Faithful Daughter of Israel

by Wanda Ann Thomas

  Reaching the end of the point, the boat crashed headlong into a series of cresting waves, sending a fine mist of water over them.

  She shrieked with surprise and delight. “Can we do it again?”

  There was no telling when she would experience another day quite as wonderful as this.

  ∞∞∞

  Drops of water hung from Anna’s lashes. Her large brown eyes danced with merriment.

  Julian grinned back. “I’ll see what I can do when we come about. But first, I have one more surprise.”

  He pushed a wet strand of hair away from her face. Her smile dimmed but did not totally disappear. The water glistening and pearling on her skin drew his fingers like a magnet. He brushed the tips lightly over her cheek.

  Her eyes clouded.

  Cursing his lack of restraint, he pulled back and directed her attention to the seaside amphitheater.

  Tiered seating faced seaward, poised to take advantage of the seascape and spectacular sunsets. Just last evening, he had attended a play. The performance had been forgettable, not so the brilliant sunset. Swaths of orange, yellow, and red mixed and blazed across the still sea. The breathtaking crescendo of color constituted the finest final act he had ever had the privilege to witness.

  But she had drawn turtle-like back into her shell. No doubt the result of his pushing himself upon her. He motioned the helmsman to take them back in.

  The skiff passed uneventfully back into the harbor, past the temple of Augustus and Roma dominating the view.

  “I did not realize Caesarea had so many heathen temples.”

  Among a multitude of unpleasant smells, Julian picked out the whiff of burnt offerings. “I dare say we heathens like to sacrifice almost as much as you Jews do.”

  His own actions were proof of that. Jerusalem being bereft of heathen Temples, the trip to Caesarea afforded him a chance to visit the temple dedicated to the goddess Roma. Not of a religious bent, he counted it a nuisance.

  His men, more superstitious than religious, expected it of him.

  “It is not right.”

  “Caesarea is, after all, half heathen.”

  She frowned at that.

  He wanted to tell her not to fret over a few minor temples. Compared to the forum of temples in Rome and Athens, Caesarea’s paltry offerings were laughable. Considering the limited life she had led—the only city the young Jewess had ever known was Jerusalem—he looked at the city through her eyes. The white marbled buildings, columned porches, ornate fountains, and paved streets could be mistaken for a Roman avenue.

  “You have to admit Caesarea is a pretty little city.”

  “I will never understand why Herod allowed the heathen temples. A true king of the Jews would not allow such blasphemy.”

  “It is worse than you think, Anna. Herod the Great not only allowed heathen temples, he was the one who commissioned them.” Wanting to give the sheltered woman something to think about, he added, “Herod may not have been an ideal Jewish king, but that did not make him a bad king. Herod acted as all good rulers must. He ruled with all his subjects’ interests—Jewish and heathen—in mind, and not just with the majority. He was after all called Herod the Great. He could not have been that terrible.”

  “We were not the ones who named him that.”

  The ship returned to the dock and they made their way to the bustling bazaar.

  “Are you hostile to all things heathen, Anna, or is it just me?”

  “You hear about how wicked heathens are, but Caesarea is not as bad as I expected.”

  Julian paused and negotiated a quick deal with a vendor selling nuts and fruits. He offered Anna a ripe pear. “Was that man a Jew or a Gentile?”

  Her puzzled look veered between him and the booth they had just left behind. “I am not sure. He has a beard, so maybe he is a Hebrew.”

  Men both bearded and clean-shaven manned the multitude of booths lining the street. Julian had chosen that particular vendor not only for the quality of the pears, but also for his appearance. The smoothed-faced men were most likely from the West. The bearded men might be Jews, or not. In this part of the world, men of all nationalities kept beards.

  “If we are not running drunken through the streets and engaging in wild orgies, it is hard to tell who the heathens are, isn’t it?”

  A pretty pink tinged her cheeks. “I do not think that about heathens.”

  “No?”

  “Well, not anymore. You and your men seem civilized enough.”

