Love's Pardon

by Darlene Mindrup

  “Hello, Tapat. Will you tell my mother that I am here?”

  She bobbed her head briefly, glancing at Andronicus before turning away.

  Lucius looked at his friend also, surprised to see his gaze intently fixed on the retreating girl. The look on his face was hard to define. Lucius’s dark brows winged upward. Perhaps it was not Anna who drew him here after all, leaving Lucius unsettled at the powerful feeling of relief that swept through him. Allowing himself to be involved with a Jew could only lead to trouble, yet no matter how hard he rebuked himself, he couldn’t help the attraction he felt whenever he was anywhere near Anna.

  Music from a lyre drifted out to them from the peristyle, followed by a voice that sounded so pure and sweet that he caught his breath at the beauty of it. They stopped, hesitant to intrude upon such a moment.

  He and Andronicus stood unnoticed in the doorway, watching Anna strumming the musical instrument with her eyes closed, the look of pure joy on her face impacting Lucius more than anything had in a very long time. What had been denied her in beauty was more than made up for in her golden voice.

  Lucius stood transfixed, but then the words slowly penetrated his euphoria and caught his attention, making him frown.

  “A Father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in His holy dwelling.”

  If this God of theirs was a Father to the fatherless, He was doing a very poor job. And He also wasn’t doing a very good job of defending Lucius’s mother, who was a widow.

  Tapat leaned down to Leah and indicated that the men were standing at the entrance to the peristyle. Leah came to her feet at once, causing Anna to break from her song. Anna’s face colored crimson in embarrassment and she set the lyre aside. Lucius had to drag his eyes away from her to respond to his mother, who was at his side speaking to him.

  “Lucius! Andronicus! You are just in time to share supper with us.”

  His mother’s lilting voice did much to relieve some of the stress he had been under since their argument over the selling of the villa. It would seem she held no grudge after all, at least for now, but the situation was far from resolved. She had been unmoved by any of his arguments over her safety here in Jerusalem, and though he knew as pater familias, head of the family, he didn’t need her permission to sell the villa or remove her to Rome, he didn’t want to cause the breach between them that would ensue if he did so. He had one other weapon at his disposal, his mother’s love for him, and he wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

  Smiling, Lucius bent to kiss her cheek. “That’s what we had hoped, Mother. Andronicus here is about to perish from lack of sustenance.”

  Andronicus acted as though he were about to melt away, pushing a hand through his dark brown hair and falling to his knees.

  Leah laughed, shaking her head in friendly exasperation.

  “You know you are always welcome here, Andronicus, with or without your tribune.”

  Andronicus clutched her hand from where he knelt and held it to his lips.

  “My lady, I will love you for eternity. You have surely saved my life!”

  Lucius grinned at Andronicus’s playacting. His bodyguard’s lean, toned body and rippling muscles gave lie to the statement, for there was not another man under his command that could match Andronicus in size and power save Lucius himself.

  “We were just about to have the meal brought in,” she told them. “Please, take a seat.”

  The reclining couches could hold three normal-sized people, but since there was enough to go around they could each have their own. Lucius unobtrusively moved to take his position on the couch next to Anna.

  She glanced up at him in surprise, quickly veiling her features, but not before he took note of the alarm in her eyes. His narrow-eyed gaze settled on her more firmly. Why was she so afraid of him? He had never threatened her in any way. In fact, he had been kindness itself. True, he was a Roman and she a Jew, but could it be something more elemental than that? Were the short breaths he could hear from fear, or something far different? He knew he should refrain from pursuing any such thought and just leave matters alone, but his ego wouldn’t allow it.

  “You have the most beautiful voice I have ever heard,” he told her, and watched the color suffuse her face. He added to his mental inventory that she was unused to compliments, which only charmed him more.

  “Thank you.”

  “The goddess Canens has certainly gifted you with such a golden voice.”

  Her soft brown eyes hardened to agate in an instant. “If my voice is a gift, it is a gift from Elohim, the Creator of the universe.”

  Surprised at her vehemence, it took him a moment to realize his offense. How could he have so forgotten that she was a Jew? Their refusal to believe in other gods had given them the reputation of being atheists and had set much of Rome against them. As for himself, since he didn’t believe in anything, he didn’t really care.

  “I meant no offense, I assure you. It was intended as a compliment.”

  She relaxed back against the couch she was reclining on, studying him warily, as though he were a cobra about to strike.

  Trying to make amends, he gave her his most persuasive smile. “Who taught you to play the lyre?”

  She glanced down at the instrument, her fingers gliding over it almost lovingly. “My mother gave me a lyre when I was small, but she died before she could teach me to play.”

  Her face saddened at some remembered thought. “I taught myself to play.”

  It didn’t take a prophet to realize that she would have done so during many lonely hours. He was glad that his mother had the instrument for her to use. Thinking to remove the sadness from her expression, he told her, “Perhaps you would sing again after the meal?”

  Her look of horror amused him. Problems be hanged, he was going to enjoy watching this flower open up under his tutelage.

