by Joan Wolf
I wished Jonah would stop saying that. The picture his words conjured up, of Aaron lying at the bottom of the stairs with his neck twisted, made me feel physically sick. My voice trembled as I asked, “They’re bringing him home, you said?”
“Yes, my lady.”
I struggled to think clearly. What must I do when the body got here? “I’ll have to prepare him for burial.”
“Yes, my lady,” he said again.
I wanted desperately to send for Julia, but of course I couldn’t do that. Aaron might not have been the most observant of Jews, but he had never doubted his own identity. He must be buried properly, according to our tradition.
I would have to do this by myself.
I called Elisabeth’s name, and she came quickly to my side. “Will you look to see if we have the proper oils for anointing the dead? If there are none in the house, you’ll have to send someone to buy them.”
“Yes, my lady.”
I had never anointed a dead body. I looked up into my maid’s calm brown eyes. “Do you know how this should be done, Elisabeth?”
“Yes, my lady, I do. I will help you, if you like.”
“Thank you,” I said gratefully. “I would appreciate that very much.”
“Shall I send for the rabbi?” she asked.
“I suppose we should.”
“It would be the proper thing to do, my lady,” she said.
“Then send for him.”
She gave me a quick, encouraging smile. “I’ll help you. You’ll be all right.”
My eyes blurred with tears, and I nodded. I had always liked Elisabeth and her husband. They didn’t live in the house but came to work every morning from one of the outlying villages to the north. She reminded me a little of my Aunt Leah.
Elisabeth left, and I turned once more to Aaron’s assistant. “Thank you, Jonah. I think I’d like to be alone for a while.”
“Yes, my lady.” He backed away, then turned and made a hasty exit. Alone in the quiet garden, I put my hands over my face and wished with all my heart that Julia would put her arms around me and call me her dearest girl and tell me what I should do. Marcus’ words, I’ll have to arrange it some other way, crept into my mind, and I pushed them down. I wouldn’t think that way. I wouldn’t! I had to concentrate on burying my husband.
We put aaron in the tomb he had previously purchased in a cemetery garden outside Sepphoris. Then I endured three days of visits from the Jewish wives of Aaron’s friends and business associates, the very women whom I had spurned for years in favor of Julia and her circle. I listened without comment to the malicious words these women directed at me, all under the guise of sorrow for poor Aaron, who had been forced to put up with such a sinful wife.
I hadn’t seen either Marcus or Julia since the day Aaron was carried home. I wrote to tell them what had happened, of course, but I also asked them to give me time to bury my husband among his own people.
The day after the visiting was finally over, the weather turned chilly, but that didn’t keep me indoors. I sat in my beloved garden, wrapped in a light wool cloak, breathing in the cold, clean air. With trembling hands, I rang the small bell on the table. When a servant appeared, I asked to speak to Elisabeth’s husband, Jeremiah.
He arrived almost immediately crossing the cold tiles to stand before me. “You wished to see me, my lady?”
“Yes, Jeremiah. I understand from Elisabeth that you were present when the master fell down the colonnade steps.”
“Yes, my lady, I was.”
“Did you—” I paused, drawing a deep breath. Did I really want to ask this question? Did I really want to know the answer?
“Did you see anything out of the ordinary?”
Jeremiah looked surprised. “How do you mean, my lady?”
“You have no suspicions that the master might have been . . . pushed?”
“Ah.” Jeremiah’s long thin face was very grave. “There was a crowd of people on the steps, my lady. It’s possible someone might have bumped into the master, but I cannot say that I saw anything like that happen.”
“And no one has come forward to suggest that it might not have been an accident?”
“No, my lady. No one has come forward.”
I forced a smile. “Thank you, Jeremiah. That will be all.”
I watched my servant walk away.
It was terrible of me to have such suspicions of Marcus. He was an honorable man, the father of my child. Of course I trusted him. I had to trust him.
I’ll have to arrange it, Marcus had said. And now I was a widow, free to marry whomever I wished.
I got up from my chair and went into the house, shivering uncontrollably.
Chapter Fifteen
I didn’t think I would sleep at all that night, but I slept for twelve hours without stirring. When I finally arose, my body felt rested, and I forced myself to think only of what I would do today. I ate the morning meal and then went out into the garden. Aaron had often scolded me for getting my hands dirty, but I loved to work in the garden. I toiled hard all morning and was just finishing up when Elisabeth came to tell me that Julia was here.
I went in all my dirt to meet her in the courtyard, and as soon as her arms came around me, I began to cry.
Julia patted my back. “There, there my darling. Everything is going to be all right.”
It was cold in the garden, and Julia wasn’t dressed for the cold, so I took her upstairs to my chambers. These rooms and the garden were the only parts of the house where I had ever felt comfortable.
Roman bedchambers were small, with just the bed and perhaps a couch, but I had the wall between two of the upstairs rooms removed to create a large and comfortable space.
Julia looked around with interest. A number of years ago I had commissioned an artist to paint pictures of the Sea of Galilee on all the walls. She regarded the scenes: glistening blue water with little fishing boats bobbing on the surface, a magnificent sunrise, and a view of the hills from Magdala.
