dumbfounded. “‘Make it right,’ she says. Ha!” He suddenly leaps off the couch and dances around the room, jumping and stomping until finally I realize he’s no longer lame.

“Your leg . . . is healed,” I stammer.

He lifts his robe slightly so I can see that the once shriveled leg is as round and firm as his other one. “It took two days. But hour by hour it became plumper and stronger and fuller. Oh, the wonder of it! Such a thing I’ve never seen. And
you
did it!”

“Not I, sir, but my God.”

“Ah, yes . . . this Hebrew God of yours. But I’m told you were found in the house of one who follows the Way.”

“Yes, for I also follow the Way,” I say quickly, not willing for him to know of my family connection to Judith, though I don’t know why.

The Market Manager frowns. “I’ve heard of this man-God of yours, the one crucified by Pontius Pilate. A strange religion. But I won’t quarrel with you. If you say your God healed my leg, so be it. I’ll honor him by making sacrifices in our temple.”

“Oh . . . you mustn’t do that.”

“Doesn’t this God of yours like sacrifices?”

“Only if it’s your own heart.”

The Manager smiles. “Ah, you play with words. It’s not my heart he would have as a bloody offering on the altar, is it?”

I shake my head. “No, my lord, it’s your love He wants.”

“Love a god? You don’t love the gods. You fear them, honor them, pay homage to them with the obligatory sacrifices, but love them? Such an idea! I’ll hear no more of it.” He returns to the table and sits down, then quickly reaches for a honey cake and takes a bite. He chews awhile, knotting his brow as though in thought. “Still . . . I feel obligated to do something.” He shoves the last of the cake into his mouth. “And so I’ll reward you directly. Name what you wish and you shall have it.”

“
Whatever
I wish?”

The Manager brushes crumbs off his toga and laughs. “Can a simple woman like you desire much? Let us see. Name the desire, and allow me the pleasure of fulfilling it.”

“I desire one of your kitchen slaves, Esther the wood carrier. She’s nothing in your household.”

“But something to you?” The Manager eyes me curiously.

“Yes, a great deal.” Perhaps I shouldn’t have answered truthfully, for I see him hesitate. Will he change his mind? But my fear is groundless, for suddenly he slaps the table and laughs.

“I’m glad this wood carrier is important to you, for it makes my gift all the greater. Take her, she’s yours.” He calls the steward of his house and tells him to give me a scroll, stamped with his seal, freeing the slave girl, Esther. And with a wave of his hand dismisses us both.

My heart pounds as I follow the steward into the kitchen, carrying the stamped scroll in my hand. The kitchen is a large, bright space with two wooden tables in the center and assorted metal spoons and pots hanging on one wall. And the stone cooking area is three times the size of Hannah’s. A fire crackles in the curved hearth, and a pot bubbles on the stone counter above it. A man stands alongside it, holding a large wooden spoon in his hand.

“Call the slave, Esther,” the steward says to the cook. And without a word, Joanna’s cousin, Quintus, leaves his pot and disappears. I hear his raspy voice call my daughter’s name. Within minutes he returns, followed by a thin, dirt-smudged young woman with stringy hair, her tunic covered in wood shavings.

“Go with this Jewess. You are hers now,” the steward barks. “But see that you take nothing but the tunic on your back! For all else belongs to the master.”

The thin woman nods, then looks shyly at me. And when she does, I nearly burst into tears. Her face is drawn but pretty. Her eyes are indeed as large as flat breads, and her eyelashes as long as rushes, but she is
not
my Esther.

“Come,” I say, trying to swallow the lump in my throat as I lead the stranger out of the Market Manager’s house.