A Voice in the Wind

by Francine Rivers

  “I hope Atretes will listen long enough to let you explain that. You can’t toy with a man like this one, Julia.”

  “I moved in with Primus before Atretes was freed,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

  “That’s a lie, and you and I both know it. You moved in with Primus after the Ephesian games.”

  “Well, Atretes needn’t know that! It’s only a matter of one day’s difference.”

  “One day.” His eyes narrowed. “Did you know you were pregnant when you moved in with Primus?” He knew when she looked away that she had. “By all the gods, why did you move in here if you’re in love with Atretes?”

  “If I’d told you about him, you wouldn’t have allowed me to see him again and you know it.”

  “Possibly,” Marcus conceded. “But then you probably wouldn’t have given me any more say about that than you have with Primus. Listen to me,” he said, striving for control. “Right now, I’d approve anything over this unnatural arrangement you are in. I’ll take you to Atretes myself, right now if you wish it.”

  “No. I moved in with Primus for all the reasons I told you.”

  “Then you don’t love Atretes.”

  “I love him, but I could never marry him. Think about it, Marcus. He doesn’t think like a Roman. In fact, he hates Rome, hates it absolutely. What if we grew tired of one another, and I fell in love with someone else? Would he let me be happy? No. He’s a barbarian. They drown unfaithful wives in a bog. And what if he wanted to go back to Germania?” She gave a harsh laugh. “Can you see me living in a filthy longhouse, or whatever it is that barbarians live in? But he could make me go, couldn’t he? Just because I was his wife!”

  Marcus listened to her in disbelief. “Do you really think Atretes will come to you now and be your lover when you’re involved with another man?”

  “Isn’t it the same thing as Arria?”

  He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “You knew about her affairs with various gladiators. She used to tell you about them, don’t you remember? I asked you why you permitted her to be unfaithful to you, and you told me Arria was free to do whatever she wished. And you were free to do the same.”

  “I never intended you to fashion your life after Arria!”

  “I didn’t. I fashioned it after you.”

  Marcus stared at her, stunned into silence.

  Julia kissed his cheek. “Don’t look so surprised. What would you expect from a sister who adores you? Now, tell me where Atretes is.” When he told her, she sat down. “I’m tired,” she said, drowsy from all the wine she had drunk. She lay back against the cushions and closed her eyes. “You can tell Mother about the baby if you want.” Her mouth curved in amusement. “Maybe she’ll think better of Primus.”

  Marcus leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I doubt it.”

  She caught hold of his hand. “Will you come back?”

  “Yes. Maybe I can undo what I’ve done.”

  She kissed his hand. “I don’t think so.” She smiled, thinking he was teasing her as he always had, not hearing the hard tone in his voice.

  As Marcus went out of the room, he saw Hadassah sitting on a bench, her hands folded loosely in her lap. Was she praying? She lifted her head and saw him. She arose gracefully, her gaze lowering from his in respect. Marcus crossed the room and stood before her. It was a moment before he could speak. “Mother and Father miss you.”

  “I miss them, too, my lord. How does your father fare?”

  “He’s worse.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  He knew she meant it, and her sincerity filled him with inexplicable pain. He reached out and let his hand glide down her arm. “I’ll find a way to bring you home,” he said huskily.

  She withdrew from his touch. “Lady Julia needs me, my lord.”

  He let his hand drop to his side. She stepped past him. “I need you, too,” he said softly and heard her stop behind him. He turned his head and saw she was looking back at him with tears in her eyes. She turned away again and went into the triclinium. To Julia.

  At the soft scraping sound of sandals above him, Marcus glanced up sharply.

  “We’ll see you again soon, won’t we, Marcus?” Primus said, smiling down at him. He puckered as though to kiss him and then grinned. “Oh, yes, I’m sure we will.”

  As Primus’ soft mocking laughter floated down into the peristyle, Marcus turned and strode angrily toward the door.

  Atretes grasped Julia’s wrists and yanked her hands down from around his neck. Shaking with murderous rage, he thrust her from him. “If you weren’t with child, I’d kill you,” he said through clenched teeth and walked out of the room.

