Woman of Sin

by Debra Diaz

  A slurred voice near her ear startled her, and she turned to see the leering face of the tetrarch. “What fortune is mine,” he whispered conspiratorially, “to have the two fairest women on earth grace my kingdom!”

  Alysia thought it futile to remind him they were in Judea, not Galilee. Nor was she certain how to respond, so she merely said with a forced smile, “You are overkind, my lord.”

  “Overkind?” Herod gurgled with laughter. “No one has ever accused me of that before!” He leaned close to her. “Your head is much too lovely to roll in the dust, my dear. For your sake I shall forgive the insult.”

  When the king had wobbled on his way Salome gave her a mysterious look and giggled. Then abruptly she straightened, drawing in her breath. “There he is—that must be him. The new commander, of course.”

  “What?”

  “Just coming through the door. He has a woman with him. Mother’s talking to her, so she must be important. I wonder if that red hair is her own. Oh, but he is magnificent!”

  Alysia smiled without turning. “Apollo perhaps?” she said lightly, wondering how she might escape. She didn’t belong here; she’d been a fool to come.

  “No… He is Mars, the god of war. Oh, to be his Aphrodite!” Salome seemed not to notice she was mixing a Roman god with a Greek goddess, so enthralled was she by the unknown man. Alysia began to turn but Salome caught her arm. “Don’t look now. He is staring at us.”

  Alysia had to laugh, amused by the young woman’s flair for drama. But as Salome proceeded to describe the object of her attention, she stopped laughing.

  “From his uniform he is a legate or a general. He’s half a head taller than most of the others. Perhaps thirty or thirty and five. Light brown hair, long for a Roman, blue or green eyes—I can tell even from this distance…”

  Alysia stiffened, feeling the blood drain from her face. How many other Roman legates could claim that description, and with a red-haired wife!

  The Roman paused and stared at the girl in the cream-colored gown who stood with her back to him. There was a striking familiarity about the set of her shoulders, the curve of her back—

  Alysia, he thought. Then he scoffed at himself. Impossible! And yet—

  The young woman inclined her head to listen to her companion and the well-known gesture brought a flare of unexpected pain to his heart. He started toward her, but a flock of people crossed in front of him, blocking his way. The woman seemed to become rigid, as if feeling his eyes upon her, and Paulus knew then who she was with a sureness he could never have explained.

  Alysia turned slowly, and as she did all the music, the noise, the chatter receded, until she was deaf and dumb and lost in a world where there were only two people, herself and the tall man across the room. Their gazes collided in mutual amazement.

  Paulus felt the cold grip of shock. She was alive! He didn’t know how or why, but she was here and fate had led him to her. Then, on the heels of that thought another one struck him…She must have been here all these months and had not communicated with him, had not even let him know she was alive. Someone had taken his arm, and he tore his eyes away from the wide, dark violet ones to look into the ruddy face of the tetrarch, who led him straight toward Alysia and the woman beside her.

  “Legate Paulus Maximus, er , I forgot the other name—it is a pleasure and an honor to have your presence here. Let me introduce you to my step-Salome.”

  Alysia began to quake as Herod rambled drunkenly. She had never expected to see Paulus again. He would think her heartless and dishonest to have run away after he had gone to such lengths to help her. How could she make him understand?

  “I saw you staring, and who would not!” Herod cackled with good humor.

  Paulus acknowledged the introduction, and Salome’s gaze scanned him boldly.

  “Welcome to Judea, Legate,” she said silkily.

  “And, er, what is your name again?” Herod inquired of Alysia.

  “It—I—” she stuttered, incapable of speech.

  “Alysia,” said Paulus. “I believe we have met before.”

  Paulus’ gaze seemed to mock her with its calm. He had an innate self-possession that never seemed threatened, no matter what he saw or heard. She couldn’t know of the inner turmoil surging inside him, kept at bay by strength born of a lifetime of carefully leashed emotions.

  Alysia found her voice. “It is possible, sir.

