We skirt a puddle. “I know of him, enough to approve. He is the son of a senator. My father speaks well of him. It surprises me more to find you here. Why do you come to this market instead of the one in the square?”
“Avram prefers it. He likes to talk to his friends from Jerusalem when they pass through.” I move aside to let a woman and her children by and nearly brush against him again. The hand he steadied me with rests on my back.
“Did he speak with them today?”
We round a corner and the scent of warm bread rises from a stall. “Yes.”
“What did they talk about?” His tone is innocent, but the question is not.
I stop in the middle of the road, not far from home. “Why do you ask?”
“Why don’t you want to tell me?”
Avram limps past us and stands at the gate. Pilate considers me with a hint of irritation. I shift my armload and ask, “Are any of the rumors true?”
“That depends on the source and the rumor.”
“Do you persecute the Jews?”
“No more than they deserve.”
“Have you overseen brutal executions for Sejanus?”
Pilate’s blue eyes darken. “Claudia, this is Rome. There is no such thing as a kind execution! It is my responsibility to preside over them. I’m the Captain of the Guard, and that’s what the Praetorians do, we investigate, arrest, interrogate, and execute if they’re found guilty.”
Repressing a shudder, I ask, “Do you enjoy it?”
“Is that what they say?” Emotion surfaces in his face, either hurt or anger.
Crossing the courtyard, Father catches sight of us and opens the gate.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It doesn’t deserve an answer!”
Stepping away from him, I let Father intrude. “Lucius, it’s too long since we’ve seen you! Come in!”
Pilate turns to him with a smile. “I’d like to, but I can’t. I saw your daughter in the marketplace and wanted to see her home.”
“Considering what happened last time, I don’t blame you.” Father looks between us with dawning suspicion. “Can’t you stay for supper?”
Handing me the rest of my packages, Pilate shakes his head. “I’m afraid not, I must report to Sejanus. He has me on duty tonight.”
“But you will come to the wedding,” presses Father eagerly.
Glancing at me, Pilate says, “I’ll try. Thank you for the invitation.”
Father puts an arm around me as we walk home. “Did you argue with him?”
“I might have.”
He groans. “Oh, Claudia…”
“Lucilla told me he dragged a man through the streets behind his horse!”
We reach the side door and Libi takes the packages from me. Father stops me from entering. “He’s a Praetorian Guard!”
“That doesn’t mean he has to be cruel!”
Resting his hand on mine, he says, “Life can be cruel. Sometimes men must be too to exist in it. You have not seen the horrors of the world. I hope you never will. Pilate has. He has been to war. You must trust him to have good judgment.”
“You don’t trust him! You’re afraid he’s like his father!”
Surprise crosses his face. “You weren’t supposed to hear that conversation.”
“I’m not supposed to hear a lot of things.” I drop onto the step and put my face in my hands.
Father eases down beside me, winded from the short walk. “I may fear a likeness but I hope against it. I trust him to do what is right.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
Calloused fingers grip my hand. “That is his choice to make.”
I lean my head against his shoulder and we watch the sun set. Father says no more of it. Dreams torment me in my sleep, of wandering figures and lit torches. I wake when Lucilla shakes me. The light from her lamp burns my eyes. “Claudia, get up! Caesar Augustus is dead!”
Stumbling after her into the hall, I lean against Libi as our father informs us of the news. His grim expression makes him look older than usual. The death of an emperor brings some of the legions back to Rome. Centurions return in the next few days. Crowds of cheering subjects line the streets, throwing flower petals and waving silk scarves. Each day we go out to the gate and watch them pass, only to be disappointed.
Father says, “Quintus is in the garrison in Jerusalem. He won’t return.”
This saddens Mother and she responds by working us hard. The night before Lucilla’s wedding, I collapse in bed with aching feet and tired hands. Sleep descends and with it, a dream.
I stand in a field with Jacob behind me, holding a sword. Blood drips from the end of it into the raw earth. The ground ripples with wheat. As I lift my hands, I find them coated with blood.
