Titus, still walking forward as quickly as possible, looked down into the beautiful face that was pinched with anguish. Even with her added burden, she was light in his arms, looking fragile and delicate. But in her mind was the knowledge he lacked, the wisdom he had heard from her before but dismissed. She was a woman, she was a Jew, she had been a slave. But she had the advantage over him. “Will you teach me? I cannot obey laws I do not know. And I need to obey them, Abigail, I know that.”
Abigail studied him for a moment, and he remembered the time only a few days before when she looked at him like that and found him wanting. This time, he was relieved to see her face soften as she nodded.
“I will share what I know, in the time we have. You leave for Rome in a week?”
“I do.” Suddenly he was loath to board the ship that would return him to a world away from this one, far from all teaching and Messiah and peace.
Abigail’s muscles tensed, her face echoing pain though her teeth were clenched against it. Titus picked up his pace.
She panted as the tension eased. “They come too quickly. It should take hours for them to be so close, and I had no pains until minutes ago. Pray nothing is wrong, Titus. Pray for Jason’s child.”
Titus had never uttered a prayer in his life. He had always performed lip service to the Roman gods, enough to appease his mother and keep away the wrath if the deities happened to exist. He did not know how one should go about earnestly beseeching a God who held all power, who was above all reproach, who held justice in his hand. But then he remembered the merciful visage of Jesus, and a calm descended on him.
“In the name of your Son,” Titus whispered, “I ask you, God, to touch Abigail and her child. Keep them well, Lord.”
“Amen.” Abigail sighed and buried her face in his shoulder to try hide her tears of pain.
Something surged inside him, unfurling. Had he ever protected anyone before? He did not think so. No one had depended on him for anything but a nice evening, no one had put trust in him to see them to safety. It humbled him even as it made him aware of his strength.
By the time they reached her home, Abigail was unable to hold back the moans. Titus approached the kitchen door because it was closest, and it was open. He walked in expecting to find a slave to tell the situation to, but there was no on there, no fire in the hearth, no sounds of life. He walked through the house, going in the direction he knew Jason’s room to be in. That door, too, was open but empty.
“Here we are.” He placed her on the soft mattress of the bed. “I will go find help.” He left her again, moving through the rest of the house. There was broken pottery in the kitchen, but nothing of value was missing, so he assumed it to be a result of the earthquake rather than thieves. The curious thing, though, was why there was no one else in the house, and no sign of where they could be.
He was headed back to the bed chamber when he heard the shrieking drawing nearer. The word was in Hebrew, the voice obviously a child’s, and within seconds he saw a growingly familiar blur moving down the hall. It came to a halt in front of him. Samuel, with tears streaming down his cheeks and trembling lips.
“Where is she?”
Even this was new, this warmth that mounted when he saw the boy’s love of his mistress. He motioned to the room. Samuel flew past him and into the chamber, throwing himself onto the bed even as Titus cautioned, “Careful! She is in pain.”
He need not have spoken. Samuel did not jump on Abigail; he merely curled up adjacent to her, his head touching hers, and ran tiny fingers over her face, crooning the same word he had been shouting moments before, then translating it into Greek. “Mother. Mother. You left me.”
Abigail opened her eyes and pulled him near, running a hand over his curls. “I am here. I am home, my son. I will not leave you again.”
“Samuel.” Titus tried to make his voice gentle. He had no experience with children and could not remember ever being so small himself. So he imitated Abigail. “Do you know where the others are?”
“They left,” Samuel said between his sobs, his face buried in Abigail’s bosom. “I would not go! Not without you. They could not make me!”
“Do you know where they went?”
Samuel shook his head. “The doctor took them away. They would not wait.”
Abigail’s features constricted again. She would be concerned for Ester, he knew, but she got out no words. Her back arched against another pain, and she held her breath until it passed.
Titus looked around in consternation, willing a solution to materialize. All he received was the certainty that he alone could help. “I am going for a midwife. Will you be all right for a while, Abigail? I will not be long.”
Abigail nodded wearily. Samuel proclaimed, “I will take care of my mother.”
Titus nodded. “I believe you will. I will hurry.”