Palace of Darkness (26 page)
Malik had healed her. In these many days since then, she had been so wrapped up in the revelation of Alexander’s parentage and the horror that came of it, she had not dwelt much on the healing. But it came back to her now, and she studied Malik through new eyes.
She had thought him a religious old peasant that night, devoted to the gods of Petra by the way he had prayed over her. Tonight, as she watched him talk and laugh with Zeta, she saw a very different picture. A man rich enough to hire a dozen servants yet humble enough to play the part of one himself.
And his religion—this was something she had never known. A relationship with One God, a God he spoke with as a friend, a God who loved him, and supposedly her, enough to suffer a criminal’s death in her place. A God she was beginning to wish she knew.
She finished her packing, then found the small box in which she had saved all the money she could. She wrapped the coins in one of her head scarves and pushed it in the bottom of the pouch.
So little.
Would it get them to Jerusalem, the closest large city outside of Rabbel’s realm and Hagiru’s reach?
Zeta called her to the meal, and the three joined at the table.
“I thought perhaps Julian would come.” Cassia tried to keep her voice casual.
Malik frowned. “He had some details to attend to before tomorrow.”
The older man’s wrinkled brow made her nervous, but Cassia chose to ignore it. Malik prayed over their meal and they passed the stew.
“Julian will come later,” Malik said between bites, and Cassia could not hold her tongue.
“Is everything ready?”
Malik chewed the meat without answering for a moment, then swallowed and lifted his hands. “The plan is ready, the people are ready, the Lord is always ready. It is only Julian who cannot find peace.”
Cassia breathed in relief.
That, I understand.
But Malik did not seem to. “The boy still must learn to lead in the Spirit. He goes over the details again and again, as though he alone holds the future in his hands.”
Zeta murmured her agreement. “But he is young, Malik.” She smiled. “Perhaps you were as young once?”
“I know, I know.” Malik reached for more bread. “He has many years ahead to learn how to be a man of the Spirit. The church in Petra will thrive under him, I have no doubt.”
Cassia sipped at her wine, but it went down bitter, along with Malik’s words. She had thus far tried not to focus on Julian here in Petra and she and Alexander in Jerusalem.
Malik’s gaze found hers, reading her well. “It is the will of God that Julian lead the church here, Cassia.” From his tone, one would think she had already voiced an objection.
She nodded. “His place is here. I know this.”
Malik’s attention was still on her, seeing through her. He grunted once and went back to his food. “And you, my child, still need to let Jesus love you.”
Cassia wasn’t certain how the two were connected, but she said nothing.
Malik and Zeta talked of church people and their burdens for the remainder of the meal, leaving Cassia to fret over tomorrow, and to wonder what Alexander was doing at that moment. Julian arrived as they cleared away the dishes, and Zeta sat him down to a bowl of stew before he was allowed to speak. Cassia sensed the tension between the two men.
While Julian chewed, Malik brought his pouch from the side of the room and pulled a linen-wrapped packet from it. “For you, Cassia.” He embraced her quickly.
Her heart warmed at being given any sort of gift by this man she had come to love. She unwrapped it slowly.
Inside lay ten aurei, the equivalent of 250 denarii, and a letter. Cassia looked up at him and frowned.
“For your journey to Jerusalem.” He patted her arm. “The money is for whatever you need. The letter is for you to give to Simeon—Elder of the church in Jerusalem and an old friend of mine. Ask for Simeon bar Clopas when you arrive. He is a weaver. Give him the letter. He will help you find a place to live, some work perhaps. People to help you.”
Cassia fingered the money, more than she had ever seen in her life. More than any pouch of coins Aretas had ever brought home from his market swindles. But it was the letter that brought tears. She had not realized until that moment how fearful she was to leave these people and venture into the unknown yet again. But to have others, followers of the Way, to meet her in Jerusalem! Almost it made the parting bearable.
The tears spilled over and Malik chuckled. “None of that. Not yet. There will be time for good-byes tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Malik,” she whispered, then turned grateful eyes on Zeta as well.
