This made Mannas shift uncomfortably, and the other man rolled his eyes. “Are we going to stand around all day reminiscing, Mannas, or shall we deliver her to the kitchens and get on with it?”
Mannas took her arm again and began walking. “I heard that Cleopas and his son were killed in Jerusalem, but how, if you are who you say you are, did you come to be here?”
Cynicism colored her smile this time. “Here in this building, or here in Rome? I came to the latter to claim the family estates for my son, who was born a month after my husband’s death. I was in the company of one his dearest friends, Titus Asinius, with whom he had charged our safekeeping as he lay bleeding to death. I come to the former because Titus’s father was not very pleased to learn that his son had fallen in love with me and plans to marry me.”
Mannas looked over her head at his companion, pressed his lips together. A moment later he pushed her into the kitchen and stepped away. But still she heard him murmur, “Nothing good will come of this. That woman will bring trouble upon our heads.”
She could only pray he was right.
*
The head slave in the kitchens stared down at her as though she were nothing but a rotting vegetable stalk. His massive arms were folded over a chest that was easily two of her, and he stood towering over her as though she were a child. “Another worthless wench from the Asiniuses. What did you do to offend the lady?”
“It was not the lady I offended, it was the lord.” She tried not to back away. He was so large that even standing a fair distance from him, she felt as though he were encroaching on her space. But she had a feeling letting him know that would only make things worse.
The giant grunted and pointed to a corner of the room, where a woman stirred something in a huge cauldron. “Sophia came from them, too. Go help her, do whatever she says, and stay out of my way.”
Abigail bowed her head in obedience and made her way to the corner, feeling out of place and minuscule in a world that did not care about her. She silently prayed, reaching her heart heavenward without being able to find any words to express her thoughts. Help, guidance, strength, courage, patience, wisdom. . . she needed some help in all of her virtues at the moment, so she dug inside and prayed that her God would make up what she lacked.
Sophia was probably once quite beautiful. As Abigail approached her, she now looked mainly wrung out, like a once-crimson cloth left too long in the burning sun. Her hair was stringy and dry, her skin pulled taught over unfattened bones, her features sunken and withered.
When she looked up, only an echo of a light appeared in her eyes. “New?”
Abigail nodded. “Caius Asinius sent me here. Goliath over there thought I should come to you.”
Sophia nodded, not seeming very interested and probably not understanding the reference to the scriptural giant. She stirred her pot. “There are games today, so there is much to be done. The bread should be ready to knead soon, if you know how.”
“Yes, of course.” Abigail hoped she sound meek rather than confident. She did not intend to make any enemies among the other slaves if she could help it.
“For now, chop these.” Sophia indicated some miscellaneous vegetables beside her.
Abigail picked up the knife, fully prepared to do as she was told without any complaint. Without any words at all, if necessary.
Sophia, however, looked her way again. “How is everyone? Antonia, Vinius, Panther?”
“Antonia and Panther are well. Vinius’s bad knees have been keeping him resting more and more, doing mainly managerial work from his bed. I have not seen much of him at all, I am afraid.”
Sophia nodded, darting a glance at her with a mouth twisted up. “The other women?”
“I have not seen much of them, either. Titus brought me into the house as his guest, though his father would not receive me as such.”
“Ah, you were Titus’s,” Sophia said with a sigh, as though that was the truly important part of what she had said. “He is always possessive of those he chooses himself. It has caused contention between him and his father more than once. Then Caius takes whom he wills, Titus finds another, and the cycle continues. It is only when Caius becomes too attached that one of us ends up here.” The faded woman looked around her. She turned her eyes back on her companion. “I assume you will go to a gladiator tonight.”