Caius stopped the group before a line of assorted peoples, their nations and races apparently as various as their sizes. He headed straight for one small woman. Under the grime, her hair may have been blonde. Under the pain, her eyes may have been blue. He grabbed her by the jaw and turned her face to Titus. “What do you think? Germanic, they tell me. Fine bones. Once she’s had proper meals for a week or two, I think she would be quite lovely.”
Abigail looked at Phillip, whose fingers were curled in fists. In all probability, this girl was from a far different place than the village he had come from, but she knew he would see her as a sister in that moment. Catching his eyes, all she could do was shake her head slightly, hoping he saw in her gaze that she shared his compassion. She watched him deliberately relax.
Turning her head back around, she caught sight of the girl. She was in another line of slaves, and she stood out. Most of them had had their heads shaven, but she still had long hair, falling in dark tresses to her waist; most of the others were filthy and looked malnourished, but she was clean and healthy, albeit pale and terrified. Abigail could tell at first glance that she was an Israelite. She stepped free of Caius, who released her without thought, and walked the few paces to the girl.
She spoke in Hebrew. “What is your name?”
The girl looked up as though shocked to hear the words, her eyes reflecting a fear that had Abigail’s heart racing in sympathy. “Miriam.”
Abigail smiled gently. “A lovely name. The sister of Moses, one who stood with faith beside him. It is a strong name, one to live up to. My name is Abigail.”
“David’s wife.” Miriam looked sideways at the man guarding this group, as if afraid to be caught speaking.
“Where are you from, Miriam?” Abigail knew no guard would dare to punish a slave for answering the questions of a prospective buyer. She tried to put her confidence in her words so that Miriam would feel it, but she was not certain that she succeeded.
“Hebron.” Again, her voice was barely a murmur.
“I am from Jerusalem.” She, too, looked at the guard. Keeping her words in Hebrew, she asked, “How much are you asking for this girl?”
The man looked at her as though she were a sea creature. Abigail smiled and turned back to Miriam. “He does not speak Hebrew. So I want you to tell me why you look at him with fear. Perhaps it has something to do with the reason you have not been shaven, or let to starve?”
Miriam’s hands shook, and she kept her eyes downcast. “He has not touched me, Mistress, I swear. He just–is a businessman. My hair, my skin. He said I would fetch a higher price if I showed up in Rome pretty, and that it would be higher still since I was a virgin.”
Abigail felt her blood boiling up. “I am certain of that. Miriam.” She waited until the girl’s eyes came up to hers. “How old are you?”
“This summer will be my sixteenth.”
Abigail smiled again. “You are older than I, though I would not have thought so. I already have a son, I am already a widow. I was sold for the first time when I was eight.”
This brought Miriam’s gaze up with a snap of surprise. “You were a slave?”
Abigail nodded. “Until my master’s son married me. I need a handmaid, Miriam, but what is more, I need a friend, a sister from my homeland. Will you come with me, serve with me? I need a maid mainly for appearances, I will not ask you to do what I can do for myself. If you consent, I will buy you; I will look upon it as buying your freedom. If you decide you do not want to remain with me, you may leave, but it is my hope you stay beside me, helping me in return for your material needs. Would you agree?”
Miriam stared at her blankly for a moment. At length, she articulated carefully, as though in pain, “Mistress, if you are sincere in your proposal I would be a fool to deny you. Do you think I do not realize that if you walk away from me, some man will buy me in a minute and make me his whore? I am actually surprised that I stood here for five minutes without drawing attention, thanks to the way that guard has kept me. If you wish me to serve you, I will do so happily, and I will praise Jehovah for watching over his daughter when she thought he had forsaken her.”
Abigail smiled. “Then it will be done. What languages do you speak?”
Hope began to kindle in her eyes. “Hebrew and Greek.”
Abigail nodded her approval, then turned back around. She found Titus watching her. He would not have understood the words, but he still seemed to grasp what had happened. With a smile, he turned to the guard.
His words were in Greek. “My lady has taken a fancy to the one with hair. How much?”
The guard looked at Abigail and Miriam as if noticing for the first time that they were standing there together. His look was as hostile as possible without actually spitting on Titus. “Forget it, friend. No matter what you offer for her, I guarantee some lord will come along willing to pay more. That one is for a bed, not for braiding hair.”