The woman grunted. “Makes my contribution look like nothing.” She produced another package. “No need to open it. It’s only flatbread and sweet figs to take you through a day or two.” She grinned at Malik. “In case you have trouble finding a place to spend the old man’s money.”
Cassia embraced Zeta, then went to Talya’s striped pouch to store the gifts. Her earlier concern at the small store of coins there evaporated, and her nervousness began to lift, replaced by a tense excitement. Tomorrow they would be off!
Julian swallowed the last of his stew and stood quickly, knocking
his bench backward. The three looked to him as though he would speak, and his face reddened. He scratched the back of his neck and looked to Zeta. “I thought perhaps Cassia and I could take a walk.” He seemed to be asking her permission. “To talk over the details of the morning.”
Zeta lifted her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth twitched. Cassia cleared her throat, feeling a little queasy. “Of course.”
Zeta added, “Be careful.”
Without a look at Malik, Julian extended his hand to the entrance of the home.
But Cassia looked to Malik, and the Elder of Petra seemed to send her messages with his eyes. She crossed to the opening and felt herself at the edge of a precipice, in more ways than one.
The sky was the purple sort of dark that came in the twilight hour. The street below was quiet, and Cassia and Julian descended in silence. Her stomach still felt knotted with excitement, and she forced her jittery legs to negotiate the narrow steps with care. “I am not certain it is a good idea to be walking about the city tonight.” They reached the street.
“I know a place.” Julian took her chilled hand. “Come.”
They hurried across the wide street, behind the merchant stalls that dotted this end of the city, until they walked along the high rock wall opposite Zeta’s home.
Cassia tipped her head back to try to see the top of the precipice. Somewhere up there, it seemed as high as the clouds, was the High Place where Dushara would be offered a sacrifice during the Festival of Grain. Cassia shuddered.
Julian read her thoughts. “Alexander will be well away by then.”
He led her along the rock wall until they reached another set of narrow steps, twisting upward through scrubby tamarisk and nearly invisible in the fading light.
Cassia pulled back on Julian’s hand. “You’re
not
taking me up there.”
“Only a little ways.”
They reached a weedy outcropping of rock within minutes, and Julian led her along the narrow ledge to where it widened slightly, providing a comfortable place large enough for two people to sit. They settled themselves onto the flat stone, legs hanging over the edge, nearly touching.
The mountain brow across from them traced a jagged line against the darkening sky above it, and a crescent moon floated in the purple sea. To their left, a winding grove of tamarisk and acacia gave evidence of the Wadi Musa’s wandering, and here and there a silvery gleam peeked through.
Cassia pointed down the street. “Zeta’s home is at nearly the same height.”
Julian laughed. “Between Zeta’s house and the work site, I think we have spent nearly all the time we’ve been together perched above the street.”
Together.
The word brought with it a stuttering of her pulse, and Cassia looked away.
Below them, a farmer returned home late, leading a mule that kicked up dust and snorted.
She pulled her head covering down around her shoulders and let the evening breeze cool her neck. She tucked errant hairs behind her ears and felt the day’s tension begin to relax.
“Cassia.” Julian’s voice was low, and she sensed anxiety. “There is something I want to tell you.”
She nodded. “Yes, I need to speak to you as well.”
He picked up a pebble and rolled it between his fingers. “What is it?”
Cassia inhaled and steadied her voice. “I am going with you, into the palace tomorrow.” He began to object, as she knew he would, but she cut him off. “I know we had planned for me to be at the edge of the city, but I cannot be that far from Alexander when all of this happens. If he should need me—”
“I will be there.”
“You are not his father!” The words were harsh and she regretted them immediately. “Julian—”
He shook his head. “You cannot come to the palace, Cassia.”
Her hands balled into fists. “I will come—”
Julian threw the pebble into the night air. “If you cannot trust me, then you must at least trust God to keep him safe!”
She snorted. “And why should I trust this god of yours when even you cannot?”
