He arranges me on it and leaves the room. Libi soon enters and sits beside me, holding my hand as the physician examines me. When he is finished, I sit up and he smiles at me. “You are with child… about eight weeks along.”
“Is there any way to tell if it’s a boy?”
Rolling down his sleeve, he answers, “No! The gods will determine that.”
Libi beams at me as he leaves the room and slips out quietly when Pilate enters. He perches on the side of the bed. “So it isn’t seasickness, then?”
I laugh and throw my arms around him. “It’s a boy. I’m sure of it.”
“Since you are the seer, I’ll defer to you.” Pilate smiles and presses his lips to my forehead.
Clutching his hands, I ask, “Will you pray with me, this once?”
“That’s not my way, but I won’t stop you.”
Our ancestors frown at me from their carved niches in the temple. I pray for a healthy child and put out the usual fruits and meat.
Two months later, I wake to find the bed covered in blood. Libi responds to my screams, skidding to a stop as she stares at me, wide-eyed. The pain is unbearable as the tiny body leaves mine.
“Claudia, it isn’t your fault.” Pilate’s hand is on my shoulder as I stare at the sheet wrapped around our tiny son.
I pull away from him, emptiness in my heart.
Then whose fault is it?
Chapter Eight
Our ancestor gods line the altar in the temple. Their faces mock my pain. I strike the nearest one to the floor. It shatters and satisfaction fills my heart. I smack the next one against the altar; its head splits off and rolls away.
Pilate leaves the house and runs toward me. “Claudia!”
I throw the third against the column; it splinters and the pieces fall into the grass. My legs give out and I fall, sobs choking my throat. Strong arms wrap around me and I scream, “Why? Why did they take my son? I serve them! I pray to them! I endure their nightmares and still they give me nothing!”
He stops me from lunging at the pieces. I fight him but Pilate holds me close, crossing my arms over my chest. “Claudia, there’s no use in raging at gods. They can’t hear you; they’re only pieces of clay.”
Through gritted teeth, I ask, “Why don’t you believe in them?”
“Gods must prove their existence to me before I believe them. None have.” Smoothing the hair out of my eyes, his face softens. “Gods don’t exist. We create them for a higher power to believe in, to blame for our problems and thank in our prosperity. Gods require much and give nothing in return.”
Hatred rises in me for the temple. “I want it torn down.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do, I want it destroyed. Send me the stonemasons!”
Their expressions are as incredulous as that of our servants. Glancing at one another, one asks, “Won’t the gods be angry?”
“I don’t care if they’re angry. Tear it down.” I turn and enter the house.
Avram meets me in the hall, leaning on his staff. “Is this wise, Claudia?”
“Don’t you approve?”
Behind us, the stonemasons reluctantly get to work. Avram says, “Your husband is the governor of Crete. It doesn’t honor his subjects to remove their gods from his house.”
“Let them keep their gods, for they are no longer mine.”
Entering my room, I shut the door in his face. Pain causes me to double over and I feel my way to the bed. Libi soon enters with the physician, who touches my abdomen and frowns. “I want you to stay in bed.”
“Why? The child is dead.”
He scowls at me. “You may do yourself harm. Promise me.”
I nod and he packs up his things and leaves the room. Pilate’s soft voice halts him. I see his shadow on the far wall, through the open door. “Is she all right?”
Wind stirs the curtains as the temple pillar falls, crashing into the garden.
“Physically she’ll improve but there will be no further children.”
I shut my eyes and my hand drifts to my empty womb.
Pilate answers, “I thought as much.”
“Give her this if she goes into hysterics. I’ll return tomorrow.”
Footsteps fade away and Pilate enters. “You’re flushed.” Sadness is in his eyes, the same sadness that fills my empty soul.
I catch his hand. “I heard what he said.”
Another rumble shakes the garden. Pilate searches my face. “I don’t care whether or not we have children. I’ve only ever wanted you.” He sits with me until I fall asleep. Even before I enter it, I know the dream is dark. Before me is the temple ruin, the broken heads of the gods scattered across the tiles. I kick them aside and picking up a nearby sword, hack the altar to pieces. I only stop when blood trickles down my fingers.
