“The winner.” She heard the fear in her voice. “They mentioned a man named Ares.”
Sophia took the opening for a new conversation with a slight smile. “Ah, yes, our legendary war god. Ares has been here for years, he is the favorite among the people. He hopes to win his freedom one day, to go home to his wife and children, or so I hear.” She shook her head. “No one has ever seen such devotion in a man before. He fights fiercely, for a cause. It is custom here that the better the fight, the better the woman the man gets as reward. Ares has had the best of us offered to him, a newer, prettier one after every win, but he turns us all away. They have tried boys, girls, other men, but everyone is refused. They say he wishes to remain faithful to his wife, but let us be reasonable. No man is so strong for so long. Most of us think that he is simply. . . incapable of taking his pleasure.”
Abigail felt her face heating once more. “And when he refuses? Then what?”
Sophia shrugged. “Then the guards respond to his knock and take you elsewhere. Once you are relegated to the lower fighters, several elsewheres a night.”
Dread coiled low in Abigail’s stomach. She did not know how much indignity she would have to suffer, but she decided there and then to do all she could to avoid it. Not only for her sake, but for Titus’s, her children’s. She would not be the only one hurt if what looked inevitable happened. It could very well eat at Titus, and it would be something the boys would remember until they understood. Even as she thought out what must be done, tears gathered in her eyes.
“Do not waste your energy on tears,” Sophia said, gentleness in her tone. “They help nothing and only anger those in charge.”
Abigail dashed quickly at the offending droplets. “I am sorry. I just miss my sons and Titus.”
Sophia’s hands paused in her task, eyes wide. “You have Titus’s son?”
Abigail drew in a shaking breath. “No. No, I have my late husband’s son. Jason Visibullis. I am his widow, and Titus brought me to Rome to claim the estates when Jason and his father were both killed.”
Sophia stared at her blankly. “Jason is dead?” Her words were no more than a whisper.
A chill moved up Abigail’s spine at the recognition she saw in Sophia’s eyes. “In an uprising in Jerusalem six months ago.” She waited a moment, trying to convince herself not to ask the question that spilled forth anyway. “You knew him?”
Sophia nodded, looking back to her cauldron, her chest rising and falling a bit too rapidly. “He came by often. Several of us . . .” She halted, as if debating whether or not saying what was on her mind would offend Abigail. She apparently decided it did not matter much. “Titus gave several of us to him over the course of the years. He was a kind man. A gentle lover.”
Abigail concentrated on her vegetables.
She felt Sophia’s gaze on her profile. “He must have loved you very much, if he married you. What I heard of the men’s conversations led me to believe Jason would never wed a Hebrew.”
A soft smile pulled at Abigail’s lips. “His conversations led me to believe the same, Sophia. Moreover, I was only his mother’s handmaid. But he did love me very much. And you are right. He was a kind man. A good man.”
Sophia shook her head in remonstrance. “And yet you say it is Titus you miss, not your husband.”
This time, Abigail did not flush. She just looked up at the older woman without even stilling her hands in their task. It may have been a while since she worked in the kitchen, but years of skill did not simply fade forgotten from one’s fingers. “I do miss Jason. He changed my life more than I could have ever dreamed; but that made it difficult for me to open my heart to him at the time. Titus, though, has changed with me over this last half year. We became friends.”
Sophia arched an unbelieving brow. “Titus is never the friend of a woman. Women are but to be conquered and taken in his eyes. And if his friend married you, a Jewish slave, he would harbor nothing but hatred for you. The Asiniuses had high ambitions for Jason.”
“I know.” Abigail moved the cut vegetables aside with a quick swipe and picked up a few more. She did not see the point of saying more. She knew very well she would not be believed.
A moment later, an unmistakably large shadow fell over them. Abigail stiffened, suddenly wondering if talking was forbidden and she would meet with the consequences for it, but she did not stop her work. Perhaps he was simply checking up on them.
That idea fell flat when his meaty hand came down and gripped the top of her head. He at once pulled her head back and leaned over her so that she was looking into his face upside down. It may have been comical had it not been terrifying.
“You are good with a knife,” Goliath said, indicating the considerable pile of vegetables before her.