Today, he saw a person. A being with a soul, with a mind, with a heart seeking the same things his suddenly was. He saw a life completely separate from his, yet somehow linked to it.
His world had always been just that: his. But now suddenly he was aware of the minuteness of his own existence, of the infinite God above him, of the aching woman beside him. He heard the soft, childlike breathing of the small slave boy, the restless sighs of the midwife, and he realized for the first time that he was not a world unto himself. He was not so superior, nor so alone. He was but a man, one who had spent so much of his life following his own senseless wills that he had not even known he was capable of thinking of another’s. But that day a hand far larger than his had settled over him, and he felt its soothing touch.
He sat immobile for an hour, then Abigail blinked awake, her eyes hazy with discomfort. “Titus. Why are you still here?”
Titus’s smile was as soft as her voice. “Because this is where I belong.”
She lifted her palm from his and reached up to touch his lips with the tips of her fingers, her mouth curving up in disbelief. “I did not think you could smile.” The teasing note in her voice sounded like music in contrast to the edge that had been there just a moment before. “I was certain that finely carved sculpture you call your face would crack and crumble if you ever attempted it.”
Titus chuckled, his smile only growing. When her hand lowered, he took it again in his. “I have not had much cause in the past, I admit.”
“You should remedy that. It only improves your features. Of course,” she continued, pitching her voice even lower, “if you did so, you may not evoke quite so much fear.”
“Well, we cannot have that, can we?” Then he sobered. “You were never afraid of me, Abigail.”
She squeezed his hand weakly. “You were nothing but an arrogant heathen, after all. And you always respected Jason. I had nothing to fear from you. Though I admit I knew a moment of it that first time I saw you in the alley.”
He nodded at those truths, tensing when she did. He watched her features contract, her back arch, and let her grip his hand as the pain rolled through her. By the time it ebbed, Samuel had come awake, and Tabitha too had left her bed in favor of seeing the cause of Abigail’s groans.
The midwife felt her abdomen again. Her gaze met Titus’s, and she shook her head just a bit. He sighed heavily enough for both of them.
*
As midday drew near, Titus had no choice but to leave Abigail’s side for a while. He had tasks he had to attend to at the Praetorium, loose ends to tie up before he left in six more days. First, oddly, was arranging for the guard that the Pharisee had requested. The man had apparently shown up at daybreak to begin pestering the general about it.
“Asinius!” the general shouted when Titus entered. He motioned to the well-dressed religious leader. “This man says Pilate promised him a guard and put you in charge of it.”
“Marcus!” Titus shouted in turn when his underling happened by. The man froze at the sound of his voice, snapping into attention. “For the next day, ten of you will be guarding the teacher’s tomb.”
“The deceiver,” the Pharisee corrected.
Titus speared him with an unimpressed glare. He turned back to his soldier. “Go in shifts, two at a time. You and Dominus have first shift, then Trannis and Theophilus, Caius and Julius, Valerius and Lucio, and Subrius and Marcus Annaeus.” He motioned to the Pharisee much as the general had. “He will show you the way.”
The general looked none too pleased. “Those are some of our best men.”
“Pilate’s order.” His soldier was already running to find his fellows. Titus sent a withering gaze over their guest. “This man apparently thinks the teacher’s disciples are very clever, that they could steal a body from a sealed tomb without anyone knowing.”
The general breathed a laugh. “He has obviously not seen the stone they sealed it with, then. It takes two men just to budge it and makes a terrible noise. There will be no sneaking.”
Either offended or annoyed, the Pharisee turned and walked away a few steps.
“Titus,” the general said more softly, drawing the younger’s gaze back to him, “I heard that you took Abigail home, that her labor has begun. Have you heard any more? Did she have a son?”
The mention of it made him weary anew. “She is still in labor. The babe is breech, and the midwife is beginning to get anxious.”
The general sighed. “They need an heir. Julia has been praying, lighting incense to Juno.”
Titus felt his spine stiffen but knew not how to explain to his superior that such an act would only be offensive to the woman in labor. Instead, he said, “When I arrived with Abigail, the others were gone. Do you know where they went?”
“Gone? What do you mean, gone?”