Woman of Sin

by Debra Diaz

  There it was. Nathan bar Samuel, of Bethany.

  * * * *

  “Paulus, you can save his life!” Alysia stared at him with disbelief. “You cannot mean to—” She cut off her words; it was unthinkable.

  Paulus laid his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her. He seemed suddenly cold and austere, a stranger to her, and she couldn’t discern the expression in his eyes as deep regret.

  “If I release him he will go on just as he is now. If he kills any more men, I will be responsible.”

  “How can you do this? No matter what I’ve done, no matter what I feel, he is my husband!”

  Paulus turned away without speaking. Alysia looked at him frantically, seeing the sun coming through the window and shining down on his hair. From somewhere outside she heard a man’s voice barking orders, heard the rattle of chains and a door swinging open. She didn’t dare look out the window, fearing that if she saw Nathan being led away she would lose the tenuous grip she had upon her self-control. She didn’t understand the intensity of her feelings. She only knew that Nathan must not die, not now, after what she had done.

  “Paulus, you must listen to me—”

  “No, Alysia, you listen to me.” He faced her again and she was appalled. He was a stranger.

  “You want him to die,” she whispered. “Because of me.”

  “What you ask is impossible,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Your husband is a rebel and a murderer. He has been identified as one of their leaders…he is the one who arms and trains them. It is my duty to stop him, and all men like him.”

  “You would put your duty over your love for me?”

  “Even if I let him live,” Paulus said slowly, “his days are numbered. I could have told you last night I knew who and what he is—I could have told you to warn him against doing what he does. But it would have done no good. Do you think you can stop him? Do you think he will ever stop, as long as he lives and breathes?”

  She had no answer.

  He looked full into her eyes. “He has brought himself to this end. Do not make such demands upon me, Alysia, and do not question my love for you again.”

  She knew by the look on his face that any pleading was useless. “But—” she could barely force the dreaded word past her lips, “—crucifixion—”

  “I do not order crucifixions. My prisoners are shot by archers.” He hesitated. “Their aim will be quick and sure, I promise you.”

  She bowed her head and covered her face with shaking hands. Paulus stood still for a moment, then began to walk toward the door. He stopped as he reached her, and when she looked up he went to her and took her in his arms, holding her close against him.

  “Let me take you home.”

  She pressed her face against his shoulder. “I want to see Nathan.”

  * * * *

  The entrance to the dungeon was dark as a pit and smelled of mildew and unwashed bodies. When Herod built the splendid fortress he saw no reason to make the prison comfortable; it was only for those awaiting execution. Paulus’ footsteps echoed hollowly down the narrow corridor, where torches set in the walls cast weird, dancing shadows. He had put on his uniform, and his mantle swung about his boots as his sword clanked at his side. A silent guard saluted him, unlocking a rusty, creaking door to allow him entrance.

  Paulus peered through the gloom at the condemned prisoners chained to the wall. “Release that one.”

  Nathan lifted his head in surprise. The guard obeyed with a noisy rattling of metal, as the other prisoners watched apathetically. Nathan stood rubbing his raw wrists and blinking in the darkness.

  “Come with me,” said Paulus, leading the way into a small, bare room across the hallway. The guard waited outside as Paulus closed the door.

  Nathan looked at him curiously. “What do you want with me? Who are you?”

  “I am the commander of this fort.”

  “Yes,” Nathan said slowly, watching his face. “I have seen you before—somewhere.”

  Paulus said abruptly, “I have come to offer you a pardon, if you will accept my conditions.”

  “What conditions?”

  “You must swear an oath that you will stop your activities and never commit another crime against Rome. Then you must take your family and move them to a place of safety, a place far from any city, and live in peace for the rest of your life. There’s a farming village I know of where you would be able to find employment.”

  Bewilderment began to replace the suspicion in Nathan’s eyes. “Why do you make this offer?”

  “Let’s say we have a mutual friend. Someone of influence, who has intervened in your behalf.”

  “Whoever my friend may be has wasted his time and yours, Legate.”

  “So, you prefer that your family suffer for your crimes, when you leave them with no means of support.”

  “I have no family.”

  “I happen to know that you at least have a wife. Do you care so little for her welfare that you would throw away your life so cheaply?”

  Anger flared in Nathan’s eyes. “I care for my wife and my nation, Commander. I have already sworn an oath, and I will never retract it. I have sworn that I will do my part to abolish Roman rule.”

  “You Zealots wish to provoke war with Rome,” Paulus said, with narrowed eyes. “Do you know what that means…torture and enslavement, the starvation of your women and children? My duty has been to stop revolts before the innocent become acquainted with the horrors of war.”

  “War may be horrible, as you say, but so is living beneath the heel of tyranny. Tell me honestly, Commander, if you would not do the same in my place.”

  “Then you refuse a pardon?”

  There was a pause. Then, Nathan spat on the ground at Paulus’ feet. Their eyes met.

  Paulus said, “There is someone who wishes to see you.”

  He left the room. In a moment Nathan heard light, halting footsteps coming down the hall and the door opened to admit Alysia, still wearing his cloak over her own gown. His gaze went over her, his surprise leaving him speechless. The sight of her left a sickness in his gut that no words of reproach could have induced.

