She did not wait long.
“Mistress?”
Leah wrenched herself around at the realization she was the one being addressed. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. Yes?”
“The prelate and his wife are waiting to see you now.”
Leah followed the maidservant down a hall that connected the servants’ quarters to the formal chambers. Together they passed through the main doors, upon which everything changed. On one side was a floor of untreated stone, the walls bare—like her life to this point. On this side, she walked across mosaic tile, down a hallway adorned with a sweeping mural.
They entered the smallest of the palace’s three connected courtyards. Pilate’s two personal servants, one of whom was always a seasoned warrior, stood in the shadows, where they remained silent but within immediate summons. The other, the governor’s secretary, was a reedy middle-aged man with two blank slates, a writing instrument, and a rather tense manner. Both servants watched her pass. Leah knew the secretary recognized her gown as Procula’s from the way his eyes narrowed.
Her mistress was seated on a backless chair next to her husband’s throne. A faint cacophony of voices rose from the farthest courtyard. When the prelate was in residence, once each week the citizens of Judaea Province were allowed to request an audience. Pilate was dressed as an officer of Rome’s legions. He intended to remind those who appeared before him that his word carried the weight of Rome’s army. His expression matched his dress, stern and intimidating.
Leah bowed low as a woman might before the emperor himself, her forehead nearly touching her knees. She did not rise until she heard him say, “This woman remains a servant in my household, does she not?”
“Indeed, my lord,” Procula answered.
“Then why does she come before me dressed as a free woman?”
Procula remained calm. “I sought to impress you, my lord, with her bearing and stature. She is indeed my husband’s niece.”
“The only thing that will impress me is an irrefutable report on these troublemakers,” Pilate growled, but his demeanor eased somewhat. He called for his secretary. When the anxious little man stepped forward, Pilate ordered, “Bring in another chair.”
Hastily the secretary tumbled his armload of petitions and writing instruments on a table and complied. Pilate waved an impatient hand at Leah. “Sit.”
Nervously Leah did as she was ordered. She had never before seated herself in the prelate’s presence. But Pilate was in such a mood that to deny any whim would be testing fate.
“Your associations with the prophet’s followers, they always take place in the same place?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Describe it to me.”
Swiftly Leah described the courtyard and the interconnected rooms beyond the ancient doors, its large upstairs chamber.
“Are there strongrooms or weapons?”
“None that I have seen, sire. And none of the people go about armed.”
“How did they come to occupy this place?”
When Leah hesitated, Procula prompted, “It is important that the prelate know exactly what you have learned.”
Leah replied, “The day before the festival they call Passover, the prophet’s disciples entered Jerusalem. They were told by him—by Jesus—that they would find a man, and they were to tell him that their master required his rooms. They did as they were told.”
She waited.
Pilate’s frown was fearsome. “These disciples enter the city the day before the largest Judaean festival. They find a house with a private courtyard and upper chambers where they are allowed to remain for the entire festival season?”
“That is what they said, my lord.” She paused for breath and for courage. “And it seems they had never even met this man before.”
“Are they feeding you myths to confuse me?”
“I do not think so, sire.” Leah waited another moment, then added, “To be perfectly frank, my lord, I do not believe they have lied to me about anything.”
Pilate’s chair creaked a warning as he abruptly sat forward.
“Then tell me this: Do they plan a revolt against Rome?”
“I do not know. I think—”
He banged the chair arm with one fist, his gold armband cracking against the metal like a whip. “I don’t want to hear what you think. I want to know what they are saying! Speak!”
“Sire, they talk of a kingdom.” Leah concentrated on keeping her voice even in spite of the trembling in the rest of her body. “They discuss this continually. They speak of a free Judaea, but they call it by a different name.” Leah saw his expression darken further and forced herself to remain at attention.
“Israel.” Pilate ground out the name.
“Yes, sire. They speak of an Israel ruled by God himself.”
“They say the Judaean God is to come down from on high and rule this dismal place?”
“Sire, they claim that their God has already arrived.”
There. It was said. The lingering thought, the one that whispered over and over to her in the sleepless hours. She forced her gaze to remain steady on the man’s face—this man who held the power of life and death over her.
To Leah’s great surprise, Procula nodded with her entire upper body. Her slow rocking caused her husband to turn and stare at her. Pilate asked her, “You understand this?”
“What I know,” Procula replied softly, “is my nights continue to be plagued by dreams of a man who has defied even death.”
“Your headaches are gone, yet these dreams remain?”
“Almost nightly.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No, nor I.”
Leah had never witnessed such a discussion between them before. Whatever conversations Pilate and Procula had, whatever counsel, whatever intimacy, was kept beyond sight or hearing of the entire household.
Pilate said, “I have noted you no longer offer daily gifts to the goddess.”
Like most women of power, Procula had a small alcove in her private chambers dedicated to the goddess Diana. Leah had not noticed this change in her mistress’s habits.