  Salome did not seem pleased that Paulus and Alysia knew each other. A man touched her arm and she turned away, even as someone refilled Herod’s goblet and he was off again to make his rounds. Alysia became aware of a familiar voice calling Paulus’ name. They turned simultaneously, and she stood face to face with Megara.

  Megara stopped. She blinked. A slender hand slid to her throat, where a pulse began to beat spasmodically.

  “You—” She breathed in a harsh whisper. The look in her eyes could have chiseled granite. A striking gong momentarily drowned out every sound. People began to move en masse toward an adjoining room. Alysia was swept along behind Paulus and Megara.

  Herodias had arranged the great hall in imitation of a Roman banquet, with the tables arranged in groups of three, and with several dining couches at each set. A slave ushered Alysia to the king’s table, where Paulus and his wife were also being seated. Paulus’ rank had, no doubt, earned him the honor, but Alysia wondered why she had been so chosen. Salome also reclined at the table, beside her mother.

  She was never to remember much about the feast. Platters were loaded with viands and delicacies of every description, from wild boar to lobster; those with more exotic tastes sampled the flamingo tongues and peacock brains. She was vaguely aware of an elderly man, an advisor to Herod, who reclined next to her and showered her with compliments—and saliva from his toothless gums.

  She was conscious only of Paulus. He talked and laughed with some of his officers, yet Alysia knew he was aware of her also. She lost count of the number of times she looked up to find his eyes upon her.

  Megara became sullen and withdrawn. “Why couldn’t the sea have swallowed you, sorceress?” she raved silently. “Now you will weave your spell over Paulus all over again. Well, we shall see what happens when it is discovered what you did in Rome!”

  The meal seemed to last for an eternity. At intervals, some of the guests staggered from the room to regurgitate what they had consumed so they might continue eating with more gusto. When the servants had cleared the tables of everything except the wine, Herod clapped his hands for silence. The roar of noise gradually diminished and faces turned toward him expectantly.

  “We will have dancing!” he cried, his face bright with excitement.

  At once a primitive beat of drums began at a mad tempo and a score of gyrating dancers burst into the room. Alysia had seen and heard enough of Roman banquets to know what to expect; the dancing would be quite sexually suggestive; the drinking and merry-making would increase, and— what had she been thinking to come here?

  Herod laughed at some crude jest and turning, caught Alysia’s eye and winked boldly. He gestured for a slave to refill her cup.

  Alarmed, she glanced quickly away, and then noticed that Paulus had seen this exchange. Something flickered in his eyes she could not interpret. Disgust? Jealousy? She would have given anything to know his feelings. Unable to sit still any longer, she rose and made her way unhindered to the arched doorway. She knew Paulus turned his head; she felt his eyes burning into her back with every step she took. She found her way to an empty room that opened onto a balcony and walked across it to the railing, letting the breeze cool her flushed cheeks.

  At last the sound of the drums ceased, followed by the patter of bare feet as the dancers scampered from the room. A scraping of couches and chairs told her there was to be a pause in the entertainment. She stared up at the haze around the moon. Torches flared and smoked at each corner of the balcony.

  She heard footsteps in the hallway. Oh, no, was Herod looking for her? She t
ried to take a deep breath, looked up, and saw Paulus walking slowly toward her.

  “You seem to know your way around,” he said, standing against the marble balustrade. “How long have you been here?”

  “Only since this morning.” Her voice was unnaturally high-pitched; she pressed her hands together to keep them from shaking.

  Paulus waited. His own mind was still struggling to accept the fact that she now stood before him, flesh and blood and stunningly beautiful.

  “You see, I was brought here against my will.” Briefly she related the events of yesterday and this morning.

  A muscle twitched in his cheek. “I assure you that the men responsible will be punished. Is that all you would like to tell me?”

  “Yes. I mean, no. I suppose you are wondering why I didn’t go to Cyprus.”