“Very lovely,” she remarked when she had looked carefully at everything.
Looking at the paintings myself, I suddenly had a fierce yearning to be back at the lake, to be young and carefree, playing with the children in the garden and waiting for Daniel to come home.
Stop this, I commanded myself. If I kept thinking like this, I would start crying again.
We sat on my green couch, and Julia pushed her scarf away from her perfectly dressed blond hair. “How are you bearing up, my love?”
“Oh, Julia, it was so sad. Aaron spent all his life accumulating money, and what did he get from it in the end? I kept thinking about that as we put him in the tomb. There was no one there who truly mourned him. I was the only person who wept, and that was because I kept thinking of how he had wasted his life. I won’t miss him. I don’t think anyone will miss him.” I sighed and repeated, “It was sad.”
“He enjoyed his money. He lived in a nice house, enjoyed many of life’s luxuries.” Julia was trying to cheer me up.
I refused to be cheered. “He wasn’t a happy man. He wanted an heir so badly. I’m almost sorry I didn’t tell him about the baby. It would have given him such joy.”
“Your child would never have been Aaron’s heir!”
“I know that. But if I had let him think that for a little, he would have died happy.”
Julia said, “You do know you’re being maudlin? Aaron lived as he chose to live, and, if we are to be perfectly honest, it is a great mercy that he died. The way is now clear for you and Marcus to marry.”
Julia never flinched from facing reality.
“Yes. It is very . . . convenient.”
She nodded. “It will make things much easier for Marcus. He needs his family to stand behind him if he is to have you declared a patrician, and—to be perfectly frank, Mary, the fact that you’re now a great heiress will weigh significantly with them. No Roman willingly turns his back on a fortune.”
I began to pleat the dirt-s
tained skirt of my robe. I wanted to tell Julia about my suspicions. I wanted to share this burden. But it wouldn’t be fair to Marcus. I should talk to him first. It would be wrong to put such ideas into anyone else’s mind if he was innocent.
I looked up from the fingers wrinkling my robe. “The thought of living in Rome frightens me, Julia. Why didn’t you return to Rome when your husband died? Why did you choose to remain here, in a foreign land?”
She leaned her head back. Up close you could see the wrinkles in her neck that were invisible from a distance. Those wrinkles revealed her tenderness, her vulnerability. Being beautiful was important to Julia.
She didn’t answer immediately, and when finally she did, she didn’t look at me directly. “I am going to tell you the truth, Mary. I stayed in Sepphoris because I had a position here. Among this community of Romans, I am an important person, to men as well as women. All the consequential people in the city, both governmental and military, seek me out. They want my notice and my patronage. My reception is the most important social event of every week.”
“It is,” I agreed.
She turned her head, and the expression in her blue eyes was partly humorous and partly sad. “In Rome, Mary, I would be nothing; a little fish in a sea teeming with big fish. My father is a senator, and my husband was the son of a senator, but there are many families in Rome who can make that claim. Here I am unique. Very few sons or daughters of senators come to a provincial capital like Sepphoris. That’s why I decided to stay here. I didn’t want to go back to obscurity in Rome.”
“Would I live in obscurity in Rome?” My voice was hopeful and I rested my hand on my stomach. “Marcus told me his family had a villa in the country. It sounded like a wonderful place to live and raise a family.”
Julia laughed. “I can’t quite see Marcus Novius Claudius living in obscurity, Mary.”
Nor could I. But I could live in the country with our children, and he could come to visit us. He loved that villa. He would come as often as he could.
I wondered if his mother and father lived at the villa.
“Do you think Marcus’ parents will hate it that he married a Jew? Tell me the truth, Julia. I need to know.”
“The truth is they will accept you because of the money you bring them. And then they will come to love you, just as we have here in Sepphoris.” She picked up my hand and held it. “There is something unique about you, Mary. And I’m not speaking of your physical beauty. You have a talent for listening to people, for making them feel special. It’s a rare gift, and it will make you friends wherever you go. You will do fine with Marcus’ parents, believe me.”
It was nice of Julia to say such kind things about me, but I knew she was prejudiced. There was nothing special about me, apart from my looks. And looks were fleeting. Even Julia was beginning to show the dimming of age.
I smiled at her a little mistily. “You are too good, Julia. But thank you anyway.”
She looked around the room. It was crowded with the things that were important to me. The rest of the house bore no imprint of my presence.
Julia said, “Mary, my darling, come and stay with me for a few days. Your memories of this house can’t be happy ones. Come to me, and you may see Marcus whenever you wish.”
I was tempted, but I knew I couldn’t accept her offer. “I can’t, Julia, much as I’d like to. There’s a great deal of business to take care of, you see. Aaron’s estate is vast, and his man of business will not visit a Roman house. I really must stay here.”
“Can Marcus come here now that you’re a widow?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea. It seems . . . disrespectful, in a way.”
She smiled. “You have such quaint ideas sometimes, my darling. But it’s of no great matter. You can still see each other at my house.”
I walked her to the door. As she turned to leave, she surveyed me from head to toe, frowned, and told me I was too thin.
I sighed. “Julia, you’re always telling me I’m too thin.”