When his wife remained silent, Pilate asked, “Do you believe this man has come back from the dead?”
She met her husband’s gaze. “I wish I knew.”
“I could seal up the chambers where they are staying and expel these disciples from Jerusalem,” Pilate mused. “Better still, I could order the entire group crucified. How many of them are there?”
Leah’s lips trembled. “The rabbi’s appointed apostles number eleven, sire.”
“Hardly the makings of a revolutionary force,” Procula remarked.
Pilate demanded, “Are there many beyond this group?”
“So numerous I cannot name or even count, sire. They come and go, so I am not sure of the number. But . . .”
“Yes? Go on.”
“As I told you, I have seen no weapons, sire. Not one. In fact, all of them talk in words and a manner that are completely against the very concept of battles, of revolt. They speak of forgiveness. And hope. And love.”
Pilate sneered. “You are in love with one of these disciples, perhaps?”
“I have never met one, sire.”
“What, never? How then do you know what they are thinking?”
“Though the men keep themselves apart, some of the women have accepted me. One of them, Mary Magdalene, has spoken quite openly with me. And Nedra, a servant in Herod’s household. Occasionally two sisters named Mary and Martha. And a few younger women. All I know of the disciples, the leaders of the group, is hearsay. Though everything I have witnessed suggests the women have spoken the truth to me.”
Pilate rubbed his chin, back and forth. “I am hearing rumors. Claims that this Jesus has been seen by others. Since the crucifixion, by Jupiter!” Pilate waved an impatient hand. “All the impossible nonsense you would expect of these Judaeans.”
Procula asked, “Is there anything else you can tell us
, Leah?”
There was, though it no doubt would cost her dearly to say it. She let out a slow breath. “These followers are certain Jesus has risen from the dead. What they argue over now is whether he is a prophet or . . . or something else.”
Pilate watched her intently. “These Judaeans will argue over their religion endlessly.”
Leah took a breath. “I am hearing a new word—at least to me—rather often. Some are calling him Messiah. But others disagree. According to their holy writings, if he is the Messiah he must deliver to them the kingdom.”
Pilate’s eyes seemed powerful enough to brand her skin. “So they are planning an attack?”
“As I said, sire, I have listened carefully, and I hear nothing like that. They seem to expect this Jesus to deliver the kingdom by himself. I sense that words are very important to them. They are precise when they speak of these spiritual terms. The word they use about Israel is redeem. The Messiah will redeem Israel.”
Pilate snorted. “The prophet told me himself that his kingdom was not of this world. Your report is as bewildering as that of your betrothed.”
Procula murmured, “Which suggests they might be speaking the truth.”
“What? A man was scourged and then crucified. His side was pierced by a soldier’s spear. He died and was entombed. And now he has risen from the dead and is threatening the might of Rome?” Pilate’s laugh was savage. “A dozen new crucifixes will end this once and for all.”
Procula sat straight in her backless chair. “I would counsel you to have nothing more to do with this group, my lord.”
Even Pilate’s most trusted advisors knew when to remain silent. Yet Pilate did not lash out at his wife, as Leah might have expected. He simply stared at her.
“You remember my first dream and our discussion that day—what I said to you then.”
“I did what I could. I washed my hands of the entire affair.”
“Just as you should now.”
“But if they are threatening revolution . . .”
“You have heard two reports, that from the centurion and now from your niece. She has been in your household for three years. In all that time, have you once known her to speak an untruth?” Procula gave her husband a chance to counter, then turned to Leah and said, “What now?”
“Mistress, I was invited by the one known as Martha to accompany her to Bethany, a village a short walk from here.”
“I know of it,” Pilate said dismissively. “It is a place of poverty and ne’er-do-wells.”
“She wishes for me to spend a Sabbath with her and friends. They want me to remain there for a few days longer, so that we can study together. She says another man will join us, someone named Cleopas, who met Jesus along a road—”
Pilate leaned forward, cutting off her remarks. “You are to go, and you are to return and report everything you hear and see to my wife. Perhaps we will finally learn something of importance, something that can be proved.”
Procula asked her husband, “You will not act against the disciples?”
“I will stay my hand for the moment. But I want this matter resolved.” His eyes burned into Leah’s. “Either you and the centurion find answers that make sense, or I will end this once and for all.”
Thus it was that Leah found herself once again on her way to the compound of the prophet’s followers. Today, however, Leah felt anticipation rather than her previous dread. Gradually she was sensing a genuine kinship with the women she met there. It was the closest thing to family that Leah had known for several years. Procula had insisted she take more gold, and the coins jingled softly. Clearly Procula thought she might bribe her way into the inner circle. Leah was certain this was utterly impossible. Perhaps she could stop at the market and purchase something for the day’s cooking pot. She had shared many a meal and had so far contributed nothing. In light of her assignment, surely Procula’s coins could be put to good use.