Something strikes me. I flip through the air and slam into the column. It crashes down with me, before another blow sends me careening into the wall. Blood fills my mouth and I choke on it, looking up through the haze as a dark shape drags me up by my hair.
No one turns on the gods.
It has no face, no mouth, only darkness.
My head rebounds off the stone floor with an audible crack. I choke on blood and hear Pilate scream, “Avram!”
The blood is real.
He holds me over the edge of the bed as I spit it up. Shadows dance around us, the flames in the oil lamps flickering as a specter moves through the air. It hisses and coils as Avram hurries to my side. I feel his hands on my face but see nothing.
“What is it?” Pilate asks in horror. “What’s wrong with her eyes?”
My body convulses and he holds me down.
“Be gone!” shouts Avram. “Let her be, in the name of Jehovah!” He starts to recite Hebrew words.
I feel like my skin is on fire. Screams tear out of my throat as the devil fights to control me. I thrash and writhe under Pilate’s weight. Talons rake my insides and it rips out of my chest, evaporating in a puff of black smoke. Silence fills the house and the pressure on my arms lessens. I open my eyes and the room comes into focus. The bed curtains are shredded. Furniture is overturned. Blood coats my fingers and moistens my throat.
Pilate pulls me into his embrace. His voice breaks. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Footsteps bring a terrified-looking servant into the room. “They heard her screams all the way to the temple. The priest wants to know if he may enter.”
“Tell him he’s not to enter now, or ever again. There will be no more priests in this house.” Pilate cups my face in his hands and searches my eyes, worried. The servant backs out of the room.
I drop into the pillows and rasp, “The gods are angry with me.”
“That,” Avram says, “was no god.”
Pilate looks up at him. “Then what was it?”
“A demon, and if you don’t want it to come back, you’ll let me fortify against it. There must be no more seers, and no more gods.”
Tension lurks in the air and at last, Pilate nods.
Avram blesses our house and anoints it with oil. He removes all remnants of the temple and casts the pieces of our gods into the sea. Pilate relaxes his guard when it becomes obvious my dreams are gone. In time, even the hurt of my lost child lessens.
One afternoon many months later, Demetrius brings us a letter from Rome. Pilate reads it and sits down in his chair. “Tiberius wants us to return.”
“Is he displeased with you?” I lean over his shoulder to read it. The emperor is not displeased, but offers accommodations. I take the scroll. “He says you’ve done well here… so why is he sending for you?”
Pushing back his chair, Pilate says, “Judea.”
“They say he isn’t pleased with Governor Gratus,” Demetrius says.
Eying him, Pilate asks, “How would you like reassignment?”
“I would like that, Prefect.”
Pilate adds the scroll to the pile on his desk. “Good, you’re coming with us.�
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This voyage is without seasickness but my heart sinks as we return home. Fidelus’ home is no different from when we left but Hermina is three years older. Throwing her arms around me, she says, “Oh, how I’ve missed you!”
“No, you haven’t,” Pilate teases as we enter the house.
She winds her arm through his. “How much do you know?”
“It depends on the topic.”
Hermina leans against him. “Tiberius is leaving for Capri.”
“Does that mean Sejanus will control Rome?” I ask, exchanging a meaningful look with Pilate.
She drops onto a chaise and her nose wrinkles. “I suppose! There’s more than six thousand Praetorian Guards now.” Glancing into the hall, she leans toward us and lowers her voice. “Father hates him more than ever. He believes Sejanus is too powerful.”
“That may be an opinion shared by many,” Pilate answers.
His father soon appears and we rise to greet him. Fidelus is unchanged apart from more gray in his hair. Handing us an official scroll, he says, “Tiberius wants to see you tomorrow. The senate thinks he’ll offer you the prefecture of Judea.”
Moaning from her chaise, Hermina says, “You just got home!”
