“What?”
“Your smile is very pleasing.”
He grinned. “Indeed?”
She blushed. “Indeed.”
His gut clenched.
Anna attracted to him? Jupiter, that was an intriguing notion.
Thoughts of what might be collided against what he knew in his heart could never be.
The young Jewess needed a husband. Julian must marry a Roman wife. Anna despised Romans, yet she was attracted to him.
Minor details aside, the fact remained he was Julian of Alexandria, Commander of Fortress Antonia, and a citizen of Rome. And she was Anna the Jerusalemite, dung collector’s servant, and would-be harlot.
All in all, a hopeless situation.
“Tell me about the man I am to marry.”
Taking advantage of the time and attention needed to guide her across the street, he composed his thoughts. A few more steps and the stately columns of the palace loomed before them.
“His name is Joseph ben Judah.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue.
Anna studied the palace instead of looking at him. Her voice was barely audible. “Can you tell me more?”
Was she conflicted with the same regret and pain he felt? “He is a nut vendor. And, from what I learned, an honest one. He is not a man of means, but he does well enough. Will that suit you?”
“He sounds like a good man.” She continued to avoid his eyes. “What complaint could I have?”
Julian rejoiced at her forlorn tone. And wasn’t that petty? “I am told he is a devout man. But to be on the safe side, the marriage contract states your husband must take you to Jerusalem for the required feasts. Besides the bride’s price and the dowry, the contract also contains a marriage settlement.”
“Marriage settlement?”
No surprise the term was an unfamiliar one. “The marriage settlement is the sum of money your husband is required to pay you if he divorces you. It is a prescribed agreement in all Greek and Roman marriage contracts.”
Her brow creased. “You do not trust Joseph to do right by me?”
“No, I do not.”
“You are afraid as soon as your back is turned, my husband will take the dowry and flee the marriage.”
The confession came reluctantly. “I am.”
Dejection and loneliness shadowed her face. “And the marriage settlement will allow you to walk away and never have to worry about me again. Is that right?”
Suddenly he was tired unto death. “We cannot put off the evening’s entertainment any longer. The king hates tardiness.”
“You must be anxiously awaiting Salome’s surprise?” Anna pulled her shoulders back and walked ahead. A female version of the biblical prophet Daniel marching toward the lion’s den.
He could not be more sympathetic. Salome was a lioness, ready to devour her prey.
Marriage to a Herodian princess would be advantageous.
Maybe he should stop fighting the idea and embrace it.
Thirteen
Anna had felt as out of place as a leper as she and Julian had followed a slave through the cavernous palace. Signs of sumptuous living amazed at every turn. In the open-air banquet hall, the spectacular views she’d seen that afternoon paled compared to the sight of the royal family decked out in all their glory.
What had Anna even more agog was that men and women were seated together at the same table. Simon the dung collector seldom had guests, but when he did, Anna stayed in the shadowy corner of the room. If Simon’s house had included more than one room, she would have been required to retreat there.
The Pharisees accused the Sadducees and the Herodians of living like Greeks, but until this evening, Anna had not really known what that meant.
They dined like Greeks, too, with the men reclining on couches and the women seated on chairs. She did not care for the arrangement. Used to sitting on a mat spread on the floor, she hoped only that she did not make a fool of herself.
Not that anyone was likely to notice her.
She was seated between a pair of dour dignitaries of no consequence. Whereas Julian reclined in the place of honor, at the king’s right hand, with Salome to his left, enjoying the royal family’s full attention. It did indeed appear as if the king wanted Julian for his son-in-law.
A moment’s observation proved Herod Antipas a lump of clay in the hands of his wife Herodias and their daughter Salome.
Oh, the stunningly beautiful pair knew what they were about. Mother and daughter fawned and preened over the indolent king, all the while hinting at what Herod Antipas should think or say. Because the suggestions were about as subtle as an axe between the eyes, the king looked twice as foolish. Anna cringed to see the king’s family make a fool of him with Julian watching on.
And Salome was using all her womanly wiles, which Anna grudgingly admitted were considerable, to woo the commander of Fortress Antonia.
Julian had his hand playfully slapped as he reached for a plate of grapes.
Salome lowered her long dark lashes. “Commander, allow me to see to your every comfort.” She plucked a plump grape and touched it to her full red lips. “You look fairly starved, Commander Julian.”
Anna could gag.
Julian stayed Salome’s hand. “Thank you, Princess, but I think I will keep to my wine. New grapes are rather tart for my taste.”
“Sweet fruit can be had at the king’s table.” Salome’s hand slipped from view. “You have only to command it.”
Anna ground her teeth as she saw Julian’s eyes widen. She knew full well Salome’s seductive voice and words were not wholly responsible for his reaction.
Julian returned Salome’s hand to the table. “The king’s table has all a man could desire.”
The king and his wife and daughter shared a pleased smile, even as Julian’s eyes flicked toward Anna.
Her face heated.
Herodias, a woman of surpassing beauty whom age had refined rather than diminished, leaned forward. “Commander Julian, we have a small favor to ask.”
His attention returned to the royal family. “I hope I can help.”