  He clutched his chest. “What? A compliment from Anna the Jerusalemite? I never thought to hear the like.”

  “Am I that mean?” Pear juice trickled unnoticed down her wrist.

  “No, Anna, it is not in you to be mean. But I wish you were not always looking at me as if I ate little ones for breakfast.” It was the first time he wanted someone to know Jewish blood ran in his veins, a notion that was foreign to him. He was Roman through and through.

  Anna dipped her head. Her thick lashes hid her eyes from him. “Do I?”

  He nudged her elbow. “Finish your pear.”

  She took a bite of fruit. Glistening tears hung unshed in her eyes. “Heathen devil that you are…the truth is you’ve been nicer to me than my own people. And I have not even thanked you. I would not blame you for thinking us Jews a judgmental people.”

  “In my experience, Jews are like most others. Some are full of hate and evil. Others are loving and kind. I have an offer for you, Anna. If you stop hating me for being a filthy Gentile, I will not go around believing you a pig-headed Jew.”

  “I do not hate you, Julian.”

  The sound of his name falling off her lips caused his heart to skip a beat. “Well, that is a start.”

  Reaching Caesarea’s main plaza, Julian led Anna to a stone bench. It faced a marble water fountain that was the focal point of the stone-paved courtyard. Water flowed like glass past swirling curlicues, delicate rosettes, and leafy flourishes as it took various paths to the saucer-shaped pools below.

  “Thank you for calling me that,” Anna said after a while.

  Julian fought the temptation to edge closer to her. “What?”

  “When you were angry with me a moment ago, you called me Anna the Jerusalemite. “

  “That is who you are, isn’t it?”

  “To you maybe… but to everyone else I am Cursed Anna.”

  “Not in Caesarea.”

  Busy fiddling with the ends of the belt looping her tunic, she looked up. “I had not thought of that.”

  “Well you should have. And I will make sure of it.” Tempted to take her hand and squeeze it, he settled for giving her a direct look and a promise. “Tomorrow, when I hand you over to your husband, I will introduce you as Anna the Jerusalemite. You are getting what others can only dream of, Anna, a new start. Do not count your coming to live in Caesarea as stepping down or as a punishment. Accept it for what it is—a chance at a new life.”

  She glanced over each shoulder, and then leaned closer. “I know this sounds horrible, but I am relieved to be out of Jerusalem.”

  Julian waited and waited—but nothing. Curse the woman, she was going to make him ask. “And why is that.”

  Chin dropping, she plucked at the ends of her belt again. “Jerusalem is too good for me.”

  Julian waited for an explanation. But nothing. Nothing?

  Anna would soon have a husband in whom to confide her secrets. He did not like the idea, not even a little.

  “Simple-minded soldier that I am, Anna, I do not know what in the name of Jupiter you are talking about.”

  Her shoulders cringed upward. “You would not understand.”

  “What’s this? A lover’s quarrel?” a woman’s amused voice said from behind.

  And they were greeted by the sight of four large slaves carrying a plush sedan chair carrying an exotic beauty lying full length on her side. The trace of a smile lingered on her ruby-red lips.

  “Holy perdition,” Julian muttered.<
br />
  Anna gasped. “You know Herod Antipas’s daughter?”

  “Know her? Her father wants us to marry.”

  Eleven

  Anna remained rooted by the bench as Julian stepped to the sedan chair carrying King Herod Antipas’s daughter. Salome dripped with jewels. Smoky eyes feasted on Julian. Pouty red lips accentuated her beauty.

  The king’s family descended with much fanfare upon Jerusalem several times a year for the required feasts. Queen Herodias and Salome were always given the premier spot in the Women’s Court. Anna had seen her only from afar, but had recognized her instantly.

  Salome, of course, did not know Anna from Adam.

  As Salome rose up on one elbow, her inadequate bodice slipped lower. “Who is the pretty little thing hiding behind you, Julian of Alexandria?”

  Julian’s mouth, which hung open, snapped shut. He twisted around. And, curse the man, he almost looked surprised to see her standing there. “Anna? Oh, ah… she is um....”

