by Tessa Afshar
Viriato scratched his beard. “I am sure I will agree as soon as I’ve figured out what you said.”
Lydia smiled sweetly at Viriato. “It would be too expensive to use,” she said without a hint of self-consciousness. I wondered if all the children in Thyatira were this confident. Somehow I doubted it. “My father is brilliant, though he is too modest to say so. No one has managed to produce such a color without sea snails. He has worked for years on this formula.”
Eumenes smiled. “You must forgive my daughter. She has too high an opinion of me. I cannot find it in myself to correct her error.”
“If this color is any indication, you deserve her high esteem.” Ethan turned a piece of fabric over, his fingers caressing the edge. “May we keep these samples for a week? I would like to examine them under the brightness of the sun.”
“Go ahead and wash it too,” Lydia said. “Once, I washed a piece of dyed linen one hundred times. My father said I tested my sums as well as his dye. The color faded only a tiny bit. You would hardly have noticed if you didn’t compare it to the original.”
“Are you always such a good saleswoman?” I asked.
“Oh no, mistress. Sometimes people don’t seem to appreciate it when I speak. A Roman lord once offered to buy me from my father. Not because he liked me so much, he said, but because he felt sorry for my father.”
I swallowed a smile. “I take it your father did not accept the man’s offer?”
“He said he would think about it. Sometimes he threatens to write the Roman a letter of acceptance.”
“You don’t seem too worried,” Viriato said.
“Of course not. My father would be lost without me.”
At that, even the men could not keep silent. Everyone laughed. Lydia gave us a haughty glance. Clearly, she had not been jesting.
The dye, though expensive, cost less than half the price of the famed royal purple derived from sea snails. One jar of purple dye had the same value as pure silver. Master Eumenes’ dye, by comparison, offered great value.
Because Ezer had invited us to this meeting, my father and I could have purchased the dye directly from Eumenes, saving ourselves the middleman’s portion. Ethan’s generosity never ceased to touch me. My father, however, was not easy to convince. No one knew Eumenes in Jerusalem, and though his letters of reference seemed impeccable, and he belonged to the famed trade union of Thyatira, an immediate purchase would have been risky.
It was a risk I would have taken. To my surprise, Master Ezer declined an outright purchase as well. Instead, he settled for a number of samples and a promise to contact Eumenes soon.
Before leaving, Lydia placed a short length of purple fabric into my hands. “I dyed it myself. It’s not large. Enough for a summer mantle. You are so pretty, Elianna. I couldn’t resist giving it to you.”
“And you are precious,” I said. I embraced her warmly, wishing I could sneak her home with me. “Thank you for my gift. I regret I have nothing to give you in return.”
“It isn’t necessary. Besides, I pinned our address to one corner. Once you wear that mantle, you will be convinced that nothing matches our new dye and will want to buy bushels of it.”
“Maybe I will offer to buy you from your father as well. You can come and work for me. We shall double our sales with you on our side.”
Lydia grabbed her father’s hand and kissed it with tenderness. “I could never leave my father.”
He ruffled her hair with absentminded affection. “Sweet girl. In truth, I can’t bear to part with her myself. Her mother died two years ago. It’s only us now. So I drag her around the world whenever I travel. I suppose it’s selfish of me. I ought to leave her safely in Thyatira, minding our home. Instead, I give in to her pleas and let her join me. Where would be the joy in life without my daughter?”
I felt like someone had pierced my heart with a knife. The obvious affection between father and daughter was a painful contrast to my own circumstance. My father would happily leave me behind. I had little joy to offer him. My eyes filled with tears.
A warm hand enveloped mine. Startled, I looked up into Ethan’s eyes. He said nothing. His hand, wrapped over mine, felt solid and reassuring, his gaze steady like a bracing touch. He hid our intertwined hands in the folds of my tunic. I felt the shaft of pain leave my heart, bit by bit, as if melting in Ethan’s comforting grip.
“I miss him,” I said, my voice soft and sad. Ethan alone heard. He alone understood.