  He settled back on his couch, reaching for the succulent pheasant on the tray on the table before him. Giving Anna his most compelling look, he handed her a piece of the fowl. She reluctantly took it from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

  Tapat filled his goblet with wine and Lucius thanked her, noting Andronicus’s watchful regard of the servant. She in turn ignored his bodyguard. Intriguing.

  They were halfway through the meal when his mother suddenly grabbed her chest, moaned and collapsed on her couch.

  Chapter 8

  Anna watched from her seat by the atrium’s pool as Lucius paced up and down like a caged lion, his hobnailed sandals tapping against the marble tiles in an unending, monotonous rhythm. Every few minutes, he went to the bottom of the stairway that led to the upper floor and stared upward. Shoving his dark hair back with a shaking hand, he would then resume his pacing.

  While Lucius had sent for the Roman doctor who tended to the troops, Anna had secretly sent Tapat and Michael to find Levi and bring him here. But, whereas the Roman doctor was close by at the Antonia, it would take some time for Levi to arrive.

  Phlegon was upstairs examining Leah now and he had asked that everyone leave the room to afford them privacy. Anna didn’t trust the physician, but she would give him the benefit of the doubt. He must surely know something about medicine, even if he didn’t know the true God who had created it. At least that was her very fervent hope.

  Ever since Leah’s collapse, Anna had sent up an unceasing petition for her recovery. How much time had passed she wasn’t certain, but it seemed like hours since that fateful moment.

  “Andronicus.”

  Anna started as Lucius’s firm voice interrupted the silent pall that had settled over the room.

  Andronicus stepped forward, his anxious gaze probing his superior. It had surprised Anna that he appeared to be as rattled as Lucius. It had also impressed her that he had refused to leave his side, his loyalty and friendship unquestionab
le.

  Lucius gripped his shoulder. “Go to the commander. Let him know what has happened. Tell him that I will be staying here for the foreseeable future.”

  Although Andronicus was not in his uniform, he nonetheless slammed his right fist against his chest in salutation. Nodding his head, he moved to leave but then stopped at the door. He turned back to Lucius.

  “You will let me know when you find out anything?”

  Their eyes met and a message passed between them that Anna couldn’t hope to interpret.

  “I will,” Lucius agreed.

  Andronicus’s lips pressed together, his face wreathed in silent commiseration. He glanced briefly at Anna and then exited.

  Anna caught Lucius’s look and gave him a tentative smile. She would like nothing more right now than to go to him and wrap him in her arms and try to soothe that look of agony from his face. If only she could assure him that Leah was in Elohim’s hands, but even Leah hesitated to talk about the one true God around her son. Yet, surely it was the very thing that would give him the most comfort at this time.

  He came and sat next to her on the edge of the atrium’s pool. He placed his elbows against his bent knees and shoved his palms back through his hair, hiding his face from her view. He said nothing, his anguish communicated by the depth of his silence.

  Even if he were a believer, Anna wouldn’t know what to say to assuage his fear and grief. Instead, she broke several Jewish laws by placing her hand against his back in quiet sympathy. He turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes, and something happened in that moment that she could never afterward explain. The only way to describe it would be to say that it was a convergence of their destinies, some instinct that told her that from this moment on, their lives would be forever connected in some way. The odd feeling of insight left her feeling more confused than ever.

  She quickly removed her hand, pulling her eyes away from his. Before either one could speak, the door to his mother’s room opened. Lucius was on his feet in an instant, striding to the stairs and taking them two at a time.

  Anna heard him ask after his mother, but then their voices became too low to hear anything further. She rose to her feet, intent on finding out Leah’s condition, but the two men went inside the bedroom and shut the door firmly behind them.

  Left to her own devices, Anna went into the triclinium to help clear the room of the meal that had been abandoned so hurriedly, but the servants, under Magog’s supervision, had already put the room to rights. Not knowing what else to do, she returned to the atrium to await further news.

  The time dragged unendingly. Restless, Anna got up and went into the peristyle, hoping some of the peace that she normally felt while in the outdoor garden would settle her raw nerves.

  The garden was alive with spring and the beauty that the spring rains always brought. Bougainvillea vines spread their bright pink blossoms everywhere, as did the flowering fruit trees. The scent of acacia blossoms filled the air, while a pair of doves cooed to each other from the top of a flowering myrtle tree. Life seemed to be flourishing everywhere, except in the room upstairs.

  Anna sat down on the bench near the fountain in the center of the peristyle. The water spraying from the mouths of the two twining stone fish gave a soothing cadence that never failed to calm her. Even now she felt herself relax enough to allow her to pray for God’s will to be done.

  It was a hard thing to do. Everything in her wanted to storm at Elohim to spare Leah’s life. She had grown to love the woman as though she were her own mother. If her heart was being torn apart at the thought of her death, what must it be like for her only son?

  “Anna?”

  Anna jumped, startled by Lucius’s sudden appearance. So deep in thought and prayer had she been, she had not even heard him enter the garden. She rose quickly to her feet, almost afraid to ask.