What have you done? I ask.
He smears it on my face. What have you done?
Stumbling back from him, I fall over a corpse. I scream, and wake to find my family standing over me. Sweat soaks the bedclothes. Father takes my shoulders in his broad, worn hands. “Claudia, we couldn’t wake you… are you all right?”
I look past him to the doorway, to Jacob and whisper hoarsely, “What have you done?”
The others exchange glances. Father forces me to look at him. “What did you see?”
“Death,” I answer.
Jacob glances at his father and disappears into the hall. I push aside my covers and start after him, but Father stops me. “You must rest! Servia, send the others to bed. There’s nothing to see.”
Mother claps her hands and the faces disperse. They shut the door behind them and in a small voice, Lucilla asks, “Did you dream of me?”
“No, it wasn’t about you.”
Relief escapes her in a sigh and she turns over. Soft breathing fills the air. I slip out of bed to walk to the family temple. Lighting a candle, I kneel and pray, “Oh, ancestors, take these dreams from me.”
The little statues do not answer me.
I have not much time to consider my dream as Mother busies me with errands. Twilight approaches when she retires to dress Lucilla in her wedding garments. I go to fetch water from the well and see Jacob cross the courtyard under a cloak. He fumbles at the gate. Dropping the bucket, I call his name and he turns rapidly, startled. The setting sun casts a long shadow into the arbor.
“I know what you’re doing!” I join him at the gate.
“What?”
Voices carry to us as servants arrange pillows in the courtyard. Glancing at them, I lower my voice. “I saw you in my dream. Don’t do it.”
“What did you see in your dream?”
Shivers caress my spine. “I saw blood on your hands and mine.”
“Then you know nothing.” He pulls open the gate.
I slam it shut again. “I know you hate the Romans! I know you hate Sejanus! Whatever you intend to do, do you think they won’t kill us if you’re caught?”
“I’ll do what I must to protect Judea.”
Pressing against the gate, I say, “And I’ll do what I must to protect my family!”
He shoves me aside and I slap him across the face. Jacob backhands me, sending me into the dirt.
Yanking open the gate, he vanishes into the darkness.
Chapter Four
I feel sick as I wait for something to happen—for centurions to storm our gates, for blood to spill into the street, for an explanation for my dream. It is hard to applaud with the others, to dance and drink wine as if nothing is happening. I slip away to sit in the kitchen. Music drifts in from the courtyard. My hands shake as I pour a cup of water and drink from it. My neck tingles.
A figure darts past the window and I race to open the door. Jacob stumbles in, his tunic covered in blood. It seeps between his fingers, clasped against his breast. He staggers into a chair. Through clenched teeth, he says, “Pilate saw me.”
Voices carry in the hall. Peering out, I see two shadows merge into one, lips locked as they stumble into the next room. I shut the
door and hurry to Jacob.
“I should let you bleed to death,” I hiss.
He glares at me.
Ransacking the shelves, I find strips of linen. “What happened?”
“It’s better that you don’t know.”
I cross my arms and glare at him. “Tell me or I won’t help you.”
“We tried to kill Sejanus in the forum but met too many guards.”
Terror grips me. “Was Pilate with him?”
“Yes. He dragged me off Sejanus. How I got away, I don’t know.”
Scowling, I splash wine on his knife wound and his fist slams into the table. “It serves you right,” I tell him. “You may have killed us all!”
“I doubt that. Pilate wants you in his bed, not in a prison cell, although he’d probably take you either way.” Jacob flinches as I tighten the bandage with an extra savage yank. His torn tunic lies on the floor at our feet. He gathers it up. “Burn it if you can, if not hide it.”
He limps to the back door and peers out into the garden.
“What about your family?”
There is a crash at the gates. Fear grips me.
Jacob says, “Tell them nothing. I’ll send word if I can once it’s safe.”
He melts into the darkness. Clutching the tunic to my chest, I slip into the garden, avoiding the soldiers entering the courtyard. My breath catches in my throat as I see Pilate dismount and follow them inside. The music stops. I hide behind the columns and watch, my heart pounding.
