Antonius watched her, his eyes sliding from the straight dark hair, across skin bronzed by the sun, to the sandals on her feet. His gaze returned to her face and rested there. She had a flawless complexion and shimmering brown eyes that seemed to see into his soul. She could not be called beautiful, even by her own countrymen’s standards. Still, there was something that caused a person to want to be close to her. A gentleness. A peacefulness that seemed to come from within.
He noticed again the sheen of her dark skin. No Roman woman would be caught dead with skin of such a color. It seemed too plebeian. Roman women took pains to make sure that their skin was creamy and white. Antonius found the contrast rather stimulating. Shaking his head, he turned away.
“Come. I will introduce you to my sister.”
Standing, he helped Sara to her feet, which she found rather disconcerting. He held her hand a moment longer than necessary, though Sara could tell it was without conscious thought. Letting go of her hand, he brushed a hand through his dark hair, breathing out a long sigh.
“Sara, I need to explain something to you. I brought you here not only to be a servant—I already have more than I can use—but to be a friend. A companion for my sister.” He stared into her eyes, willing her to understand. “She’s very lonely. It’s harder for her than most because for so long she was the toast of Ephesus, even at her age. She had many friends and plenty of them men. Now, no one comes to see her, except perhaps my friend Flavius.”
He could tell by her puzzled expression that she didn’t understand what he was trying to say. He tried again. “People in Ephesus are concerned with their health. We have an abundance of physicians to attend to their needs, but they have a tendency to fear what they cannot understand.”
Sara looked up suddenly, catching the intent look of Antonius’s eyes. Hers were filled with comprehension. “Is your sister’s illness contagious?”
“No.”
“You know that for certain?”
“Yes,” he told her adamantly. “No one else in this house has been ill, nor I for that matter, and Diana has been ill for some time. Ever since. . .”
He stopped suddenly, and Sara wondered what he had been about to say.
“Come. I will introduce you, then we will talk again.”
Sara followed him up the staircase that led to a balcony above. He stopped outside a door and tapped gently.
“Come.” The voice was muted, but sadness laced the one word.
Antonius opened the door and went inside, Sara close on his heels. The room was darkened against the afternoon sun. A figure reclined on the bed, but it was too dark to tell much about it. Sara assumed that it was Diana.
“Antonius!”
A thrill ran through Sara at the intensity of the greeting. Happiness, longing, and desperation, all rolled into one. It was obvious that Antonius was Diana’s whole existence.
Diana buried her face in her hands and started weeping softly. “Oh, Antonius! Where have you been? I called and called, but Decimus said you had gone.”
Antonius went to her and gathered her gently in his arms. Diana clung to him as he tried to soothe her distress. Sara felt a lump in her own throat. What must Diana’s life be like that a visit from her own brother was what she longed for with every fiber of her being?
“Come now, little dove,” he remonstrated softly. “You’ll make yourself ill. Dry your eyes and see what I have brought for you.”
The sobbing stopped instantly, but Sara could see the sheen in the eyes lifted to Antonius’s face.
“What have you brought me?”
The childlike cadence of the voice were all the more surprising when a servant came in and pulled back the drapes from the window, and Sara could see the figure in the bed for the first time. Blond hair, the color of the sun in the afternoon, was matted around a porcelain white face that had to be at least as old as Sara. Blue eyes that were almost violet turned to regard Sara.
Antonius motioned Sara into the room. “I have brought you a companion.” At Diana’s startled look, he continued. “Now you need never be alone again.”
Sara felt her heart sink. Was she to be the slave of a lonely, ill girl who had nothing to live for, it would seem, except her brother? Sara felt compassion for the girl but wondered if she, too, would be required to stay in a dark bedroom all day. Flicking her eyes around the room, Sara was conscious of marble tables, chests carved from cedar, and silk draperies that bespoke of wealth and luxury. A gilded prison, but a prison nevertheless. She chastised herself for her selfishness. What would Jesus have her do? With the question came peace. She would do whatever she could to make Diana’s days happier.