  At his nod she went on. “There had been a storm, and the ship stopped at Crete. And then I…didn’t get back on. I boarded a different one. I didn’t…I was afraid. And I wanted to be free. Free to live, and to marry, as I chose.”

  After a moment he said, “That is understandable.”

  “Are you—am I still your slave?”

  “I acquired someone else for Selena. I suppose now you do…belong to me.”

  He paused, and she felt the suspense mount until she thought she would suffocate if her breathing did not return to normal. Finally he said, “But I have no use for another slave. I won’t take your freedom from you a second time. I can put it in writing if you like.”

  She shook her head quickly. The last thing she wanted was for someone to find evidence of her former bondage.

  “Thank you. I can pay you. Not all at once, but—”

  He interrupted. “No. You owe me nothing.”

  “Sir—”

  “You were to call me Paulus. Remember?”

  “Paulus,” she almost whispered, “would you have someone you trust take me home in the morning?”

  “In the morning,” he said, “might be too late.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Alysia.” For a moment she saw the old Paulus, saw caring and concern in his eyes. “Why do you think that perverted old fool wants you to stay here?”

  “Because—” She stopped, and saw his meaning. “I suppose I didn’t think. With everything that’s happened, I—I just assumed he was trying to smooth my feelings, so that I wouldn’t cause trouble.”

  “Perhaps you didn’t see the way he looked at you. ”

  She glanced down at the floor, embarrassed. “I am the one who is a fool.”

  “How could you know?” he said quietly. “I’ve heard his usual method is to lure young women into the palace under certain pretenses, then get them drunk. Then they are too ashamed to tell anyone, or even if they did—he is the king. Rome cares nothing about his habits—Rome has worse habits.”

  “But why? He could have any number of slaves, or mistresses. Why would he risk such a thing?”

  “For the thrill of the risk—perhaps he is bored.”

  “I must get out of here tonight!”

  “Yes, you must.” She looked up to see a kind, half-smile on his face. “Come, Alysia. I will take you home.”

  * * * *

  Paulus had gone to get his horse. There were more guests in the corridors; most had partaken too liberally of wine and were being escorted by slaves to their bedchambers. Alysia tried in vain to find the room she’d been given; the palace was like a city, with hallways leading in every direction. She stopped looking, afraid she would see Herod Antipas rounding a corner at any moment. Besides, hadn’t he told her to keep the clothes? She would just have to leave her own things behind.

  But she wouldn’t keep the jewelry. Passing through one of the many vestibules, she removed the necklace and earrings and left them atop a pedestal bearing a small statue of Eros…a fitting gesture, she thought. Through a window she glimpsed the main courtyard, found a doorway leading to it, and stepped out into the night. There were guards standing here and there, but before she could speak with one of them a man stepped out of the shadows and came toward her. As he approached one of the torches that burned nearby, she saw that he had dark hair and a sober expression that was at variance with the twinkle in his eyes.

  “My name is Simon,” he said. “Do you remember me?”

  “Yes, you’re Paulus’ …”

  “Slave.” He smiled when she hesitated. “He thought it best for you not to be seen together, for your sake. He’ll be waiting for you at the southeast gate.”

  As they descended the steps to the street below, two slaves in short dark tunics appeared bearing a covered palanquin. Alysia turned and looked at Simon.

  “It is for you,” he said. “The legate’s orders.”

  The slaves lowered the conveyance and Simon helped her inside and drew the curtains. “I’ll follow you. Don’t be afraid.”

  Alysia hadn’t been afraid since the moment she saw Paulus, but it did feel strange to travel this way. At home she had always walked or ridden in carriages. The curtains were almost transparent and she could see the streets gleaming in the moonlight; there were very few people about at this hour. Down the sloping streets, down the many long flights of stairs they went to the lower city, then through the same gate Alysia had entered with the soldiers. She felt the litter touch the ground and the curtains opened to reveal Simon, who gave her his hand…then he gestured to the other slaves and they all disappeared within the city gate.