His forehead creased and his lips tightened. “You think I do not trust—”
“All your plans and schemes—you think you can control all that happens, Julian. As though you hold the world in your own hands. That does not seem like trust to me. You are a hypocrite.”
He closed his eyes, as though her words struck deep, and she regretted them, regretted her ability to see his heart. When he turned to her, his expression was sorrowful. He clasped her hands. “Don’t you understand? I have to keep you safe. I cannot risk losing you.”
Her hands trembled in his. “You will lose me tomorrow anyway, Julian, when Alexander and I flee to Jerusalem.”
His fingers clutched at her, like a man drowning. “That is what I wanted to tell you. I am coming with you to Jerusalem.”
Cassia’s mouth went dry and her eyes burned with unshed tears. She tried to think, tried to find a reason to refuse. “You would leave Petra?”
His hand cupped her cheek. “What is there for me in Petra without you?”
She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. How long since a man had touched her with tenderness? Her years with Aretas had been like living with a wild animal, his moods unpredictable and she was always wary, always careful. With Julian she felt safe.
She thought of her harsh words moments earlier. Could they truly be a family, the three of them?
Eyes still closed, Julian’s whisper of her name was surprisingly close, and then she felt his kiss on her cheek, the greeting of a friend. Her eyes fluttered open, but she did not turn her face to allow him to kiss the other side.
And he did not intend to, for his next kiss found her mouth—and was not the kiss of a friend. She responded in kind, though her heart screamed a warning.
She pulled away several moments later, breathless.
“Cassia, you must know I love you.”
She tried to smile, but her lips wavered with a confusing rush of joy and fear. She loved him as well, she admitted to herself, regardless of her determination to remain alone and strong.
“I know you need more time. Your heart is only with Alexander.” He returned to gripping her hands. “But later, when we are far from here and he is safe, I . . . I hope you will let me care for you.” He dropped his head, as if he feared her answer now that he had declared himself.
The evening smelled of cook fires and the smoke from a dozen homes wafted upward to their private perch, a smell of comfort and normalcy. And Cassia longed for what she had not known, had never known.
But she could not make promises. Not tonight, with so much still at stake.
“Tomorrow. When I leave the palace with Alexander, if you still want to join us—”
“When I bring Alexander to you at the mouth of the gorge,” he corrected, his voice iron.
She shook her head. “I will be there, Julian. You cannot stop me. I will be near my son.”
He released her hands. “That is not the plan, Cassia. Not the plan.”
“I don’t
care
about your plan!” He lifted his eyebrows and she spread her hands apologetically. “Of course I care about the plan. But it has a flaw!”
Even in the near-dark, Cassia could see the coldness of Julian’s eyes. “You will not be there.” His lips tightened. “You will be waiting at the Siq, and we will come to you!”
A strange feeling washed over Cassia then. A strange and yet familiar feeling. How many times had Aretas commanded her thus, telling her what she would do, what she would not do, regardless of her feelings?
Never again.
What had happened to her resolve? She had lost it all into Julian’s dark eyes and generous mouth, and nearly let herself be controlled once again.
There was a time when she would have agreed, to please him. Agreed, to ensure he would love her still. But those days were over. She was stronger now. Both Aretas and Hagiru had seen to that.
“Do not think you can control me, Julian.” She shifted away from him. “You are not a man I would give myself to.” She searched for the words that would sever their connection. “You ran in fear from Rome, and now you are anxious to run again, to avoid what is asked of you. That is not the kind of man I want.” Her inner sight served her well, for these were the words that would hurt him most.
Her declaration wounded him, clearly. But she would not call it back. He was not safe.
“It grows late.” She covered her head with her scarf. “And Zeta will worry.”
Julian stared into her eyes for a long moment, then climbed to his feet in the narrow space and pulled her to standing on the ledge.
She had not responded to his dictum about her plan tomorrow. Nor would she. Let him think what he liked.
When Alexander was snatched from the clutches of the queen, Cassia would be there to welcome him home.