Father rises from his chair, his delight at seeing Pilate changing into concern. Our guests huddle together in the center of the space. Motioning his men onward, Pilate says, “No one leaves the grounds. Search every room and outbuilding and bring all the servants here. Don’t harm anyone unless they try to escape.”
Praetorians flood the house and Father steps nearer. “Lucius, what is it?”
“You’ll know soon enough. I must speak to Avram.”
Heart pounding, I crawl to the well. Careful not to let the light fall across me, I shove Jacob’s linens into the bucket, pile stones on top, and lower it. I hear furniture tip over and ornaments shatter. The soldiers shout to one another. Taking a deep breath and wiping my hands on the grass, I cross to the other side of the courtyard and enter behind my sisters.
Pilate yanks me behind the nearest column. “Where were you?”
I jerk my arm free of his hand. “Why?”
“You know why.”
A bead of sweat slides down my back. I try not to look terrified. Servants spill out of the house, Praetorians on their heels. Most of them are frightened. Libi joins the others, wide-eyed. I start toward her and Pilate pulls me back. “Where is he? Tell me and we’ll have no reason to stay.”
I feel cold.
He lifts his hands, streaked with blood. He leans closer and his nearness sends a tremor up my spine. “Claudia, where is Jacob?”
Searching his angry, desperate gaze, I whisper, “I don’t know.”
Loud steps bring one of the guards. “There’s no one hiding in the house or outbuildings, and we’ve gathered everyone here.”
Frightened faces surround us, the merriment gone from the occasion. Pilate studies me with suspicion and I avoid his gaze, hoping my guilt is not obvious. “The guests may go. The servants can wait in the main hall. The family will enter their rooms and stay there until I say otherwise. Procula, come with me.”
He pushes me toward the others. Father accompanies him indoors. Our guests, Lucilla and her husband among them, slip into the street, grateful to escape. The rest of us retreat to our mother’s room. I watch as our servants enter our father’s study and leave when he is finished with them. Neither our father nor Avram emerges. One of the guards brings Libi and she sends me a frightened look before disappearing from view. My hands clench into fists. I sit surrounded by the ruins of our furniture, the floor littered with broken pottery.
“What happens if we’re arrested?” Thais asks.
Mother is surprisingly calm, her hand at her throat. “We’ve done nothing wrong. We won’t be arrested.”
I turn my face away rather than laugh. “This is Rome. Guilt doesn’t matter.”
Footsteps ring in the hall and a guard enters through the far door. “Pilate wants to see the girl.”
The others look at me in concern and my hands shake as I smooth my tunic and follow him along the hall. Scrolls cover the floor in the study. Father sits in a chair with Avram at his side. Libi looks up at me from the corner, in tears. Pilate stands behind the desk. I approach tentatively, my heart racing. Father looks old in the lamplight, his face wreathed in wrinkles.
“Claudia, tell me what you know,” Pilate insists.
I look surprised. “What do you mean?”
“Have you seen Jacob tonight?”
My eyes drop to his bloodstained hands. “Is someone injured?”
Father’s window overlooks the garden, where Pilate’s soldiers search near the well. One leans out to catch the rope. Panic rises in me. Pilate steps into my line of vision, forcing me to look up at him.
“She knows nothing,” says Father.
“Tonight, Jacob and a dozen other men tried to murder Sejanus in the forum.”
Sweat coats my palms as the soldier pulls up the bucket. I lift my chin. “What does that have to do with me?”
His eyes search mine. “Did you help him?”
“Do you think I helped him? Do you think I would turn my back on Rome?”
The bucket nears the top of the well. Pilate leans against the desk. “I think you’re loyal and would do anything to protect the people you love.”
“We have that in common, don’t we?”
Lights flicker in the darkness. Pilate says, “I will find him.”
“Good.”
