Daughter of Jerusalem (13 page)

I went outside to the garden and sat for a long time. Who would I be wronging if I followed Aaron’s wishes? I thought of Marcus. Would I be wronging him?

I had no illusions that Marcus loved me. He desired me because I was a beautiful woman, and because I had put him off, I’d become even more attractive. I was sure Marcus Novius Claudius wasn’t accustomed to being refused much of anything.

How far I had come from the innocent girl who had dreamed of marrying Daniel. How simple and pure my love for Daniel had been. I didn’t love Marcus, at least not in the way I’d loved Daniel, but I wanted to sleep with him. It was time to be honest, and that was the truth. He stirred me deeply, and I wanted to find out what it might be like to have that sort of man make love to me.

Pain pierced my heart as I thought of what my life would have been like if I’d married Daniel. One thing I knew: I would most certainly never be contemplating sinning against my husband. Tears sprang to my eyes.

Stop this
, I told myself.
You’re a grown woman, and you know that if you wait for someone to hand you happiness on a golden plate, you’ll wait forever. God isn’t interested in your little life, Mary. It’s up to you to grasp whatever happiness you can find and perhaps you can find some happiness with Marcus. Perhaps . . . oh, perhaps . . . there might even be a baby.

I was still sitting in the garden when a servant arrived with a note for me from Julia Tiberia. She wrote that she’d received some bad news, and my company would be immensely comforting to her. Could I come tonight before sunset?

I wrote back immediately that of course I would be there.

I arrived at julia’s door at the appointed time, and the porter opened at my first knock. “My mistress is waiting for you in the garden, my lady,” he said. “Shall I summon someone to show you out?”

I smiled. “No need for that, Plutus, I know my way.”

He nodded and went back into the porter’s box beside the door.

I walked the long length of the deserted atrium and then through the peristylum, which was empty as well. No slaves carrying water or newly washed linens were in sight, which was unusual. The large garden doors were open, however, and I stepped through them into the sweet, flower-scented air. The only sound was the trickling of water from the fountain. I looked for Julia, but she wasn’t there.

I called her name, but it wasn’t Julia who emerged from behind the statue of Venus holding a seashell. It was Marcus.

I was shocked. And angry. It was one thing for me to decide I might wish to be closer to Marcus, and another for Julia to put me into this kind of position.

I could feel the color flaming in my cheeks, and when he stood in front of me I said coldly, “I must tell you I had nothing to do with this meeting. I thought I was coming to see Julia.”

His short black hair was still damp from the baths. His lion’s eyes were drinking me in. He said, “I asked Julia to arrange this, Mary. She was kind enough to accommodate me.”

My lips parted.

“Don’t look so surprised. Surely you know how I feel about you. How obsessed I have become with you. I have been reduced to using a go-between, and I assure you that is not something I’ve ever done before. But”—his voice deepened—“you’re driving me mad, Mary. Surely you must know that.”

A pulse began to beat wildly in my throat. “I never meant to.”

He gave a husky laugh. “I know, but it has happened anyway.” He lifted his hands and put them on my shoulders. I could feel the
strength of them through the thin gauze of my robe. “Tell me you don’t feel the same about me, and I will go away.”

My heart was hammering. He was so close that I could smell the sandalwood soap he used. My lips were dry and I moistened them with my tongue. He stared at my mouth.

“Tell me you don’t want me,” he said.

“I . . . don’t think I can do that,” I whispered.

He smiled. Then he bent forward, and his mouth came down on mine. A dark hood dropped over my mind, and a rush of sweet fire ran through my body. He kissed me until I could hardly stand, and I was clinging to him, my whole body pressed against his.

He said in a low, husky voice, “Julia told me the garden bedchamber will be free. Come with me, my love. I will make you happy. I swear I will make you happy.”

And I went.

That evening in the room adjoining Julia’s garden, my world changed. Marcus awakened something in me that I hadn’t known existed. I was apprehensive at first, but he was so patient and said such beautiful things to me, that I soon lost myself in the fire of passion that leaped between us. I had never dreamed that things could be this way between a man and a woman.

I had to attend Julia’s reception the following day, and I was afraid to go. I knew that as soon as I saw Marcus, my feelings would be clear on my face for everyone to see and gossip about. I considered sending a message that I was ill, but in the end I went. I couldn’t stay away forever, and I supposed it was best to get the first time over and done with.

I arrived a little late, and Marcus wasn’t there. Julia whispered in my ear that he had thought I might be more comfortable if he stayed away, and I was enormously grateful for his tact. It was much easier to laugh and talk and pretend to be the person I had always been without feeling the power of his dark masculinity hovering over me.

I had fallen in love with him. I had fooled myself into thinking that could never happen, but it did. We began to meet regularly, three
afternoons a week at Julia’s, during the time after lunch when most of the Romans of Sepphoris were taking their daily siesta. Julia took her siesta then as well, and we never once saw her when we were together in her house. Julia was always discreet.

