by Carol Ashby
He’d betrayed her trust that morning. How could she trust him this much so soon? He didn’t deserve it. Was it her Christian heart that made it possible to forgive and trust him?
“Does that help?”
She opened her eyes. “Yes, master. Thank you.”
“I’ll do this again in the morning before I leave.” He set the jar on the counter and capped it.
When he turned, he found Claudia watching him from the doorway, smiling broadly. He wrapped his arm around her and drew her into the courtyard as he left the kitchen. A few steps in, he glanced back at the kitchen. Miriam was singing softly.
It was good he’d stopped Nestor. The house wouldn’t feel like home if she was gone.
As Titus descended the stairs the next morning, her bell-toned voice wrapped around him. Her songs were what made breakfast so enjoyable. To think he almost sold her...
He turned into the kitchen instead of going to the dining room, where she usually served his breakfast. It was already prepared and arranged on the tray she planned to present to him. She was kneading the day’s bread as she sang.
He walked to the counter and picked up the ointment.
“Miriam.”
She startled and spun around to face him. As she took a step back, she tripped on a sack of flour and began to fall backward.
He grabbed her hand with his empty one and pulled, stopping her fall and swinging her toward himself. He didn’t want to drop the ointment, so instead of grabbing her with his second hand, he wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her close.
Miriam’s eyes saucered as the master held her so close, smiling at her. Her heart began to race as he held her for a moment. His smile grew warmer, and she felt her face warm as she blushed. She’d grown comfortable with his arm around her when they rode together, but she most definitely was not comfortable with him holding her so close in the kitchen.
When he released her, she took two steps back.
A smile tugged at the corner of the master’s mouth. “Careful there. Don’t let my cook get hurt. Who’d be fixing my dinner tonight? Claudia and I have come to expect the best, and I don’t know who else would deliver that.”
“I’ll try to be more careful, master. You startled me.”
She looked down, trying to hide the blush until it faded from her cheeks.
“Make sure you do. Now come closer so I can put some more ointment on that bruise.”
Miriam would have preferred the master not touch her face just then. It felt too wonderful when he touched her so gently. She hadn’t fully recovered from his arm holding her close, and she was afraid she couldn’t keep from blushing again. But he was the master, so she obeyed.
He took her chin in his free hand and tilted her head back until she was looking into his eyes. The gentleness there surprised her.
“Now close your eyes, and don’t move.”
She was glad to close them. Looking into his eyes when he was standing so close made her heart beat too fast.
With the tip of his finger, he rubbed ointment into the bruise. When the gentle pressure from his finger stopped, she opened her eyes. A frown pulled his mouth down. Was he angry with her again?
“Don’t be afraid of me, Miriam. I’m not going to hit you again.”
“Yes, master.” She wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t...not yet.
He placed his hand on her unbruised cheek and stroked it with his thumb.
“I don’t want to hurt you again...ever.”
A sad smile accompanied the slow shake of his head as he looked at her cut, bruised cheek. Then he turned and sat at the table. He picked up a dried fig from his breakfast tray and popped it into his mouth.
“You can go back to your dough, and keep singing. I like to start my day with some music.”
“Yes, master.”
Her mouth curved as she turned back to the lump of dough. He was still treating her like a real person. He must truly care that he’d hurt her, and that thought warmed her heart.
It was easy to sing a psalm of thanksgiving as she resumed her kneading. The master she loved was being kind to her again. Her heart sang because, in spite of his order to sell her yesterday, he still wanted her there.
That evening, Miriam was still downstairs cleaning up after dinner when Claudia heard someone enter her room. She looked up to see Titus carrying a stack of papyrus sheets. He sighed as he handed them to her.
“Here. You might as well read this now. You’ve already become a Christian, so it can’t do any harm for you to see Father’s last letter to me. He wrote it the day before he died, when he was in the cell at the Amphitheater.”
Claudia took the sheets of paper and eagerly read the entire contents before turning her face back toward Titus.
“Thank you so much for sharing this with me. Father tried to tell me this, but I was too busy to listen. I might not have understood him before, but I do now.”
“Well, I don’t understand him. I don’t understand how he could forgive that treacherous son of a…” He paused. “That brother of ours. I still want to kill him, even though Father ordered me not to.”
“I want to be like Father the way he forgave Lucius. Jesus commands us to love each other, even our enemies. God is making it easier for me every day. When my hatred made me think hurting Lucius could free my heart from pain, Philip told me that forgiveness was the way to freedom, not vengeance. I didn’t understand then, but now I do. Jesus helps me forgive Lucius, and I really do feel free. Let it go, Titus. Hating Lucius won’t bring Father back. Father forgave him. If he could forgive what Lucius did, we should, too.”
“In my head, I know you’re probably right, but in my heart...I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can. Let Jesus in, follow him, and you’ll be amazed at how liberating it is to forgive.”