“I know.”
The barley ripened early that year, and the month of Nisan sprang upon us before we were ready. Herod Antipas came to Jerusalem in time for the barley harvest and Passover. He liked to give the impression that he was an observant Jew and had come to Jerusalem in time to make his sacrifice at the Temple. Not that anyone believed his fervent posturing. He praised God with one side of his mouth and declared his love for the Roman Caesar with the other. Still, popular or not, he was ruler over a quarter of Israel and a man of great wealth and influence.
Of course my family accepted Claudia’s invitation to the banquet that was given in his honor the week before Passover. The feast was held at the Roman prefect’s palace. Valerius Gratus was the governor of Judea at the time, and he had gone to some trouble on Herod’s behalf. The banquet room blazed with hundreds of lamps and numberless servants and slaves mingled amongst guests, tending to their needs.
My father grumbled under his breath as we arrived. Attending such a feast, though a great honor, did not come free. According to the Pharisees’ interpretation of the Law, we would have to ritually purify ourselves merely for entering the Roman governor’s house or we would not be able to partake of the feast of Passover at the end of the week.
Claudia herself welcomed us before introducing us to her husband, Titus. I could see why she seemed so smitten with him. Good-looking, with fair hair and a clean-shaven square jaw, Titus demonstrated none of the usual Roman superiority common to men of his class. Instead, he welcomed us as though we were the most important people in the Roman Empire.
“Your daughter came to my wife’s rescue in the market, as you no doubt have heard,” he said to my father. “I owe her great thanks.”
I had not bothered to tell my father the story. He had shown so little interest in my life these past two years that I had fallen out of the habit of sharing anything with him that did not relate to business. He gave me a sidelong glance, caught off guard by Titus’s words. “Thank you for your invitation, my lord.”
“I hope you shall meet many new customers this evening. Claudia has been singing the praises of your wares to every Roman she can find. She would speak to the Jews as well, if they would actually listen.”
My father cleared his throat. “You are both most kind.”
Claudia drew Joanna, my mother, and me to a quieter corner and settled us on a soft couch, knowing our discomfort amongst this mixed company of strangers. We were not poor people and ate well enough. But that night I observed such luxury as I had never seen before.
The smell of lamb, domestic fowl, and fried game mingled with expensive spices and rich sauces. Pastries sweetened with honey, fruit, almond and walnut paste sat on silver and gold trays in artistically arranged pyramids. At one point they brought in a whole peacock, fully cooked and then decorated with its own feathers and eggs. Such an abundance of food was on display that it took four whole hours to serve everything. We could have fed half the city of Jerusalem with what they put before us at Herod’s banquet.
I almost lost my appetite when I saw a platter full of oysters pass right under my nose. We Jews were not allowed to eat shellfish and sea creatures without scales, and thank God for his favor, I thought! Why would anyone in possession of half a brain wish to put such things into his mouth?
Claudia pointed out a beautifully decorated dish to me. “Stuffed dormice with minced pork. A great Roman delicacy.” She burst into peals of laughter at the looks on Joanna’s and my faces. “I suppose I ought not point out
the snails to you, then.”
I had once seen a bust of Herod Antipas as a young man. He had seemed well-favored to me then, with a comely nose, chiseled mouth, and a strong jawline. But even the cold marble had revealed a subtle hint of cruelty and debasement in that face.
The man in the governor’s palace was a far cry from the youthful face caught in stone. He had gone to fat; the thin lines of his mouth hinted at a spoilt, selfish nature. He spent most of the evening eating a lot and drinking more, saying barely a word to his companions. I tried to see what he put in his mouth and whether he avoided unclean foods. But he was too far, and in any case, I lost interest when I saw saliva dangling from his decorated beard.
In spite of the richness of the repast before us, I had a simple meal that night, too fearful to indulge in anything lest it prove a violation of God’s commands. The vegetables seemed safest, and like the prophet Daniel, I stuck to them. I tried artichokes, asparagus, sweet parsnip, and a plain wheat roll. Joanna ate even less. At one point in the evening, I noticed her staring several times at a particular corner, reddening, and lowering her head, only to stare again. Curious, I turned to see what held her interest. I found nothing there but a tall young man with brown curly hair and the most besotted expression on his face. He was looking straight at my sister.