Diana opened her mouth to say something but stopped. She turned to Sara, and a sudden smile lit up her features. Sara felt a twinge of envy. With her hair combed and dressed properly, Diana would be remarkably beautiful. Diana’s eyes took on an animation of their own.
“Hello.” Her voice had brightened considerably. Sara searched her eyes and found only warm friendliness. She returned the girl’s smile and felt something pass between them.
“I know we will be friends,” Diana told her, and Sara believed her, relaxing visibly.
Antonius watched the exchange with satisfaction. He had done the right thing. He knew it now, though he felt a slight pang when he remembered Abigail’s face as he had ridden away with her daughter. Arrogance quickly resurfaced. What did it matter? They were only Jews, while he as a Roman soldier had a job to do. He had been on the brink of a decision that would have altered his life completely. Now he felt like he could postpone what he considered to be the inevitable. Someday he would have to resign his commission in the legion to stay home and be with Diana. How much longer she had, he didn’t know, and his heart sank when he thought of life without her. Every time he had been sent away, when he returned, he found Diana much worse than when he had left. It would take weeks to get her back to normal. At least as normal as possible in her circumstances.
Releasing Diana from his arms, Antonius rose from the bed. “I will leave you two to get to know each other. I have some things that need my attention.”
Diana clung to his hand, staring imploringly up into his face.
“It’s all right,” he told her quietly. “I will be in the office. I have to go over the shipping lists with Abijah. I will be close by if you need me.”
Reluctantly Diana released his hand. When Antonius reached the door, he turned back to Sara. “I will speak to you later, after Diana is settled for the night.”
Sara nodded, swallowing hard when the door closed behind him. She turned to Diana, who was watching her curiously.
“You are not Roman. Nor Greek for that matter.”
“No,” Sara explained. “I am Jewish.”
“Ah. A slave?” she questioned.
Sara hesitated. “I suppose you could say so.”
Diana quirked an eyebrow and looked remarkably like her brother. “You’re not sure?”
Again Sara hesitated. “I consider no man my master.”
Diana’s eyebrows flew upward, her mouth quirking with humor. “It’s obvious you’ve never had a lover.”
Color suffused Sara’s face. Thinking carefully before answering, she finally told Diana, “No. That is true. But that is not what I meant. Actually, what I meant to say is that I already have a master.”
“Of course you do, silly. Antonius.”
“No.” Sara was being drawn into a conversation she didn’t think she was ready for. Somehow, this did not seem the right time. “I serve my God.”
“Oh!” Diana relaxed. “Is that all? Which one?”
“To the Jews, there is only one.”
Diana wrinkled her nose. “Sounds boring to me. But it doesn’t really matter. I no longer believe in deities anyway. I have asked healing from them all, paid a large sum of money, even, and still nothing.” She settled herself back on the bed, her face filled with despair. “You may serve your God, Sara. I suppose it doesn’
t hurt to have faith in something.” The desolation in her voice convinced Sara that there was nothing left for Diana to believe in. In time, perhaps Sara could share God’s love with her. Even the apostle Paul had shared the good news with the Romans. Could she do any less?
“My lady,” Sara asked hesitantly. “Would you like me to dress your hair?”
Diana turned her head lethargically on the pillow. “What for? There’s no one to see me.”
Sudden inspiration made Sara pause. “There’s Tribune Antonius.”
Diana thought about it. She supposed that with everything Antonius did for her, the least she could do was look presentable. It had been a long while since she had cared anything about her looks. Antonius would love her anyway, but still some measure of pride returned to her.
“Yes, Sara. That would be good. Have Decimus bring some water.”
Sara smiled. “Yes, my lady.” When Sara opened the door, she found a young man waiting outside. He quickly got to his feet. Although he was young, his handsome features bespoke of early manhood. His short white tunic showed to perfection his strong, muscular body. Blond hair shimmered in the afternoon sun, and his clear blue eyes regarded her expectantly. Sara assumed that he was required to stay there in case Diana needed anything.