  Anna gnashed her teeth, unsure who she resented more. Julian or Salome.

  Salome tittered like a caged songbird. “Is she your woman?”

  “No. Anna is to be married tomorrow.”

  The princess snapped her fingers at the slave boy who was supposed to be waving an over-sized palm frond leaf over her. Instead, the boy was gaping at Julian, likely the largest Roman soldier he had ever seen.

  “Wicked boy, don’t you dare look at anyone but me,” Salome scolded, but she had yet to take her gaze off Julian.

  “Save your abuse for me, Princess,” Julian said, sparing a wink for the boy, who beamed at the attention as he again moved the fan.

  “Gladly,” Salome replied huskily and traced a finger down the front of Julian’s tunic. “I have something special planned for you tonight, Commander.”

  Julian captured her hand. “I am sure you do.”

  “Arrive ready to satisfy your appetites.”

  Julian kissed Salome’s hand. “The king’s table never disappoints.”

  Anna’s face heated. With hardly any effort, Salome had Julian under her spell. Though it pained her to admit, they made a stunning couple.

  Feeling distinctly in the way, Anna took a step back.

  Julian captured her hand. “Don’t you dare abandon me.”

  Anna purposely stumbled into Julian. “But Salome is so lovely.”

  “The only beautiful woman I see here is you,” Julian whispered.

  Anna’s heart fluttered.

  “Watch what you are about, stupid woman!” Salome spat.

  Julian turned a gimlet eye on the king’s daughter. “What? No kind words for a nervous bride on the eve of her wedding day?”

  The rest of the conversation was lost on Anna. Was it her imagination, or had Julian looked half taken with her? The revelation ought to appall. Instead it appealed. Equally shocking was her jealous reaction to Salome. Anna would not have believed it possible to find herself attracted to a Roman soldier. Or that she could come to think of Romans as anything but evil. Yet her traitorous heart was saying otherwise. She no longer feared Julian even when his intense gaze had threatened to devour her whole and his hands strayed over her body. She did not fear the man, but rather her strong reaction to him.

  She forced the notion aside. Tomorrow she would marry. She did not need Julian’s smile haunting her for the rest of her days. Her husband, whoever he might be, deserved her loyalty.

  “You must bring your pet tonight,” Salome said.

  Anna blinked. She could not have heard correctly. Salome had not just invited her to dine at the palace? Had she?

  “I do not believe that will suit.” Julian replied, glancing uneasily at Anna.

  Amen and amen, Anna thought.

  Salome signaled her litter-bearers to move on. “Consider it the girl’s wedding feast, or if you please, at the king’s command.” On that final word, the princess rode away, trailing pleased laughter and exotic perfume.

  Anna’s stomach roiled. “Why would Salome, a princess, invite me to dine at the king’s table?”

  Julian shifted in place. “That is a good question.”

  Twelve

  The invitation to dine at the palace threw Anna into a whirlwind of activity. Returning to the fortress, she was given a slave to attend to her needs. She was not sure what to make of the situation. As an overworked servant to Simon and his sons, she had imagined how wonderful it would be to have a slave to do all her work. But to have a flesh-and-blood person stand before her, waiting to do her will proved an unsettling experience.

  Her first experience with a Roman bath was equally disconcerting.

  “Come, dear.” A middle-aged slave woman held open a robe, encouraging Anna to emerge from a small marble pool.

  Anna eyed the woman warily. “Close your eyes…please.” Bathing naked in a pool felt wicked, but once she relaxed, she thoroughly enjoyed it. Standing disrobed before another person was a shock to her modesty.

  “Hurry up now, child.” The slave dipped her head. “We still have your hair and dress to see to.”

  Dripping water, Anna quickly slipped her arms into the plush robe and pulled the folds closed. Worries for the coming evening swam through her mind. She expected a messenger to arrive any moment to inform her the invitation was extended in jest. Her next best hope was that by the time of the banquet, Salome would forget she existed or would not stoop to pay her heed.