I turned to Claudia. “Who is that young man?”
Claudia squinted. “He came with Herod’s household. Part of his staff, I believe. Now let me see. Oh yes. His name is Chuza; his father is Herod’s steward.”
“You don’t know him well?”
“Never spoke to him in my life.” She lowered her voice so only I could hear her. “He looks over here a great deal. The object of his interest seems to be your younger sister. He has good taste—this much we can say about him.”
“She seems to be looking back,” I whispered.
“Say no more. I shall discover all I can about him. Leave it to me.”
I grinned. “Mind you don’t breathe a word to her about what we are up to. I don’t want to encourage her until I know what manner of man he is.”
Claudia left on our clandestine mission to unearth what she could about Joanna’s admirer. Chuza could not resist Joanna, it seemed. He kept inventing excuses to come near us until even my mother, who was busy speaking to an acquaintance, took notice. “What is that man up to? He stares at Joanna as if she were a piece of pastry. I will fetch your father if he keeps this up.”
“Oh, please, no, Mother!” Joanna gasped. “I am sure he means no disrespect. Please don’t embarrass him.”
A few moments later, Claudia returned. “You will like what I have to say, I hope,” she whispered.
“What is that?”
“He comes with glowing references. Good character, upstanding family, quite well-connected. And of course, he is a Jew.”
“Too bad he lives in Galilee.”
“Not for the next two weeks. He and his father remain in Jerusalem with Herod until after the feast of Passover. What we need is a plan. A means of bringing Chuza’s father and yours together. Allow the families to meet and become friends. One fact is in our favor. Herod’s wife, Phasaelis, is a genuine princess—the daughter of King Aretas, the Nabatean ruler.”
I wiped my forehead with my hand. “I will regret asking this, no doubt, but what has the lineage of Antipas’s wife to do with our domestic plans for Joanna?”
“As a princess, Phasaelis will have a love for beautiful fabrics. Doubt it not. She will wish to purchase piles of things from your workshop. And of course she will have to send Chuza’s father as a go-between. In fact, give me a moment with Titus, and I can guarantee that she will.”
“Another hour, and we shall arrange the future of the empire between us,” I said, wagging my finger.
Claudia flashed a sparkling smile. “I am up to running the world.”
“Well, I’m not. I can hardly run my own life.”
Claudia slumped. “One’s own life is always more difficult to manage than the whole world put together. The emperors and governors of this world have it easy. It’s wives and daughters who have to struggle the hardest.”
We burst out laughing. A young slave, clad in a minuscule tunic that showed off his hairless bare arms and legs, came over and offered us a tray of figs dipped in honey. I goggled in spite of my best intentions to appear as sophisticated as the other women in the banquet. I had never seen that much of any adult man’s flesh on display. Joanna leaned over. “Don’t you think he is very handsome?”
“Who? The slave?”
Joanna choked on her fig. “No, of course not. I mean the young man with the curly hair. The one over by that wall.”
“Oh, you mean Chuza?”
“Chuza? You know his name? How did you find out?”
“I have my ways,” I said with a smug shrug of my shoulder.
Joanna shook my arm. “Don’t tease, Elianna. Who is he?”
“He is the son of Herod’s steward. He lives in Galilee and helps his father in Herod’s household. According to Claudia, he has an impeccable reputation. Satisfied?”
Joanna’s eyes sparkled like the lampstands in the Temple. “I knew he would be good. Did you say Galilee? Why does he have to live so far away? I shall never meet him.” She groaned.
“The Lord has not forgotten about you, my lovely sister. And neither have Claudia and I. We have an inspired plan. But you must make me a promise, Joanna.”
“Anything.”