“That’s what happens with governors, Hermina… we come and go.” Pilate tugs on a lock of her hair and makes her smile.
Our drive through Rome the next morning fills me with delight. I had forgotten her winding streets and rising aqueducts. Our chariot passes under them as it carries us to Tiberius’ palace. Hermina knows her way around and leads us inside, past columns and inner rooms, guests and marble faces. She goes straight to the emperor and kneels at his feet.
“There you are, my pet! And you bring your brother, too!” Tiberius motions us forward, past the artist sculpting a bust of his face. “Hideous, isn’t it? It gives me pleasure to look on beauty again. You are lovely as ever, Claudia. My court is empty without you. But Hermina brings joy to us all.”
“That is one of her many talents, Caesar.”
He motions her aside and she joins Caligula at the banquet table. Tiberius rises to his feet. “You won’t mind if I borrow your husband, I hope?”
I shake my head and they walk onto the verandah, out of earshot. A familiar sense of dread passes over me and I sense Sejanus at my side. “I see you have put that quick tongue of yours to better use. Tiberius is very pleased with Pilate.”
“How is your tongue, Sejanus? Is it still hinged in the middle?”
Sejanus laughs and hands me a cup of wine. “I haven’t wagged it in your direction in some time. I may have even laid certain rumors to rest.”
“What rumors are those?”
His eyes darken. “That you had violent nightmares in Crete.”
The color drains from my face.
Circling me, he adds in a soft voice, “They say you’re a dream-seer.”
“Do you have spies in our household, Sejanus?”
He smirks at me. “I have spies everywhere.”
Feeling cold, I move away from the door. He follows. “Do you dream of Tiberius?”
“No.”
Sejanus searches my face. “Caligula?”
The boy brushes past us, his friends in tow. Hermina laughingly chases them into the hall. I shake my head. He frowns and pops a grape into his mouth. “I don’t like that boy, or the rest of his family, for that matter.”
“You may want to change that opinion, since he is the future emperor.”
Leaning against the table, Sejanus says, “Life can be unpredictable.”
“Not all of it.”
He stares at me. “That sounds like you know something.”
I put my cup on the table. “I do know something, about you. Oh, I haven’t dreamed your future, but now and again I have premonitions.”
“What do these premonitions tell you?”
Searching his face, I answer, “When you fall, you’ll fall hard, and you will fall, Sejanus. My only concern is that my husband doesn’t go down with you.”
We glare at one another and he moves away from me as Tiberius returns. Pilate rejoins me and I put my arm through his.
“My dear, I’ve made your husband my prefect in Judea.” Tiberius sinks into his throne and motions for the artist to continue.
I move nearer to him. “You honor us, Caesar.”
“Oh, come now, you’ll hate me for sending him away like that.”
Leaning against my husband, I say, “I’ll go with him.”
Tiberius stares at me and silence enters the room. “Judea is full of rebellious heathens. None of our Judean governors have taken their wives!”
“None of their wives are as determined as I am.” I smile at them all.
Faces soften toward me and even Tiberius grins. “I can see that. Sit with me.”
Servants quickly push a cushion at his feet and I settle on it. “So you summon us to Rome intending to leave for Capri? That is wicked of you, Caesar.”
“I see what Sejanus means about your tongue,” he laughs. “But in truth, I can’t wait to leave Rome. I have never cared for politics, much less senators. I will miss the company of Hermina, though. She’s an amusing child.”
Pilate drains his cup. “You may not have seen much of her anyway. I am considering sending her to stay with her aunt outside Rome. Her cousins beg me for the sight of her.”
My eyes shift to Caligula and Hermina at the far end of the room, their heads together. I sit with Tiberius until he wearies of company and retreats to his room. Rejoining Pilate, I say, “Sejanus isn’t the only one who dislikes Caligula.”
“Do you like him?”
Caligula plays with a lock of Hermina’s hair, his dark eyes fixed on her face. I shudder and Pilate guides me toward the door. “You must stand with me on this. Hermina thrives on his attention and she won’t like it.”