Silence lurks in the corners. Pilate motions to the others. “Avram…” The old man steps forward wearily. My heart drops and I clench my fists. “I have every right to arrest you, but out of respect for your loyalty to Procula and your long service in the house, I won’t. The same courtesy won’t be extended to your son when we find him.”
My eyes close and I breathe again.
“Thank you.”
Pilate motions to the guard and leaves the room. The bucket tips into the well as his men respond to his reappearance. I sigh with relief as they mount and ride out onto the road. Behind us, the door opens and Mother appears. “Procula, I thought…”
He takes her hand and smiles. “It was a misunderstanding, don’t worry.”
Thais joins me as we return to our room. “What happened?”
I feel like I want to faint. “I’ll tell you later. Libi, please send a servant to Lucilla and her husband. Make sure they know we’re all right.”
Pale-faced, she nods and hurries away. I enter our room and stop in dismay at the mess. Thais retrieves one of her favorite tunics from the floor. “Remind me to kick Pilate the next time I see him.”
“It’s a small price to pay for our freedom,” I answer.
Sinking onto my bed, I finger the torn netting and try to stop shaking. Mother enters. “I want you to sleep for awhile and then we’ll put all to rights. Thais, you can oversee the main rooms. Claudia, see to the courtyard and the garden.”
“Did they break anything important?” I ask.
Pausing in the doorway, she says, “Better broken things than broken limbs.”
At nightfall, I go to the well, draw up the bloodstained tunic, take it into the vineyard and bury it. No one sees me and a fortnight passes without word. It is time to start brewing the wine in barrels. Mother is too busy to bother with household affairs and sends me to the fish market in her place. Even Libi relaxes as we peruse the stalls, a basket under each of our arms.
“Figs are a nice treat, don’t you agree?”
Examining them, I nod and she pays for some. I turn and bump into an older woman. Dark eyes flash at me under her hood. “Excuse me,” she says, but grips my hand. I look at her i
n surprise. In a low voice, she asks, “You’re Claudia of Procula’s house?”
I nod.
“Then I’m to give this to you. He’s safe.” She presses something into my fist and moves away as if nothing happened. I uncurl my fingers to reveal a Star of David. I close my hand but not before Libi sees it. Her gaze darts to mine and then focuses on someone behind me.
“Claudia…” she whispers.
Pilate approaches. My breath catches in my throat. “Give me your basket.” Dropping the star into mine, I hand it to her. She throws a fish on top of it as he crosses the dock.
“Fish and figs tonight, I see,” he says. His eyes are no longer hard, his easy grin returning as he looks at me.
I shift the basket to my other hip. “You should eat supper with us.”
“Considering the nature of my last visit, I think not.” He walks with me toward home. The wind blows through my hair.
I glance at him. “I understand why you did it; I’m just sorry you did.”
“And I’m sorry you lied to me.”
Fear tickles my spine and I look at him. Pilate stops, forcing me to as well. “You did it to protect those you love. I can respect that.”
Biting my lip, I ask, “What did you tell Sejanus?”
“There’s no reason to suspect anyone in your father’s house, least of all his faithful old servant.”
My hands tighten around the basket. “Thank you.”
“Claudia, I want to trust you but you make it difficult.”
People move around us and pass down the road. Libi waits for me at the gate. Pilate touches the side of my face, his fingers brushing my hair. I cannot meet his eyes and drop them. “You redeemed yourself in Father’s eyes.”
“I’m glad of it.”
Biting my lip, I say, “He’s not well, Lucius. He tries to hide it, but a specter haunts him. Don’t wait too long to see him.”
Weary feet carry me home. Libi joins me. “Is he angry?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell.”
Pulling open the gate, Libi says, “He likes you.”
“That may be, but I can never be his wife. He must marry well.”
She turns into my path. “Marrying you is marrying well. Claudia, you are a dream-seer. Do you have any idea how powerful it would make him, to marry someone who can predict the future? You’re worth ten senators’ daughters.” I stare at her. Stepping closer, she whispers, “You must marry him soon. Convince him of it. Don’t wait.”
I, Claudia Page 4