“Following your Jesus is what got Father killed. I’m not willing to do that, Claudia. I’ll honor Father’s wish that I don’t avenge his death with my sword in Lucius’s heart, but that’s as far as I’m willing to go. You’ll never convince me I shouldn’t hate Lucius for what he did, even if I don’t try to kill him.”
“But you’ll feel so much better yourself, and―”
“I don’t intend to discuss this anymore, Claudia. You’ll have to settle for me being willing not to kill him.”
The coldness in his eyes and the firm set of his jaw told Claudia it was time to drop the subject, but that wouldn’t keep her from praying for Titus to come to Jesus and learn to forgive.
It was three and a half weeks since Philip left Perinthus, and he was ready to be home. He leaned back in his chair as the harvest celebration at his Odessus estate swirled around him. Another good year for the livestock, another bountiful harvest of wheat...he should be happy.
But he wasn’t. Too often, the words of his last conversation with Claudia played in his mind. The sound of her sobs echoed in his head.
He’d hoped to return in four weeks, but it had taken longer than he expected to find the land he wanted and make the deal. Finally, that part of his business was completed, but it was still a week’s ride back to Perinthus. Four weeks had turned into four and a half, but was that long enough for Miriam to have found the right time to talk with Claudia?
He closed his eyes and pulled a deep breath. God, tomorrow we head home. I thank you for the harvest and the success of the trip, and I ask you for a safe journey home. His lips tightened. But what will I find when I get there? Have you claimed her heart so I can ask for her hand?
He opened his eyes to see the new wife of his Moesian steward offer her husband a platter of fruit. As two pairs of eyes locked in a silent caress, his own heart clenched. Would Claudia ever look at him like that again? And if she didn’t, how was he to bear it? Even worse, what if she did, but she refused to follow his Lord and it must all come to nothing?
He forced a smile as the fruit platter was offered to him.
One more week, and he would know.
Chapter 69: Just Like a Lady
It was two weeks since Master Titus learned the mistress was a Christian, and life in the household had returned to its usual rhythm. The bruise had faded, the cut had healed, and the master was still treating Miriam like a person. With each passing day, she found it a little easier to trust his promise to never hit her again.
Lunch was over. Miriam picked up a bucket and headed into the courtyard. She was lowering it into the well when Mistress Claudia stopped her.
“Come with me, Miriam. I thought of something much more fun to do than watch you scrub the floors today. When I was in Rome, my best friend Aemilia and I used to try on each other’s clothes and jewelry. We’d play at styling hair, too.”
She ran her fingers through Miriam’s thick brown tresses, lifting them away from her face and letting them slowly fall back into place.
“You have beautiful hair. Let’s go up to my room, and I’ll style it for you.”
“I should scrub the floors, mistress. The master expects me to keep the house clean for you.” The mistress treating her like a Roman lady was not a good idea. Miriam knew her place in the master’s eyes, and stepping out of her role as a slave was not something he’d like.
“They’re already clean enough for me, and Titus won’t know the difference.” She ran her fingers through Miriam’s hair again. “You’re not just his slave, Miriam. You’re my friend, too. I want to do this for you. When you brush and style my hair, it’s very relaxing. It makes me feel good, and I want you to feel good, too.”
“But the master wouldn’t approve.”
“Titus won’t know we do it any more than he knows I help cook.” Claudia smiled at her reluctance. “Do I have to order you to let me have fun doing this?”
“No, mistress.”
“Good. Let’s go have some fun, and don’t worry about Titus. I’ll make your hair look just like it does now before he sees you.”
Claudia took Miriam’s hand and led her upstairs.
Mistress pulled out the chair at the dressing table. “Sit here, and I’ll get started.”
As the mistress played with Miriam’s hair, she hummed one of their favorite songs. Miriam watched Mistress Claudia’s happy face in the silver mirror. It felt wonderful to have her hair brushed. It felt almost as good to have it braided and pinned up to make her look like a Roman lady. Miriam’s discomfort with her mistress doing for her what she normally did for her mistress vanished when she saw how much fun Mistress had doing it.
Mistress put the final pins in place to complete the style. “There. I think you look lovely. Even prettier than Aemilia, and she’s a pretty girl. If you were in one of my tunics, we could pass you off as a lady even in Rome.”
As she spoke, Mistress reached for one of her perfume bottles. She tipped it upside down to get some on the stopper. Then she applied a little behind each of Miriam’s ears. “That’s better. Now you even smell like a Roman lady.”
Miriam smiled at her kind mistress. She was right. It really had been a fun way to spend the afternoon, but now it was time to return to work.
“I need to start the master’s dinner now.”
Mistress began taking the pins out of Miriam’s hair. “We’re going to do this again. I like spending the afternoon this way.”
After she pulled the last pin out, she ran her fingers through Miriam’s hair and shook it back into its natural flowing style. “There. Titus will never know we did this.”
“No, mistress.”
“Let’s go start dinner. I get to do the pastries.” She chuckled. “That’s another thing Titus never needs to know. We’ll see if he likes my pastries better than your sauce.”