Following us up the stairs at home, Hermina shows me an emerald bracelet on her arm. “Caligula gave it to me. His sister was so jealous!”
I look at Pilate as we enter the main room and he says softly, “They say she and Caligula played certain games a long time after they should have stopped.”
My mouth drops open. “What kind of games?”
He puts his hand at the small of my back and says, “The incestuous kind.”
I say, “Hermina, you won’t be in Rome next week.”
She looks up from her bracelet. “What do you mean?”
“Our aunt wants you to visit her in Capri,” Pilate answers.
Her nose wrinkles. “Oh, don’t make me go. She’s such a bore!”
Pilate crosses the room. “I’ve told her you’ll come on the next boat.”
“Then you’ll have to write and tell her otherwise, because Caligula and I—”
Calmness enters his voice. “Caligula can curb his disappointment.”
Her mouth twists into an unpleasant expression as Pilate looks through the scrolls on the desk. “You don’t like him, do you?”
“I don’t know him.”
The wind stirs the lamp wicks. I lean against the nearest column.
“If you did, you’d find him a kind, thoughtful—”
He looks up. “Is it kind to beat his horses?”
Color fills her face. “No, but—”
“What about his treatment of his servants?”
Hotly, she retorts, “That’s different, the boy—”
“So he isn’t kind after all,” says Pilate.
Bitter silence fills the room.
Her voice is small. “Father won’t send me away.”
“I’ve spoken to him and he agrees with me. You leave in the morning.”
She glares at him and her hand tightens into a fist. Tears fill her eyes and she cries, “I hate you! I wish you’d never come home!” Knocking scrolls in all directions, she flounces into her room and slams the door.
Pilate shakes his head. “She can hate me all she likes. It won’t change my mind.”
Chapter Nine
Our first glimpse of Judea is the shoreline of Caesarea. The lights of a thousand windows glimmer against the setting sun. Our ship anchors in the bay and after surveying it with interest, Pilate enters our cabin. I approach Avram, standing at the bow. His hand grips his staff tightly as he stares at the city.
“Is it as you expected?”
His eyes shine in the torchlight. “Judea is the home of my ancestors, the Promised Land! I will see Jerusalem before I die, if God is merciful.”
“You can’t die yet, Avram!” I laugh, wrapping my arm around his. “I need you. I know nothing of Judean traditions. You must teach me.” The ship gently rocks in the waves and I stare at the great city, so different from Rome. I feel a shiver of dread and anticipation.
“I’ll do what I can,” promises Avram.
Libi steps out of their cabin. “Father, come in and eat.”
“What use is food, with such wonders before me?” Avram smiles and goes to her, leaving me alone on deck apart from the few sailors in the rigging. I linger awhile, breathing in the warm sea air, and go below. Supper awaits me in our cabin. I remove my cloak, the oil lamps swinging overhead warming my skin.
“What do the women of Judea wear?”
Pilate looks up from his scroll. “If you wear what they do, you’ll die of heat.”
“I’ll manage. I don’t want to insult them.” I pop a slice of fruit into my mouth and join him on the bed. “What are you reading?”
Pilate hands me the scroll. “They’re reports of the last governor’s arrival. I want to announce mine in a way that distinguishes between us. They need to know that I’m not Gratus.”
“How do you intend to do that?”
Tapping his fingers on the bed, he says, “I’ll think of something.”
“Did Gratus really fail so miserably in his task?”
He nods. “Judea resists our presence rather than accepts it. It can have its traditions, its Passover, its temple, but I will be its governor.” Noticing my worried expression, he smiles and touches my hand. “But never mind, it’s our last night on board ship. Let’s make it a pleasant one.”
I fall asleep in his arms and wake to my first glimpse of the magnificent city in daylight. Ships stretch along the coast, settling under the high walls. Libi helps me dress in a modest tunic and I tuck my hair under a silk covering. “Father sent some of your servants to the palace last night,” she says. “The house should be in readiness. You’ll go ashore first, and we’ll follow with your things.”
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