  “Your mother?”

  “Still alive, but barely.”

  His voice was close to desperation.

  “Is there anything that I can do?”

  He stared at her unblinkingly and she grew uncomfortable under his regard.

  “How do I reach this God of yours? What do I have to do to get Him to let my mother live?”

  Anna didn’t know whether to be appalled or delighted. The fact that he didn’t deny the existence of the true God gave her hope, but how was she to put into plain words Elohim’s great love when his pagan mind was used to demanding sacrifices? She felt decidedly inadequate to explain such things to him.

  “You can’t bargain with God,” she told him quietly.

  The anger that seemed always so close to the surface sparked in his eyes. Jerking a flower from the bush beside him, he crushed it in his fist.

  “Why would your God do this to her when she loves and serves Him? What kind of Father is that?”

  Anna wanted to turn away from his accusing stare, but she was caught by the apprehension in his face. This, then, was the major crux of the problem. Lucius was seeing God through the eyes of an angry child who had been betrayed by his own earthly father. How was she to explain God’s purpose to him when he couldn’t see past his own pain? Her empathetic observance came from her own experience with a similar pain.

  “Every moment of every life is a strand in the tapestry of God’s design,” she told him softly. “Everything He does works for the good of those who love Him and have been called according to His purpose. He is God, Lucius, not just our heavenly Father.”

  Magog interrupted them before Lucius could say something vitriolic that she was sure he would regret later.

  “Master, your grandfather is here.”

  Anna noted the rapid rising and falling of Lucius’s chest hinting at his agitation. His eyes glittered with pain and rage.

  “If your God takes my mother, I promise you, I will make war on Him myself.”

  He strode from the room, leaving Anna frozen with a terrifying fear for him.

  Lucius watched Levi ministering to Leah with a wary eye and no little amount of trepidation. The man had come unleashed on Lucius when he had seen the bowl of leeches gorged with Leah’s blood. For an old man, he hadn’t lost any of his ability to speak forcefully.

  Lucius’s ears were still ringing with words about life being in the blood and sucking the life out of a person, and something to do with heathen ignorance. Funny how each physician considered the other a heathen.

  Anna entered the room, and Lucius immediately felt her presence with every fiber of his being. Their eyes met briefly before she turned hurriedly away. He knew that he had hurt her with his last statement, but he had meant every word. He had mentally shaken his fist at her God.

  Anna handed Levi the brew that had been concocted in the kitchen from the supplies Levi had brought with him. Lucius stepped forward, intent on intervening, but then hesitated. He was willing to try anything at this point if it would help his mother.

  “What did your Roman physician tell you?” Levi asked absently as he stirred the contents of the cup.

  Lucius glanced at Levi skeptically, reluctant to offer the other physician’s explanation. If the leeches had set the man off, he was fairly certain that Phlegon’s words would bring forth an acerbic tirade without end.

  “He said the gods were against her.”

  Levi turned to him angrily, his mouth open to deliver a telling lecture. Lucius held up his palms. “I don’t believe it, either.” But neither did he hold their Jewish God unaccountable, if there was such a god. He had been on too many campaigns and seen too many gods to trust in any one, despite his mother’s admonitions to the contrary during his childhood years.

  With a final glare in Lucius’s direction, Levi relaxed back on the stool and started spooning some of the contents of the bowl into Leah’s mouth, using his fingers to gently massage her neck to make her swallow. One side
of her mouth refused to move, as did one side of her body, but her eyes shot sparks of fire. Her words came out slurred but understandable.

  “Don’ tak ’bout me like em na her.”

  Levi had the audacity to grin at her. “I’m not certain if the mandragora that heathen gave you is working, or if your lack of speech is due to your illness, or both, but it’s nice to see that you haven’t lost your spirit.”

  Lucius grew irritated at his attempt at levity. “What do you say is wrong with her?”

  Levi became solemn. “From the symptoms I have noticed over the last few weeks, I would say it has something to do with her heart. But unlike your Roman physicians, Jews do not believe in vivisection, nor desecrating a body, so our knowledge is not as...precise as yours. I can only speculate from having witnessed such symptoms before.”

  Lucius glanced from him to his mother. “What was that concoction you just gave her for?”

  Gathering up his supplies, Levi handed them to Anna before answering.

  “It’s a willow bark tea. For some reason, it seems to lessen the pain and many of the symptoms in such cases. The mandragora will put her to sleep, but the willow bark will lessen the severity of the attack.”

  That, at least, was somewhat reassuring. “Will she be all right?”

  Levi looked at Lucius, his countenance grim, then he turned and stared hard into Leah’s eyes. “You knew, didn’t you?”

  It was a moment before Leah nodded.

  Lucius glared from one to the other. “Knew what?”

  “That it’s only a matter of time,” Levi answered. The smile he gave his daughter was a sad one. “It’s why you wanted me to come, isn’t it?”

  Again, Leah nodded. She grasped Anna’s hand with the hand that was unaffected by the paralysis. The look she gave her father was fierce. “From God.”