“You wish for something?” he asked quickly.
“I need water to wash my lady’s hair.” The boy’s eyes lit up, and it was clear to Sara that Diana was liked by the boy. “Can you find me some fragrance for the rinse water, and some olive oil?”
“Right away, my lady.” He turned and hurried away.
Sara went back into the room. “Where are the brushes, my lady?”
Diana frowned at her. “You needn’t call me ‘my lady.’ I don’t want you to seem just another servant. I want us to be friends. Call me Diana.”
Refusing to consider what the tribune might think of such an arrangement, Sara nodded. Diana motioned to the dressing table. “You’ll find the brushes and things over there.”
A tap at the door signaled the return of Decimus with the water. He went to the corner and set the urn next to a small marble tub. Going to the door, he turned. “If there is anything else, I am right outside.” He closed the door quietly behind him.
Sara went to Diana and helped her to sit up in bed. Taking the brush, Sara began to gently stroke Diana’s hair, starting at the bottom and working her way up. Eventually her hair was free of tangles. Although Diana’s hair was long, it was thin and dull, an obvious sign of ill health. Sara had done her best to make sure she didn’t hurt the girl, knowing that her head would be sensitive after such a long period without care. Since Sara found no evidence of lice, she assumed that someone had washed Diana’s hair before, or maybe her sickness hadn’t been that long.
Pulling a chair carved from Lebanon cedar over to the marble tub, Sara prepared to wash Diana’s hair. She kept up a constant flow of chatter that required little effort on Diana’s part but helped her to relax.
Sara helped Diana to the seat and began to gently wash her hair. She rinsed it with clear water that turned a dirty brown as it flowed through Diana’s hair. Deciding to wash it several times, Sara had to first ask Decimus to bring more water.
When the rinse water finally ran clear, Sara took a towel and began to pat the hair dry. She poured a measure of oil from the cruse and began to massage it into Diana’s scalp. As she worked her fingers through Diana’s hair, she began to hum a tune that her mother had sung to her as a child. The soothing melody helped Diana relax, and soon she closed her eyes.
“That feels wonderful, Sara. I don’t know why I never bothered before.”
Taking the brush, Sara first washed it in some water before using it to brush out Diana’s hair again. Finally her golden tresses lay curling against her back, the olive oil giving it extra shine.
“Would you like to change outfits, my. . .Diana? This one is a little wet.”
Submitting patiently to Sara’s ministrations, it wasn’t long before Diana was settled back against the pillows on her sleeping couch. Sara decided that enough had been done for one day. Diana was tired, but already she looked like a changed girl. A feeling of accomplishment engulfed Sara. Given time, Sara knew she could come to love this unhappy Roman girl.
The soft, regular breathing told Sara that Diana was asleep. Taking Diana’s soiled tunic, she went to the window and pulled the drapes a little. Enough to keep out most of the light, but not enough to give it the tomblike appearance it had before.
Opening the door, she found Decimus waiting expectantly.
“Could you empty the water?” she asked him, and he nodded his head, going past her and into the room. Picking up the tub, he started to pass Sara, his eyes quickly surveying the sleeping figure. A smile crossed his lips fleetingly.
“What do I do with the soiled tunic?” she asked.
He turned his look full upon Sara. “Just leave it by the door on the balcony. I will see to it. The master wanted to see you when his sister fell asleep.” His eyes went back to the bed. “She doesn’t stay awake very long at a time. She’s very weak. What you’ve accomplished today is a miracle.”
Following him back down the stone balustrade, Sara wondered if perhaps he might be right. Had her Lord sent her here for a purpose? Like Paul who was in chains himself and still managed to win most of the household of Caesar to the Lord? The thought was disturbing. And what of the tribune? What part did he have to play in all of this drama? The house seemed suddenly sinister. There was much of the evil one at work here, but praying to the Lord helped to push back the darkness. For the time being, she would be a light in this house. She would try not to be afraid, and she would try her best to show the Way to these infidels. Already she was beginning to love one. She prayed fervently that she would not love the other.