  The slave briskly toweled Anna’s hair dry. “The commander has rented Calpurnia Drusus’ personal domestic to dress your hair.”

  “He did? I hate to put you all to so much trouble.”

  “I spent a whole month in Damascus waiting hand and foot on a group of Roman matrons making a tour of the East. You have been a dear compared to them.”

  “You aren’t a slave of this house either?”

  Beads of perspiration pearled on the slave’s forehead. “Soldiers being what they are, thank Jupiter, no. I must say, Julian of Alexander seems kind enough. He feared the Presidium’s domestic slaves might be too rough around the edges. He paid my master a good sum of money to part with me.”

  “Ah, here you are,” the slave woman said, welcoming two more slaves. One carried a shell comb and ornamental beads, the other a tunic in bright shades of blue.

  For the next hour the three slaves poked and prodded at Anna, but she hardly noticed.

  Why would Julian go to such lengths and expense…for her? A dung collector’s servant. And a fallen one at that?

  That Julian had made sure she had pleasing slaves made her want to weep. Romans were not supposed to be kind. And tomorrow he would give her over to her new husband. Would this man be as generous to her as Julian?

  She should be thankful for any kind of husband. Good, bad, mean, short, ugly. But it would be easier to accept her fate if Julian were not so wonderful.

  Who would have guessed a Roman soldier would be the answers to her prayers? Thanks to Julian’s kindness, she would be able to stand among her people as a righteous daughter of Israel.

  She would not forget the compassion shown to her. And she vowed never to say another unkind word about Gentiles.

  There was a knock at the door. “Anna, it is time to go.”

  Her heart beat faster. One more night. She needed to survive this last evening with Julian before starting her new life.

  ∞∞∞

  Julian planned to use the short walk to the palace to inform Anna he had found her a husband.

  Navigating a puddle left from a midday rain shower, he could not stop staring. “You will outshine them all tonight, Anna.”

  Her vivid blue scarf looked exquisite against her dark hair. The scarf matched her bluebird-colored gown. The soft fabric draped Anna’s form in a very pleasing manner. It was a remarkable transformation. Gone was the simple servant. A blooming flower stood in her place

  She wrinkled her nose. “I feel like a peacock.”

  “You do not smell like one.”

  “Th
e servants you hired put some sort of fragrant oils in the bath water. It does smell good, doesn’t it?”

  “Lily of the Valley.” He had chosen the scent himself. “The hired women treated you well?”

  “They were wonderful. You are wonderful.”

  His heart soared. “Are you nervous about the banquet?”

  “All the preparation seems like a lot of fuss.”

  “It is not every day you meet the king.”

  Anna slowed as a small contingent of Jewish men caught in deep discussion passed them. “I have spent considerably less time preparing to go before the Temple. I doubt Herod Antipas warrants even half the trouble.”

  Julian laughed. “I hope you do not plan to tell the king as much.”

  “I am a little anxious.” She fingered her gown. “Thank you for all of this. I never thought to wear such fine, lovely clothes.”

  “I am glad you like them.”

  Her brow furrowed. “But why all this?”

  His instructions to the slaves had been very specific. He suspected what lay hidden beneath her humble exterior. Just once, he had wanted to see Anna in all her glory. “You are a very beautiful woman.”

  “Do not speak so.”

  “I will not have you going to your new husband dressed like a beggar.” She was correct. He should not be speaking so intimately to another man’s espoused wife. “The tunic is my wedding gift to you. I had the seamstress make a few more for everyday wear. And a warm cloak, too.”

  “That is very good of you.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

  Would her husband treasure her? “I am paying a large dowry on your behalf.”

  “You had to bribe the man to take me, didn’t you?”

  He had, but he thought it a small price to ensure Anna went to a good man. His reason was selfish. He wanted to rest easy over her welfare. Not that he would get a decent night’s sleep any time soon, imagining Anna in another man’s arms.

  “All men are bribed to marry.” He nudged her elbow and winked. “Why would we do it otherwise?”

  “Don’t,” she said, a small smile curving her lips.