The rains of winter passed into the sunny warmth of spring, and I lived counting the hours from one meeting with Marcus to the next. Seeing the rest of the world through a sort of haze, I was focused on the man who had become the center of my life. When we weren’t making love, we were telling each other our life stories. I told him about my father and Judith and about being sent to live in Magdala with Aunt Leah.

I didn’t tell him about Daniel. I tried not to think about Daniel, about how physical love might have been between us if we had been together. It was too hurtful and confusing to bring him back into my mind and heart when I knew I would never see him again.

Unsurprisingly, Marcus’ life had been very different from mine. He had grown up a treasured son of the Claudian family, and great things had always been expected of him. He spent his childhood at the family villa in the countryside, and I could see that this place, and not the Roman palace, was truly the home of his heart.

His green eyes lit up when he described the beautiful, golden countryside to me, the gently rolling hills, the soft, sweet-smelling air. And he talked about his beloved horses. He had ridden since he was two years old, and he told me the names of all of his own horses and described their different personalities and quirks. I never knew anyone who had such a love for animals.

I didn’t tell him that I was afraid of horses. When the Roman soldiers stormed through our towns at a gallop, we were always terrified of being trampled. The horses snorted, tossed their heads, and sidled
and backed as if they would kick at any moment. For Jews, horses were a symbol of Rome.

We didn’t meet only in Julia’s bedchamber. It wasn’t long before we were acknowledged in Roman circles as a couple, and together we attended the theatre and chariot races and dined as guests at other Roman homes.

In my heart I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I tried not to think about it. The Jews in Sepphoris, once so tolerant, now thought me a sinful woman and couldn’t understand how Aaron put up with my blatant adultery. As for Aaron himself, I scarcely saw him. I stopped going to the synagogue, and when we were home together we were courteous when we saw each other, which we tried not to do very often.

One evening Marcus and I, along with Julia and her current lover, went to the chariot races, which were held in the amphitheatre Herod the Great had built on the edge of the city. Afterward, we were standing outside in the cool spring air, waiting for Marcus to finish speaking with an officer he knew, when a frightening thing happened. A man dressed in Jewish clothing pushed through the crowd and started shouting at me in Aramaic. He called me a whore, a toy of the Romans, a traitor to my people. A group of soldiers descended on him and dragged him away, but he went on shouting at me and shaking his fist all the while, his face twisted with hate. It was horrible, and I turned away.

Marcus put his arms around me, sheltering me from the staring crowd, and shouted for a litter. I could tell from his voice that he was livid. A litter appeared immediately, and Marcus helped me into it and told the bearers to take me to Julia’s.

I huddled behind the curtains, shaking like a leaf in a high wind. Such ugliness. Were all the Jews in Sepphoris cursing me like that?

A huge horse stood in front of Julia’s doorway when I arrived, and
Marcus was handing the reins to a servant. Then he came over to me, almost lifted me out of the litter, and took me inside. I couldn’t stop shaking.

We sat on one of the atrium sofas and Marcus put his arm around me and cradled me against his side. He said grimly, “Don’t worry, my darling. That piece of dung won’t live to see the morning.”

I jerked away from him. “No! No, you must not kill him, Marcus! You can’t stain my hands with Jewish blood. Please, please—I beg of you. I couldn’t live with myself if you did that.”

The atrium fountain trickled gently, forming a peaceful background to my hysterical voice. He didn’t answer, and I said again, “Please, Marcus. Don’t do anything to him. Let him go.”

Lion eyes looked back at me. “He said unforgivable things about you. I can’t allow that to go unpunished.”

For a moment my mind flashed back to that time in the courtyard, when Daniel had found Samuel touching my hair. I shivered. “Please, Marcus,” I repeated. “Let him go. Please.” I put my hand on his wrist.

He looked down at my hand, and I could see the physical effort he was making to calm himself. When he raised his eyes again, he looked like Marcus. “He deserves to be killed.”

I shook my head. “No one deserves to be killed for what they say.”

He stood up. “All right. If that is what you want, I will give the order.”

As Marcus went out the door, Julia came in. She rushed to my side and put her arms around me. “I am so sorry, my dearest one.” The feel of her arms, the gentleness of her sympathy, released my tears, and I wept into the softness of her breasts.

The next day I was sitting on the side of the bed in Julia’s small garden chamber when Marcus came in. He was wearing his military uniform, and I was wearing a thin silk robe that revealed my body.

He sat beside me and asked me how I was.

“All right,” I replied, although I wasn’t sure that was true. I had stayed awake all night thinking about the words that man had screamed at me. I asked, “Did you find out who he was?”

“He was a Zealot. They’re the group giving us the most problems, but I didn’t think they’d dare act in Sepphoris, where they don’t even have support from their own people.”