  “Alysia,” he said hoarsely. “How did you know?”

  “I was in Jerusalem this morning and I—saw you.”

  There was a long silence; neither knew what to say. At last he took a deep breath and spoke in a husky voice. “You have been unhappy, Alysia. I once thought I would draw that sadness from you, but I wasn’t able to do it, was I? I have not been a good husband for you. Perhaps when I’m gone you will be happier.”

  Her hand came out from under the cloak and slender figures closed over his arm. “You will leave me desolate.” She drew in a long breath. “Oh, Nathan, this is all my fault!”

  “Your fault?” Nathan smiled a little. “You are not even angry with me? Alysia, I am responsible for this, not you. I have always believed I would be killed in battle, or like this.” He hesitated. “It was selfish of me to marry you. I thought I could manage both sides of my life. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

  Alysia lowered her eyes, unable to face him. He paused again and said, “I know that Lazarus and Martha will take care of you. I have always depended on that.”

  “Yes. You need not worry about me.”

  Another long moment of silence stretched by. He said finally, “I suppose there is nothing more to say. Except that, you must be strong and steady, and believe that our cause will one day be vindicated. Goodbye, Alysia.”

  Tears streamed down her face. “Nathan, I am so sorry. If I had been a better wife—”

  “Stop,” he said at once. “What are you saying? You are a good wife. You were not happy, and that is my fault.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I cannot let you say that. You do not deserve this.”

  “Who is to say I do not deserve to die? I’ve killed a great many men, Alysia. Soldiers, yes, for to us it is a war. The commander offered me a pardon, if I would renounce my beliefs
, vow never to fight again. I refused.”

  Alysia looked down. He mustn’t see how her heart lifted at his words about Paulus.

  “Why?” she whispered. “Why did you refuse?”

  “It is—who I am. And by all that is holy, I can never stop, as long as there are foreigners ruling over us.”

  Alysia said tiredly, “You must do what you must do. Goodbye, Nathan.”

  She let her eyes meet his, then she kissed him, pressed his hands with her own, and left.

  Nathan sank slowly back against the wall as if his strength had deserted him. After a moment he looked up to see the Roman standing in the doorway, as though to give him one last chance to change his mind.

  “The guard will take you back now,” Paulus said soberly.

  Nathan gave a slow nod, walked with a pained, shuffling gait to the door, and stopped. “Can you tell me when—”

  “The execution will take place tomorrow…at sunrise.”

  CHAPTER XVI

  At Herod’s palace, Paulus gave a curt command to the enormous, bald Syrian guarding the door to Megara’s chamber. The slave stepped quickly aside, reaching out to open the door, but Paulus was already striding into the room. A gale of feminine laughter stopped abruptly, and the instant Megara saw his face she was filled with abject terror.

  Besides slaves, there were several women in the room engaged in a game of dice. Paulus’ gaze fixed on his wife. “I want to speak to you alone, Megara.”

  Megara found she was holding her breath. She released it slowly and stood up. The brief silence was broken by a young woman wearing a close-fitting saffron gown who sauntered toward him, her many bracelets and anklets tinkling with the sound of tiny bells.

  “Why, it’s the legate—and he certainly looks ready to give a few orders.” She stopped in front of him. “We’re playing knucklebones. Won’t you join us?”

  Paulus looked down and recognized Herod’s stepdaughter, Salome. Her mouth curled up on one side and a frank invitation reflected plainly from her eyes. “Or we could always play something else, if you like.”

  “Get out,” Paulus said. “All of you.”

  Salome raised an eyebrow. Before she could speak another woman rose, saying imperiously, “Come, Salome.”

  The young woman looked back and grinned. “Yes, Mother. We shall go, of course. I have envied you, Megara, but not at this moment.”

  Herodias said something to Megara, then took her daughter’s arm. Salome winked at Paulus and allowed herself to be led from the room. The other women scurried out, causing a rush of air heavy with perfume. The slaves followed, until Paulus and Megara were left alone.

  Megara raised her chin, regarding him with admirable aplomb. “Why have you been rude to my friends?”

  Paulus struggled to control his mounting rage. Megara spoke again, quickly, hoping to divert him. “I happen to know you were out all night. Where were you?”

  He answered in a cold, impersonal voice, “You will leave for Caesarea today, and you will board the first galley for Rome. I don’t care if you divorce me or not, but I intend never to lay eyes on you again.”

  Gods forbid, he knew everything! How had he found out? That stupid Macedonian—she would have him flogged, she would flog him herself! Her knees began to quake and she sat down. She looked Paulus squarely in the face. “I don’t understand. What have I done?”

  “You’ve done the one thing in all the world you were not to do, though your plot failed. And don’t try to deny it or I may kill you yet.”

  Megara debated swiftly. She wouldn’t deny, but neither would she confess. “How dare you threaten me!”

  “I know what you’ve done. Did you think I didn’t know about that jackal of yours who follows me about? He concealed himself well that day in Bethany, though, for I never saw him. That is how you found out where she lives, isn’t it, or did Herod tell you?”