Chapter 5
Sara entered the bibliotheca behind Decimus. She stared around her at the large number of papyrus scrolls that rested in cubicles in the walls. Manuscripts seemed to be on every available surface. Sara had heard of such libraries before but had never seen one.
Antonius was leaning over a table when they entered. He straightened up and motioned Sara forward. His eyes were questioning, so Sara answered him. “Diana is asleep.”
He nodded. “And? What did you think?”
“She seems very fragile and lonely. Other than that, I know very little.”
Decimus interrupted. “My lady allowed her to wash her hair. And she changed her tunic, also.”
Antonius looked at Sara in surprise. “How did you manage this?”
Sara shrugged. “I merely suggested it.”
“I have suggested this also, but she has never done it for me,” Antonius told her.
“Perhaps you didn’t have the right incentive,” Sara told him mysteriously.
“And that is?”
Even Decimus seemed intrigued, waiting for her to answer.
“I only suggested that she might wish to look nice for you, Tribune.”
Antonius felt humbled by Diana’s love, but he was also filled with exhilaration. Sara had managed to do in a few hours what he and the other servants hadn’t been able to do in months. Fortune had smiled upon him when she led him to Sara that day. He would have to arrange a sacrifice to the gods. Perhaps Fortuna, goddess of luck.
He turned to Decimus. “From now on, when Sara is with Diana, you no longer need to wait outside her door. But when Sara needs something, be prepared for her call.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Decimus and Antonius exchanged glances, smiling at each other before the boy left the room. Sara watched him depart.
“Decimus. . . Is he a slave, also?”
Antonius felt uncomfortable. “Yes.” The short, clipped word told Sara that he would say nothing more on the subject. If Sara wanted to know anything more about Decimus, she would have to find out from Decimus himself.
Rolling up the papyrus he had been examining, Antonius used it as an excuse to turn awa
y from Sara’s accusing eyes. Her censure bothered him, but she asked him a different question from what he was expecting.
“When did Diana become sick? Was she visiting out of the country?”
Antonius shook his head. “No.”
He seemed disinclined to speak further, so Sara pressed harder. “It would help me, Tribune, to know how to deal with her sickness. What do the doctors say?”
He waited so long to answer that Sara thought he wasn’t going to. Finally he looked at her angrily. “They say she is under some kind of curse from the gods.”
“That’s it? That’s all they say?”
Antonius nodded his head. Putting away the last scroll, he motioned to the doorway. “Let’s go into the atrium where it’s cooler, and I will try to explain things.”
Sara followed him through the doorway and into the atrium. For the first time, she noticed the scenes depicted on the wall hangings. Various gods played among the heavens and the earth, while people gave offerings. Other scenes depicted the battles of the Roman army. Sara shivered with distaste. Noticing her response, Antonius hid a smile.
“Perhaps the peristyle would be better.”
Sara followed him through the marble portals to the seat beside the fountain. He motioned for her to be seated, but he stood before her, trying to gather his thoughts.
“Almost a year ago, my sister was engaged to a Roman noble. They were very much in love, but shortly after their engagement party, he was killed when a horse threw him. He was a friend of mine, also.” He stopped, and Sara watched his eyes glaze over at the remembered pain. “For a time, Diana refused to see anyone. Even me. She hid in her bedroom and would scream if anyone so much as tried to come near her. I called for the physicians, but they needed to examine her to see if there was anything more than grief wrong with her.” Slowly he sank to the bench beside her, a faraway look in his eyes.
“And was there?” she questioned, even though she thought she already knew the answer.
He glanced at her uncomprehendingly. “What? Oh. . .not that they could find. One physician left a draught for her to take to help her sleep. It was the first sleep she had had in almost a week.” He leaned his head in his hands. “I thought her mind was gone. I have seen this happen before when someone lost a loved one.”
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