  Julia ran after him. “It’s your child! I swear it! I haven’t betrayed you. Primus is nothing to me. Atretes! Don’t leave me! Listen to me! Listen!” she cried out, weeping. “Atretes!”

  Leaping onto his chariot, Atretes grabbed up the reins and shouted. The matched white stallions lunged forward into the street. Shouting again, he took the whip and drove them harder until they were racing with all their strength. People dove out of the way, shouting curses after him.

  He reached the edge of the city and raced on. The wind in his face didn’t cool his rage. The villa he had bought rose ahead of him on a green hillside. A guard saw him coming and opened the gate. He raced through and turned the chariot, showering the entryway with small rocks. Throwing the reins out of his way, he stepped down and left the lathered animals to prance nervously as he strode up the marble steps into the house.

  “Get out of my sight!” he shouted at the slaves who’d been preparing for the arrival of their new mistress. Giving a savage cry, he swept the feast from its long table. Silver and gold trays crashed to the floor, goblets slammed into the wall, chipping the mural that was painted there. He kicked the table over, smashed the murrhine glass, and heaved the Corinthian bronze vases. Yanking the Babylonian hangings down from the wall, he ripped them in two. He overturned couches and destroyed the Oriental silk cushions.

  Striding through the archway, he went into the chamber that had been prepared for Julia. Kicking over the ornate braziers, he scattered hot coals beneath the big bed and into the soft canopy of netting that draped over and around it. It caught fire quickly. As the bed began to burn, Atretes swept a large box from a beautifully hand-carved table and scattered pearls and jewels across the marble mosaic floor.

  As he came out of the room, several of the young women he had bought to attend Julia stood nearby, wide-eyed with terror. “You’re free,” he said, and when they only drew back a few steps, looking at him as though he had gone mad, he shouted, “Get out!” They ran from him.

  He went into the inner courtyard and leaned over the open well. Scooping up some water, he splashed his face. Breathing heavily, he leaned down, intending to put his whole head in the water, when he saw a rippling reflection of himself.

  He looked Roman. His hair was cropped short, and there was gold about his neck. Grabbing the front of the gold-embroidered tunic, he ripped it from his body. He snatched off the medallion of a saluting gladiator and flung it across the courtyard, then threw back his head and cried out in savage rage, the sound of it rising and growing until shepherds heard it on the hillsides.

  Chapter 34

  Phoebe sent word to Marcus and Julia to come immediately, that their father was dying. She told the servant who went for Julia, “Be sure she brings Hadassah with her.”

  Marcus arrived first and went in to his father. When Julia arrived, Phoebe was relieved to see Hadassah beside her. Julia went in, but stopped when she neared the bed. It had been weeks since she’d seen her father, and the devastation of his illness shocked and repulsed her. With a strangled cry, she fled the room. Phoebe quickly caught up with her. “Julia!”

  She turned and spoke as she walked backwards. “I don’t want to see him like this, Mother. I want to remember him the way he was.”

  “He asked to see you.�
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  “Why? To tell me I’ve disappointed him? To curse me before he dies?”

  “You know he wouldn’t do that. He’s always loved you, Julia.”

  Julia put her hand over her abdomen, distended from her advanced pregnancy. “I can feel the baby moving. It’s not good for me to be in there. I mustn’t get upset! I’ll wait in the peristyle. I’ll stay there until it’s over.”

  Marcus came out and saw his sister on the verge of hysteria. He put his hand on his mother’s shoulder. “I’ll talk to her,” he said.

  Phoebe turned away, looking at Hadassah and holding her hand out to her. “Come with me,” she said softly, and they went in together to Decimus.

  Hadassah felt an overwhelming compassion for her master. A skillfully woven blanket of white wool was drawn up over his emaciated body. His arms lay limply at his sides, blue veins standing out against the whiteness of his thin hands. There was the smell of death in the room, but it was the look in his eyes that made her want to weep.