  Don’t confess, don’t deny. “You’ve been with that slave again, haven’t you? You want a divorce so you can marry her! Well, I will never do it, Paulus. And with my father’s influence you will have a lot of trouble divorcing me! You will never be free to marry that harlot!”

  By the gods…he took a step forward, but Megara perceived instantly that she had gone too far. She sprang up from her chair and slid behind a table, on which thoughtfully reposed a marble bust of Socrates. Paulus was before her in two strides. The heavy sculpture crashed to the floor while the table screeched and rasped halfway across the room. Megara flattened herself against the wall and stared at him with hatred and fear in her eyes.

  Paulus stopped, grasping at control. He willed the anger to begin to drain out of him. “You have never been happy a day in your wretched life,” he said, almost gently. “You like being miserable, and you like making other people miserable. You pretended to care for me once…I wonder why you even bothered. You pretended an interest in having a family, but from your own lips you despise children. You despise having to care for anyone but yourself.”

  He paused, looking into her eyes, and went on in a low, ruthless voice. “You have never lifted your hand to do a kind deed or an honest day’s work. Tell me, Megara, what has ailed you all these years?”

  Megara straightened deliberately. “You wish to know why I married you—I will tell you! Because you were the one thing I could have that others wanted! Yes, even before our betrothal I knew how it would be. Other women could have fine clothes and slaves and anything else, but they couldn’t be married to you!”

  She paused and finally blurted, “You could be emperor someday, Paulus! You should return to Rome and try to influence Tiberius, and get rid of that feeble-minded nephew of his. Sejanus is dead now and Tiberius trusts you. You have supporters in the Senate whether you realize it or not. You have proven yourself an administrator. Besides, the oracle—” She stopped, breathless, wondering how much she should tell him.

  Paulus stared at her, unbelieving. “You really are out of your mind.” He turned away, feeling as tired as an old man, wondering if he would ever feel anything again. “Start packing,” he said over his shoulder, as he placed his hand on the gold doorknob.

  Megara moved toward him, regaining her haughty demeanor. “Aren’t you afraid that I will betray that woman, now that you are making me leave?”

  He looked back at her. “No. For if you do the entire story will come out, and all your friends will know that I preferred a slave to you. Your greatest fear has always been gossip, of looking like a fool.”

  “Why should I care about that now? Now that I’ve lost everything!”

  He looked into her exotic, topaz-colored eyes and saw nothing in them but great indignation and the raw lust for position and power. “You don’t believe that. You could still divorce me and marry Caligula—I believe he has designs on being the next emperor. He is your junior by some years, but perhaps you won’t mind too much.”

  “Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you? Then you could marry your precious slave!”

  “Alysia has refused to marry me. She has refused to see me. If you tell anyone that she is still alive you will sign my death warrant, for I did aid in her escape and she is under my protection. And what a scandal that would be, wouldn’t it? It would certainly ruin your chances of being the wife of the emperor, the wife of a god, of becoming a goddess yourself.”

  Megara grew quiet, thinking. “I don’t believe you are going to kill me if I speak, but since what you say is true I will agree to remain silent on one condition. I will go to Rome, I will not interfere in your life, but I want you to promise me that you will consider what I’ve told you. You could be regent even now if you made an effort. Why do you think Sejanus hated and feared you?”

  “I make no such promise. And I will put a stop to any machinations on your part. Just remember that any scandal attached to me is also attached to you.”

  He turned to go, stopping at Megara’s bitter laugh. “So she has refused to marry you! At least now you can know what it is to want somethi
ng, to have it within reach, but never attaining it!”

  “I am sorry to have disappointed you,” Paulus said. “Obviously, your ‘oracle’ was wrong.” Without waiting for an answer he left, closing the door behind him.

  Megara said, to the empty room, “No, Paulus. She is never wrong.”

  * * * *

  Alysia left Jerusalem without seeing Paulus again. She could not face him, could not bear another goodbye. She tried to leave secretly but found that Simon had been assigned to follow her to Bethany. Covering her face, she hurried out to the streets and made her way through the lower city, which by now had come alive with throngs of people. It was easy to slip among them, cloaked and inconspicuous. Glancing back, she spied Paulus’ slave merging in and out of the crowds behind her. She supposed she should feel relieved, reassured by his presence, but she didn’t care. She didn’t feel anything except guilt and a sense of doom.

  Even the road to Bethany was crowded today and she was able to enter the gate and her own house without notice. Once there, she didn’t know what to do. Nathan would die tomorrow…unless his small army could contrive to rescue him, and that seemed highly unlikely. They had probably all been captured with him. His body would be destroyed in a valley south of Jerusalem where fires were always kept burning for the refuse of the city, dead animals, executed criminals, the bodies of the poor.

  No! She couldn’t let that happen! He deserved a decent burial…why hadn’t she asked this of Paulus before she left? She knew the bodies of criminals were sometimes released to their families. But how was she to accomplish this? She wasn’t even supposed to know that he had been captured.

  Simon!

  Alysia ran outside, all the way to the town gate, and started back to Jerusalem. She had gone as far as the great sycamore tree that stood in the sharp curve of the road before she saw him. “Please! Please, Simon, stop!”