She laughed again. “Titus loves your cooking. He thinks it’s funny the way you blush when he praises you, but he isn’t just teasing. You really are the best cook in the city.”
Titus entered the kitchen ready for another delicious dinner after a long day. Miriam turned her head to smile at him as she continued to stir the sauce.
“Welcome home, master.”
He walked over close behind her to steal his quick taste before going to wash up. As he began to reach past her to take the spoon, he sniffed.
“You smell as good as the sauce, Miriam.” He nuzzled her neck as he inhaled the faint scent.
Miriam turned scarlet. She looked down and tried to step sideways to get away from him, but he blocked her way with his arm. He sniffed her neck one more time before he dropped his arm so she could escape.
Her skittishness drew a grin. Then he saw the fear as she glanced back up at him. His playful attention had really upset her. That hadn’t been his intention.
“It’s not what you’re thinking, Miriam. I told you you’re not my nighttime entertainment, and I’ll keep my word. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
“Yes, master. I mean, no, master.”
“I know I broke my word once, but I won’t do it again.”
Titus stepped close to her again. Her eyes widened, then calmed when he only took the spoon from her hand. He stirred the sauce once, then lifted a small sample to his lips.
“Another exceptional one. All Philip’s money can’t buy better.”
With an appreciative smile on his lips, he handed her the spoon before he headed across the courtyard to wash up before dinner.
Miriam placed her hand on her chest, trying to slow her heartbeat. The master had no idea what exquisite agony such attention was for her. To love a man, to know he would never love her in return yet to have him tease her that way. His attention was so wonderful…and so painful.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Oh, God! Please help me with this. Please help me to love him only as a good master, not as a man.
She sighed deeply and returned to stirring the sauce that she’d prepared to give him pleasure. God would give her strength to focus only on the pleasure of serving her master well, not on the pain of loving with no return.
After dinner and his bath, Titus climbed the stairs and entered his room. Once more, he closed his door and took his father’s letter from the chest. Since the day he let Claudia read it, there was something about it that kept drawing him back to read it again and again. He couldn’t stop thinking about his father’s choices and why he’d made them.
It hadn’t taken long for him to decide Father had been right in deciding to become a God-fearer. His logic was totally convincing. Although Titus had no intention of finding a synagogue and joining them in worship, he’d become a God-fearer himself. He’d seen enough of the world to know that men, including himself, were unfit to approach a holy God, so he understood his father’s concern about how to pay for his sins so he could.
Several times Claudia had told him revenge could never undo their loss, that God had said vengeance belonged to Him alone. Father’s letter said the same, but he still wanted to repay Lucius himself with a sword, not wait for God to do something.
Claudia said that was a big part of his problem, that he needed to forgive. Her eyes glowed every time she told him how good it felt to forgive Lucius and how she wished he would. She’d told him how Jesus had even asked God the Father to forgive the soldiers who crucified him. He couldn’t imagine any ordinary man being able to do that as he hung on a cross. Maybe he really was the Son of God, like his father had written.
What he still questioned was why a god would ever sacrifice himself just to spare ordinary men from the punishment they deserved. How could anyone, god or otherwise, ever deliberately choose a horrible death so someone else wouldn’t have to suffer? And why would any rational man choose to die when offering a meaningless pinch of incense would spare his life?
He returned the letter to the chest. He’d probably be looking at it again tomorrow, but he didn’t intend to tell Claudia how much the whole thing kept bothering him. Maybe someday he’d figure it all out, and it wouldn’t bother him anymore.
Mistress Claudia had declared it another afternoon for dress-up. She sorted through her tunics to pick the one she wanted to try on Miriam.
“I think this green one would be nice. We haven’t tried it yet.”
“It’s beautiful, mistress. The fabric is so soft.”
“I used to wear green a lot in Rome. Aemilia thought it looked especially good with my hair, but Philip likes the sky-blue ones better.”
Mistress stood holding the green tunic while Miriam took off her plain beige one. She lifted the green one over Miriam’s head and let it cascade down around her.
“Oh, Miriam. This is the prettiest color on you yet. Now let’s do your hair.”
She brushed Miriam’s thick brown hair, then wrapped it around her hand.
“I could braid it and wrap it at the back of your head, or twist it into little curls, or maybe today we should just use my gold hair net. The gold is so pretty against the dark brown. I don’t think it looks nearly as good with my hair as it does on yours.”
“Everything looks better on you, mistress. You’re so beautiful; you make anything look good.”
“Don’t be silly. Everything doesn’t look better on me. You’re a very pretty woman, too.”
Mistress wrapped Miriam’s long, thick hair around itself to make it compact enough to pull the fine gold net up around it. Then she released it to fill the net before she pinned the rim of the net securely across Miriam’s crown with small gold clips shaped like tiny butterflies. Finally, she hung a fine gold chain around her neck and slid her wide gold bracelet on Miriam’s wrist.
“I like that. Look at yourself, Miriam. You’re beautiful.”