  Marcus brought Julia in. She had gained control of herself, but the moment she saw her father again, she began to cry. When Decimus turned his sunken eyes on her, she cried harder. He lifted his hand weakly. When she hesitated, Marcus gripped her shoulders and pressed her forward. He pushed her down into the chair beside the bed, and she covered her face with her hands and bent forward, weeping profusely. Decimus laid his hand on her head, but she shrank from his touch. “Julia,” he rasped and reached out to her again.

  “I can’t,” Julia cried out. “I can’t bear this.” She tried to push past Marcus.

  “Let her go,” Decimus said weakly, his hand falling limply to his side. He closed his eyes as Julia hurried from the room. They could all hear her weeping as she ran down the corridor. “She’s young,” he rasped. “She’s seen far too much of death already.” His breathing was labored. “Is Hadassah here?”

  “She’s gone to be with Julia,” Phoebe said.

  “Bring her to me.”

  Marcus found her in a small alcove in the peristyle, comforting his sister. “Hadassah. Father wants to see you.”

  She took her arms from around Julia and rose quickly.

  Julia’s head came up. “Why does he want to see her?”

  “Go,” he commanded Hadassah and then turned to Julia. “Perhaps he needs more comfort than you do, and he knows he can get it from her,” he said, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

  “Nobody understands me,” she said bitterly. “Not even you.” She started to cry again. Marcus turned away and strode after Hadassah. “No one knows what I have to bear!” Julia called after him shrilly.

  Hadassah entered and went to stand at the foot of the bed where Decimus could see her. “I’m here, my lord.”

  “Sit with me a while,” Decimus rasped. She came around the bed and knelt beside it. When he lifted his hand limply, she took it gently between her own. He sighed. “So many questions. No time left.”

  “Time enough for what’s important,” she whispered. She pressed his hand gently. “Do you want to belong to the Lord, master?”

  “I must be baptized . . . ”

  Hadassah’s heart lifted, but she had seen enough death in Jerusalem to know there was no time left to carry him into his own baths. Oh, please, God, give me your wisdom, forgive my lack of it. She felt a flooding warmth and an answering assurance.

  “The Lord was crucified between two thieves. One mocked him. The other confessed his sin and said, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom,’ and the Lord answered, ‘Truly I say unto you, today you shall be with me in paradise.’”

  “I have sinned greatly, Hadassah.”

  “If you but believe and accept his grace, you will be with the Lord in paradise.”

  The troubled look left Decimus’ eyes. His trembling hand took hers and placed it on his chest. She spread her hand over his heart. “Marcus . . .” His breathing rattled in his chest. Marcus leaned down on the other side of the bed.

  “I’m here, Father.” Marcus grasped his father’s other hand.

  Decimus took his son’s hand weakly and placed it over Hadassah’s. He put both of his hands over theirs and looked at his son.

  “I understand, Father.”

  Hadassah glanced up as Marcus closed his hand firmly around hers.

  Decimus gave a long, slow sigh. His face, so tensed and marred by years of pain, relaxed gently. It was finished.

  Marcus’ fingers loosened, and Hadassah quickly drew her hand free, but as his mother came forward, Marcus raised his head and looked straight into her eyes. Heart leaping, she clenched her hand against her chest and stepped back from the bed.

  “He’s gone,” Phoebe said. She gently closed her husband’s eyes. Leaning down, she kissed his lips. “Your suffering is over, my love,” she whispered, and her tears wet his peaceful face. She lay down beside him and put her arms around him. Resting her head on his chest, she gave in to her grief.

  “Of course, it was too much for you,” Primus said, pouring Julia more wine. “It was cruel of them to expect you to sit and watch your father die.”

  “I went to an alcove and waited there.”

  Calabah took Julia’s hand and kissed it tenderly. “There was nothing you could do, Julia.”

  Vaguely discomforted by Calabah’s kiss, Julia jerked her hand free and stood up. “Perhaps my presence would have comforted him.”

  “Would your presence have changed anything?” Calabah said softly. “Was your father even coherent at the end?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t there,” Julia said, fighting tears, knowing Calabah saw them as weakness.