“A man calling himself a prophet and hoping to make a name for himself has insulted the king by claiming our marriage is illegitimate.” Herodias strangled her napkin. “Please tell me you will arrest this John the Baptizer.”
Anna bit her tongue to keep from exclaiming that the Baptizer’s only guilt was speaking the truth. Herodias’s first marriage was to the king’s brother Philip. When Antipas paid a visit to Phillip and Herodias while they were living in Rome, he promptly divorced his Arabian princess and stole his brother’s wife away. All of Israel was offended by Antipas’s marriage to Herodias, but the prophet John was the only one bold enough to publicly decry and criticize the powerful couple.
“Come, dear.” The king patted his wife’s hand. “We agreed not to bother Commander Julian with our little problem.”
Herodias’s eyes briefly dimmed. “Our dear Salome has prepared a special entertainment especially for our esteemed guest.”
Anna’s stomach sank.
Salome smiled at Julian, slipped from her chair, and disappeared behind a wall of bluish-purple curtains. The long panels fluttered and swayed on the breeze. Bright orange remnants of the setting sun lit the curtains from behind.
Fire and smoke danced from dozens of torches concealed inside decorative urns. The flames served as a mesmerizing antidote against the encroaching darkness. A few soft notes of music sounded from behind the curtains—an intoxicating melody played on reed pipes and accompanied by the soft tinkling of bells.
The curtains parted and a vision emerged from the dark.
Salome’s long, shapely arms lifted high in the air, fingers snapping out a slow, seductive rhythm. Shimmering dark hair cascaded over exposed shoulders. A slim, bare midriff and generous hips undulated and swayed to the increasing beat.
Princess Salome in all her allure.
Each clever step of her bare feet brought her
closer and closer to the king’s audience.
Flickering firelight played over intent faces paying full homage to Salome’s seductiveness. Dancing to where Julian reclined on his couch she circled her hips in slow suggestion.
Salome moved on.
Julian turned his head to follow the princess’s progress, allowing Anna a glimpse of his face. Her heart ached. He appeared wholly enraptured. Fascinated. Enthralled. Engrossed as he was, it would take a charging hoard of barbarians to lure his attention away from Salome.
How could Anna ever hope to compete with the wanton woman? Listen to me. She was not in competition for Julian’s affection.
Still, it must feel thrilling to command the eye of every man in the room.
Thrilling? She choked on the morsel of food she had absentmindedly put in her mouth.
“What is the matter with you, girl?” Salome scowled down her elegant nose.
Anna froze as all eyes turned to her.
“Your Highness, may I introduce my charge Anna the Jerusalemite?” Julian patted Salome’s hand and turned to Antipas. “Your lovely daughter was kindhearted enough to invite Anna to your banquet as a wedding present. Anna is to be married tomorrow.”
The king blinked in bewilderment.
Herodias studied her as she might an exotic animal.
Julian offered Anna an encouraging smile. “This is Anna’s first visit to—"
“Commander Julian is a heathen liar,” a lone voice called out.
Gasps erupted.
Zara the Levite, Captain of the Temple Guard, strode forward.
Julian jumped to his feet. “Be careful with your accusations, Levite.”
Zara did not stop until he was toe to toe with Julian. “While you’ve been playing at your orgies, Roman, I have been about the Lord’s business.”
Julian clenched teeth. “Pontius Pilate will set you in your place.”
“I have just come from a meeting with Governor Pilate.”
“Pilate has returned?”
Zara smiled.
Herod Antipas struggled to his feet. “What is the meaning of this?”
“That woman is a harlot.” Zara pointed his fat finger at her. “Is our nation now so corrupt that our king entertains whores and their Roman lovers?”
“Harlot?” The king’s face puckered. “Are you spreading more lies?”
“One more insult and I will break your nose.” Julian grasped the other man’s tunic.
“Take your hands off me.” Zara batted uselessly at Julian’s fist.
“Commander.” The king’s voice was tinged with disappointment. “We will have a riot on our hands if you send this simple-minded ox back to Jerusalem in pieces.”
“Are you mocking the high priest and the council?”
Anna shrank in her seat. Was it too much to hope the uproar would grow into a fight between the king and a member of the Temple leadership?
“I am sorry, Father.” Salome grasped the king’s arm and stared at Anna like a spider eyeing its dinner. “I foolishly invited this woman to your banquet not knowing who she was. I had no idea she was a whore. Zara tells the truth. Now it has been pointed out, I cannot believe I missed the obvious signs.”
“Commander, I am surprised at you.” Herodias wagged her finger. “Come now, surely you can do better than the bed of harlots.”
“Anna is not a whore,” Julian growled.
The king squeezed Salome’s hand. “My daughter would not lie to me.”
The palace guests eyed Anna.
Her face burned.
It was happening again. People judging and hating her based on nothing more than hearsay.
There was one uncomfortable difference.
The men were looking too closely at her, wondering, considering, and seeing her in a new light. They looked at her the way they had at Salome.
Out of the many desires of her heart, this would have to be the one granted to her.
Further proof, if she needed it, she was cursed of God.