In spite of the storm clouds, the morning felt hot and smothering. Her step quickened as she thought ahead to time spent with these women. She learned so much from them. They all seemed to have a special sensitivity toward spiritual matters, even the younger ones such as Abigail and Hannah. Leah longed to understand their faith in the face of such immense uncertainties, their trust in God, despite those, like Pilate and Herod, who saw them as great a threat as their crucified leader.
Gradually Martha had become Leah’s mentor. In some unexplained way they were so alike. But it was Abigail, with her winsome ways and youthful enthusiasm, who drew Leah most of all. Though the lovely young woman spent her days bent over tubs of soiled clothing, Abigail remained joyous. Leah could no more understand her than she could ever hope to be like her. But it was so inspiring to be in her presence for at least part of the day.
After stopping at the market, Leah arrived at the compound and found Abigail at the washtubs, pouring water over garments strewn across stones. Leah quietly watched as her new friend pounded the clothing to cleanse away the ground-in dirt, then doused them in water before twisting and thumping each piece. It was backbreaking toil. Leah saw the sweat-covered brow, the long tapered fingers dipping again and again into the water. It was easy to imagine the beautiful girl residing in some luxurious palace. She did not belong here, surrounded by muddy ground and beating soil from roughly made garments.
Abigail must have sensed a presence and glanced up. When she saw Leah, she flashed a smile, then quickly adopted an exaggerated grimace. “I have only a few more thousand to do. I will be with you shortly.”
She shook the water from her hands, pushed aside her long dark braid, and straightened, one hand on her back. She groaned and pretended to limp her way out of the mud that had formed around the rocks where she worked.
“Shall I bring you a drink from the well?” Leah offered, laughing in spite of herself.
“I will come with you. It is past time for a rest.” Abigail’s eyes shifted to the darkening skies. “I was hurrying to beat the storm. But I don’t think I will make it.”
Leah nodded at the laundered garments stretched out on the rocks to dry in the sun. “Can’t you bring the wash into the courtyard and string it about on the walls? I can help you.”
“The rain will rinse them further. They will dry when the sun shines again. It doesn’t take very long in this heat.”
They walked together to the well, and Leah drew the water to fill the drinking cup. When they both were refreshed, they moved to a bench in a shaded area and settled against the stone wall.
“I was hoping you’d be able to come today,” said Abigail.
“I’ve had other duties.”
“So what do you do at the palace?”
“I mostly was maid to Pilate’s wife, Procula. The mistress is now served by a new maid, but I still assist wherever I am needed. I often take her the first meal of the day. I help in the kitchen. I used to go to the market every morning.”
“It sounds as if you have had many duties.”
“I’m not as busy as you with your washtubs. And I do not have nearly the responsibilities I had . . . until recently. Some days I feel quite useless. Especially seeing how hard you labor.”
“Oh, I don’t mind the work. Someone has to do it—and they have all been so good to me.”
“Have . . . have you no family?”
Abigail’s eyes held an unusual shadow. “Not any longer. Three years ago, I lost my entire family.” Her eyes filled with tears.
“I am so sorry,” Leah said, reaching out a hand.
“Thanks to the followers . . . the goodness of our Lord, I have a place to serve and to sleep.” Abigail made a visible effort to push aside her sorrow. “And what about you? Have you always been with the prelate? We do not know much about his staff.”
“No, I have been with his household for coming on three years.” Leah had no desire to say more about her own background.
“I’m sure you serve well. That was one of the lessons our Lord taught us. ‘Servan
ts, serve well your masters. For this is right. And in so doing, you do it as to the Lord.’ ”
“You knew him? The prophet?”
Abigail’s eyes still shone with unshed tears. “I was one of those he healed,” she said simply. “A friend brought me to hear him speak. Afterward we got close enough that he saw me. . . . He had the kindest eyes I have ever seen. I never thought such joy or peace would have been mine to claim, especially after my loss. The healing of my heart is a miracle I live with every day.”
Leah thought of the prelate’s command to obtain helpful information, not just observations and guesses. It didn’t seem right to pry, but her master was getting more and more impatient. “Will you tell me about what happened?”
Abigail nodded. “Our village is three valleys west of here. After my family died, I was taken in by a local shepherd and his family. They cared for me well enough, but I had lost the will to live. Months passed, but my sorrow remained a burden that never left me. I did not eat, I rarely left my bed. And then one day they heard the Lord was coming to Jerusalem. They put me on their own donkey and brought me here. He was healing people outside the Temple. I was one that he touched.”
She hesitated. Leah wondered if that was the end of the story.
“I was taken in by believers here in the city. I worked in their household.” Her voice lowered. “Then they crucified our Lord. Our world changed.”
Another silence. Leah heard thunder rumble in the distance. The air smelled of rain.
Abigail seemed oblivious to the approaching storm. “I still see the shepherd family who took me in, but I’m happy here. It’s the most content I have been since . . . since I lost my family.”
She shared with Leah a most radiant smile and added, “And now we wait.”
Leah’s hidden motives caused her to flush. “And just what are you waiting for?”
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