  Calabah sighed. “And now you’ve let them make you feel guilty. Isn’t that right? When will you learn, Julia? Guilt is self-defeating. You must use the power of your own will to overcome it. Focus your mind on something that pleases you.”

  “Nothing pleases me,” Julia said miserably.

  Calabah’s mouth turned down. “It’s this pregnancy that’s made you so emotionally fragile. A pity you didn’t have an abortion sooner.”

  Julia’s fingers whitened into a fist. “I won’t have an abortion at all. I’ve told you that before, Calabah. Why do you keep suggesting it?” She glared at her, her hand resting protectively on her swollen abdomen. “It’s Atretes’ child.”

  Calabah’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “You don’t still hold any hope that he’ll come back to you, do you?”

  “He loves me. Once he’s thought things over, I’m sure he’ll come back.”

  “He’s had several months to think things over, Julia, and you have heard nothing from him.”

  She turned away. “I’ve sent Hadassah to him. She’ll make him see the child is his.”

  “And you think that will make any difference?”

  “I’m surprised you trust that treacherous little Jew,” Primus put in, full of hate for the slave girl.

  “Hadassah isn’t treacherous,” Julia snapped. “She knows I was never with another man after I was with Atretes. She’ll tell him. Then he’ll come back and beg me to forgive him.”

  “She’ll probably try to steal him from you the way she’s trying to steal my Prometheus.”

  “Hadassah isn’t the least bit interested in your catamite!” Julia said in disgust.

  “You don’t think so? I saw her sitting in that alcove with Prometheus, and she was holding his hand! Tell me now she’s innocent!”

  Calabah smiled faintly, her dark eyes glowing with feral pleasure. “Perhaps the boy is tiring of you, Primus,” she said, fanning his jealousy into hotter flame. “You did find him when he was very young, before he had yet tasted all this world has to offer him.”

  Primus’ face paled.

  “The suggestion is ridiculous,” Julia said haughtily. “Hadassah’s a virgin and will stay that way until she dies.”

  “Not if your brother has any say about it,” Primus said.

  Julia stiffened. “How dare you!”

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nbsp; Undaunted by her anger, Primus leaned back, fully satisfied with the impact of his words. “Open your eyes, my dear Julia. Do you think Marcus comes to see you? He comes to see your slave.”

  “That’s a lie!”

  “You think so? That first day, when he came to tell you Atretes had sent for you, do you remember? Perhaps not, as you’d had a little too much wine. As you dozed unaware, I saw Marcus come out. Your Jew was standing right over there, waiting for him beneath that arch. He took her hand and, I can tell you, the look on his face was a sight to behold.”

  “Didn’t you say your father asked for her?” Calabah said with calculated curiosity. Julia looked at her, her lips parting.

  Calabah cast a glance at Primus and shook her head. “And still the child trusts her,” she said. She looked up at Julia again, her dark eyes full of pity.

  “You’ve sent a viper to your lover,” Primus said viciously. “Do you know what she’ll do? She’ll do exactly what she’s done to my Prometheus. She’ll sink her fangs into Atretes and fill him with poisonous lies.”

  Julia was trembling violently. “I won’t listen to you. You talk like a spiteful woman,” she said and turned her back to them.

  “You tell her, Calabah,” Primus said in frustration. “She’ll listen to you.”

  “I don’t need to tell her,” Calabah said calmly. “She knows for herself already. She simply hasn’t developed the courage yet to do anything about it.”

  Hadassah stood in the burned-out ruins of the villa Atretes had purchased for Julia. “He’s not here,” a man standing nearby told her. “He’s out there in the hills somewhere, completely mad.”

  “How do I find him?”

  “If you’re wise, you’ll leave him alone,” the man said and left her there in the rubble.

  Hadassah went out and prayed to God to help her find Atretes. She wandered about the hills for what seemed hours before she saw him sitting on a hillside, staring down at her. His hair was like a mane, and he wore a loincloth and bearskin cape. A deadly looking spear was in his hand. His blue eyes glared at her coldly as she came up to him.