What’s more, the men’s blatant ogling unnerved her. And the men’s wives, noticing the way their husbands stared at a supposed harlot, glared at her with unconcealed disdain and reproach.
The only person in the room not looking at her was Julian.
He would have to wash his hands of her now.
With this sad realization came another—now no decent man would ever consider marrying her.
She was truly and finally alone in the world.
The room spun. Nauseated and lightheaded, she hid her face in her hands.
Fourteen
Two days after the disastrous banquet, Caesarea still buzzed with gossip. Zara continued to rail against Herod Antipas for welcoming the harlot, Cursed Anna as a guest at the palace. Salome and Herodias continued to conspire against John the Baptist. The king continued to hint at a marriage between Julian and Salome.
Julian had doggedly proclaimed Anna’s innocence to no avail.
Joseph the nut vendor had run from the marriage to Anna as if Satan was breathing fire on his heels. Anna put on a brave face, but he could not get more than two words out of her. Never mind convince her to leave her room.
Julian refused to accept defeat.
If the gods were merciful, Anna would be married within the next hour.
“Tell me you have some good news, Crispus,” he said by way of greeting his stoic centurion.
Meeting as arranged on the steps of Caesarea’s Temple Jupiter to hand Anna over to husband-to-be, Crispus’ curt nod told it all. “Yes, but you are not going to like it.”
Given the task of finding a Jew willing to marry a disgraced woman seemed to have tried Crispus’ resourcefulness, as well as his patience. But Julian could tell he was not pleased with the results.
“Just tell me he is coming.” Over the last day and night, a series of men had seemed interested, only to back out, no doubt thanks to Zara’s infernal meddling.
Crispus frowned. “Tobias will be here, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Julian glanced back at Anna. But he could not discern her attitude because scarves swathed her from head to toe. The anonymity produced by the layers probably served to make her feel safe. She had stopped talking, leaving him to guess at her thoughts.
It did not matter now.
The time for talk had passed. He had done his best for the young Jewess. She would soon be someone else’s responsibility.
Blaming his regret on his sense of duty, he dismissed the idea it was the loss of Anna herself that had his insides tied in knots.
“Here he comes,” Crispus said.
Julian studied the man making his way up the temple steps. Other than noting the prospective bridegroom was middle-aged, he looked average.
As promised, Julian had found Anna a Jewish husband. It was the one criterion he had insisted upon.
Tobias wore a wary expression. Julian wondered what had him more agitated—the prospect of marriage to Cursed Anna or the heathen temple?
Not putting it past Zara to incite a riot to foil his plans, Julian had picked a place where the small party was least likely to meet up with a crowd of angry Jews. Jupiter’s temple looked to have done the trick. It gave Julian some hope for Tobias’s character. The man was not a superstitious fool.
Following an awkward greeting, Tobias asked to have a look at Anna.
Julian expected the man to ask Anna to remove her veils, instead Tobias picked up one of her hands and inspected it with care. “Do you have experience caring for children?”
Anna’s head remained ducked. “No, my lord, but I will learn.”
Arching a brow at Crispus, Julian asked, “How many children?”
“Ah… five, I think. No, that was the butcher.” Crispus shrugged a shoulder. “Tobias has been unfortunate in wives. The first two died leaving him with six children.”
Tobias had had a bad run of it. That might explain the man’s willingness to marry Cursed Anna. Perhaps Tobias had been painted with t
he same brush as Anna—having done something to call down God’s wrath. In that case, he could no better than marry a shunned woman.
Continuing his inspection of her hands, Tobias asked Anna about her family. Julian could not help noting how pale and delicate Anna’s fingers looked next to Tobias’s grizzled brown hands. Julian’s eyes were drawn to the dirt under the man’s short fingernails. The black stains under Tobias’s nails contrasted with the rest of his appearance—hair, clothes, and person were clean and neat.
Julian narrowed his eyes at Crispus. “What is Tobias’s trade?”
“Dung collector.” Crispus’ nose twitched.
“A dung collector?” Julian groaned.
A small group of white-clad worshippers climbing the wide stairs on their way to sacrifice to Jupiter stopped and stared at him as if he were insane. They were not far off the mark. This whole business with Anna drove him to distraction.
“Actually, several dung collectors were interested in Anna.” Crispus grinned. “I never would have guessed experience working at the wrong end of a beast was a prized skill. I’ve never dealt with their kind before. They seem awfully choosy for people who pick up—”
Tobias bristled.
“Centurion, remember yourself,” Julian said.
“I meant no insult.”
“They are good people.” Anna’s meek voice barely penetrated the layers of veils. “I am just grateful the dung collectors are willing to take a disgraced woman in among them.”
Hating the veils that hid her from him, Julian wanted to rip them away. “Anna, you have always been, and will always be, a worthy daughter of Israel. It would please me to have you remember it.”
Her reply was muffled.
Tobias shuffled in place. “Let us sign the contract and go our separate ways.”
“All in good time, but first I have a few questions.” Julian pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the pressure building behind his eyes.
When his careful questioning of the dung collector revealed no great fault, Julian did not feel the relief he ought. There was no good reason not to give Anna over to Tobias. His practical Roman mind told him he had done all he could. It was time to walk away.
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