I did not wish to encourage Joanna too readily, before we found out more about Chuza and his family. Caution dampened my growing enthusiasm. I was happy to see Joanna come to life with hope. But I wanted to temper that hope in case it came to nothing.
“We don’t as yet know enough about him. Chuza may not turn out to be what he appears. Remember the words of the wise king: ‘Promise me, O women of Jerusalem, not to awaken love until the time is right.’”
“Who spoke of love?” Joanna mumbled. Her foot caught in the hem of her tunic as she turned; she stumbled and would have fallen if I hadn’t steadied her.
NINE
Hear the word of the LORD, O children of Israel,
for the LORD has a controversy with the inhabitants of the land.
There is no faithfulness or steadfast love,
and no knowledge of God in the land;
there is swearing, lying, murder, stealing, and committing adultery;
they break all bounds, and bloodshed follows bloodshed.
HOSEA 4:1-2
TO MY UTTER ASTONISHMENT, Chuza and his father, Shual, accompanied by Claudia and her husband, showed up at our doorstep the very next morning. My father knew nothing about the whole affair, except for a passing remark of my mother’s about a young man whose eyes chased after Joanna all night. He only knew that a company of important customers had descended upon him.
Claudia asked for both my father and me, and we arrived almost at the same time.
“Master Benjamin,” Titus began, “allow me to introduce you to my friends. We have come this morning in search of a few special tokens. As steward to Herod’s household, Master Shual has many needs. My wife assures me that you are more than able to provide what we seek.”
My father bowed. “You are welcome, my lords. My lady. I believe Lady Claudia has honored us with several purchases before.”
Claudia spread the skirt of her green tunic. “As you see. Elianna embroidered these flowers with her own hand. Or was it your sister, Joanna? I forget.”
“I designed them and Joanna embroidered most of them. I was working on the matching paenula.”
“I remember now. It is too fine a day for a cape, sadly, or I would have worn it. Where is she, Master Benjamin?”
“Where is who, my lady?”
“Your younger daughter, Joanna. Let Herod’s steward see the hands that create such fine work.”
My father scratched his head. Claudia’s request was unusual. But how could a merchant turn down a great lady’s requ
est? “If you wish.”
Joanna arrived dressed in a simple ivory tunic, her hair covered demurely by a light veil. I saw her so often, it slipped my mind how ravishing she was. Claudia placed her finger under Joanna’s chin and lifted her lowered face. “Simply charming,” she said. “Do you not agree, Master Shual?”
“Beauty has been generous to your family, Master Benjamin,” Shual said. “Two daughters as beautiful as jewels. Tell me, have you any sons?”
My heart stopped. I saw the blood drain from my father’s face; he turned white as marble and just as still. I could not breathe. We lived in a small community. Everyone knew us. Since Joseph’s death, no one had had cause to ask such a question. The room grew heavy with awkward discomfort.
To my shock, it was my shy sister who came to our rescue. “My little brother died two years ago, Master Shual.” Her voice was soft and wistful. “We miss him terribly.”
“Of course you do. Forgive me. May the Lord bring you his comfort and bestow upon you the oil of gladness.”
My father nodded, his eyes misty and out of focus. One of the servants came in with sweet wine just then, a mercy from the Lord, I thought, and the distress caused by the simple question started to dissipate.
Titus addressed my father and Shual, talking of the news from the West and the latest gossip from Rome and other nonsense I could not retain. Word by gentle word, he changed the atmosphere of the room until all of us started to grow calm. Titus Flavius had a gift with people. He took their measure and approached them with a subtle diplomacy that bordered on genius. I could not have been more grateful to him for his intervention that day if he had given me a royal palace.
I caught Chuza staring at my sister, his eyes glittering as if he had a fever. His whole face had turned the color of a ripe beet. Joanna seemed struck by the same malady. She flushed until her cheeks turned into radishes. Beets and radishes, I thought. They ought to make a nice salad together.
Whether Master Shual had been forewarned of the true purpose behind this visit or he was a particularly shrewd man, I cannot say. He looked from one to the other. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he covered his chin with a be-ringed hand.