  Paulus stood waiting for her, holding the reins of his horse. “Walk or ride?” he asked.

  She remembered too well the last time they had ridden together; glancing at him sideways she remembered too well his sea blue eyes, his face tanned to bronze, the sun-streaked mane of tawny hair…

  “Walk,” she said hastily.

  Paulus made no reply as they fell into step together. The narrow road barely gave them room to walk side by side, with the horse following obediently behind. The haziness had lifted and an egg-shaped moon shone brightly down on the white rocks lining the valley. She hadn’t realized her teeth were chattering until he wordlessly removed his white mantle and laid it across her shoulders. It warmed her at once.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “The nights are often cold here.”

  Why didn’t he say something?

  “I’ve never known you to wear the white uniform,” she said lightly.

  “Sometimes it is wise to…make a statement,” he answered obliquely, and fell silent again.

  “I suppose Herod Antipas will be furious with me,” she said.

  “I think I will have a talk with the good king of Galilee,” he replied, and glancing at her he asked, “Tell me again about these men who took you…what were their names? Did they hurt you?”

  “No.” Alysia felt herself flush; she hated speaking of it. “The centurion—his name was Marcus—took me to a room and fell asleep before—anything happened. Another was called Servius. I didn’t hear the other three called by name.”

  “I assure you they will be punished.”

  “You won’t—kill them, will you?”

  “They deserve to die.”

  “Please don’t! They do deserve to be punished, but the centurion made things right, or tried to. I don’t want anyone to die because of me.”

  They had emerged from the Kidron Valley and began climbing to the shoulder of the Mount of Olives. Alysia had to hold up her long gown and step carefully in the thin shoes. A low brick wall ran alongside to their right, and to their left the moon revealed a deep shadowed forest.

  Paulus said at last, “As you wish.”

  Another silence fell, except for the insects and their own footsteps, and the rhythmic clip-clop of the horse’s hooves. She stumbled; he caught her arm and asked, “Why don’t you ride? I’ll lead the horse.”

  “No, I want to walk.”

  “So,” he said, after a moment, “you are living as a Jew. Have you accepted their religion?”

  “I—I am not cer
tain yet. Do you know that they believe in one great, all-powerful God? That he created the world and—”

  “Yes, I am aware of their beliefs,” he interrupted, with the slightest edge to his voice. “Their writings go back to the beginning of time. Many of our Greek and Roman myths are based on them.”

  “Oh, but they’re very different.”

  “Different in the sense that our gods are silly and perverse, but the ideas come from the Jews, who wrote of strange and perverse creatures that existed before the great flood, matings between humans and the so-called fallen angels — ” He broke off and shook his head. “I’m not in the mood for a discussion of religion, Alysia.”

  “And what is your mood, Paulus?”

  When he didn’t answer at first she rushed on, knowing she owed him an explanation. But first there were things she needed to know.

  “Paulus, whatever happened about Magnus?”

  “There was an investigation…naturally I was barred from participating in it. Lucius swore you murdered Magnus, deliberately and with premeditation. I told them what really happened but it wouldn’t matter much even if they believed me. I reported that you were believed dead, but Magnus’ family doesn’t trust me. You’re still being sought by authorities in Rome, and in Greece as well.”

  She was puzzled. “Why did you think I was dead?”

  Again he hesitated. “The ship to Cyprus was capsized by the storm you spoke of. Everyone was killed.”

  Stunned, Alysia stared straight ahead. He’d gone a whole year believing her dead! He certainly hadn’t appeared to be overjoyed when he saw her tonight. It seemed obvious he had no real feelings for her.

  She said, in a cooler tone, “You risked much when you helped me escape.”

  He didn’t answer. She pulled his mantle closer. “How did you come to be here?”

  “I was appointed by Tiberius to command the Antonia. Fate, wouldn’t you say?”

  It was her turn to remain silent.

  Paulus said, “Now I would like to ask you a few questions. At the palace you spoke of marriage. Are you married? I see that you’re wearing a ring.”