“But now you’re eating for the baby as well as yourself. You can’t afford to let your emotions rob you of your appetite, Mary.”
“I won’t,” I promised, and we said good-bye.
Later that day I received a note from Marcus asking me to meet him at Julia’s the following afternoon. I replied that I would, and then I began to worry about how I could possibly ask Marcus whether he’d caused the death of my husband. I was almost relieved when Aaron’s banker called with some papers for me to look at.
When I Reached Julia’s house late the following afternoon, the sun hung low in the western sky. I walked through to the garden and found a group of workers packing up their gear.
The eldest of them apologized for being in my way.
I smiled. “Not at all. I had forgotten that Julia Tiberia planned to add more mosaic tiles. Is that what you have been doing?”
“Yes, my lady. This is our first day.” The man smiled back. He wasn’t young, but he looked fit. His face had the deep tan of those who work outdoors. His brown eyes looked intelligent.
“Julia Tiberia said the builders from Nazareth are the best in the country and that you’re the best in Nazareth.”
He looked pleased. “We are but a small business, my lady, just my sons and me, but we are very conscientious.” He nodded to the four younger men, who had finished packing up, and they took their leave.
I wasn’t sure if any other workmen might be around, so I went into the garden chamber to wait for Marcus. I stood by the latticework window and looked out into Julia’s small grove of fig trees.
Perhaps a half hour passed before Marcus opened the door and came in. He seemed to tower in the small space; I had forgotten just how big he was.
He came to me immediately and took me in his arms. “I’m sorry I’m late, Mary, my love. How are you? I wanted to be with you, but you asked me to stay away. It wasn’t what I wanted.”
I put my arms around his waist and buried my face in his shoulder. His arms tightened around me, and I felt safe and protected and loved. He’s a good man, I thought. He would never do anything evil.
He put a finger under my chin and lifted my face. The window was on the west side of the house and the sun spilled in behind us. The light played off the planes of his face in a way that made them seem harder than usual.
He said, “You’re too thin.”
I laughed. “Are you and Julia in a conspiracy to fatten me up?”
He smiled back. “No. But that is my child you are carrying, and I want you to feed him.”
I sighed and stepped away, resolutely pushing back my desire to cuddle against him again. “Marcus, we need to talk.”
He glanced over my head at the bed. “Now?”
“Now,” I said firmly.
“All right.” His tone said he was humoring me. “We’ll talk. Come and sit down.” We sat on the couch, turning to face each other. “I assume you want to talk about our marriage,” he said.
I opened my mouth to say I wanted to talk about Aaron’s death, but what came out was “Perhaps we should.”
His face grew serious, and he took my hand. “I can tell you now that I was a little concerned about getting permission from my father. It is he who has Tiberius’ ear, you see, and I need him to make the formal request to the emperor that will declare you a Roman patrician. Tiberius hardly sees anyone anymore, but he and my father are cousins, and they fought together in the same war. I know he’ll agree to see my father.”
“But why do you think your father will agree to do this now, if you weren’t sure of him before?”
He gave me the smile I loved the best, the one that made him look like a boy, and said, “Your inheritance.”
All that money that seemed such a burden to me. I said as lightly as I could, “Are you marrying me for my money, Marcus?”
He took it as a legitimate question. “I have no need of your money, my love. I have plenty of my own. My family has plenty of money
too.” One black eyebrow quirked. “But they will be overjoyed to get more.”
He must have caught an expression on my face because he said, “That’s the way of the world, Mary. I know it’s not your way. I have never met anyone to whom possessions meant so little as you, but don’t make the mistake of judging others by your own selflessness, my love. Money is what runs the world.”
I thought of why Lord Benjamin wouldn’t allow me to marry Daniel, of the huge bride price Aaron had paid for me, of the way the rabbi in Sepphoris spurned the poor and cultivated the rich. It was hard to deny Marcus’ statement.
He leaned forward and grasped my other hand. “Don’t look so sad. I wanted to marry you when you didn’t have a penny. Not everyone measures value by money. I want to marry you because I love you, Mary. That is my only reason.”
I looked into his face, and I knew he was telling me the truth.
I couldn’t ask him if he’d killed my husband. There had to be some other way to broach the question of Aaron’s death. Then I thought of Jeremiah, and I had an idea.
“One thing is worrying me. One of my servants saw Aaron’s accident, and he told me he thought Aaron might have been pushed. Could that be true?”
His black brows drew together. “I’ve heard no such thing. He fell, Mary. He was old, and he fell. That is all.”
I looked at my lap. “Do you think you might make some inquiries? I hate to think that someone might have done this deliberately.”
“Look at me, Mary,” he said.
I raised my face. His light green eyes locked on mine. “Be sensible, my love. Nothing can be gained by pursuing such an inquiry now. And even if someone did bump into him, it would have been an accident.”
“I see,” I said in a low voice.
“Don’t look back, my love, look forward. The path to our marriage is clear because of the old Jew’s death. I no longer have to strong-arm him into divorcing you, and my family will be much more inclined to welcome you as an heiress. We have been very fortunate; I don’t want to do anything that could jeopardize our future.” He paused. “Do you understand what I am saying?”