Aquilia raised her brows at them. “I considered sending you to the arenas as a parting gesture, Caelia, but I decided it was more fitting that the two of you poison each other. I have no doubt you shall feed on each other’s misery until one of you kills the other. I wish you all the worst.” She spun away, leading the procession outside.
Ester said nothing about that parting exchange until they were well on their way. “I hate to think that my family has come between yours, my friend.”
Aquilia gave a humorless laugh. “My family was in ruins at its start. All yours has done is make us see that there is something better to be had.” She met Ester’s gaze. “Titus is completely in love with her. No thing, no one before Abigail has ever inspired him to be so strong and kind. Your daughter has saved my son. I feel as though I owe you for that, knowing as I do that it was the love of you and your husband that made her into the woman she is.”
At that, Ester had to smile. “Thank you, my friend; but you are mistaken in that. The heart Abigail has was the heart she came to me with. She suffered much in the first years of her life, but it only made her soul great. I am not surprised to hear that your son loves her. Everyone does.”
Aquilia nodded and drew in a breath. “They plan to marry.”
Ester’s eyes widened in surprise. “Marry? But she has been a widow only–”
“They know that.” She reached over and rested her hand on Ester’s wrist. Ester had a feeling that such a sign of compassion was unfamiliar to the Roman, but it meant all the more for that. “But when you see them together, you will understand. Their hearts are one. They need each other. That is the news that pushed Caius over the edge of his anger with Abigail.”
Ester covered the elegant fingers with her own. She kept her gaze on their hands as thoughts whispered through her mind. At last, she said, “Then there is only one thing to do. We must pray.”
*
Her breasts were so sore and heavy with milk that Abigail wanted to do nothing but wrap her arms around herself and moan. Every time she blinked, she saw Benjamin, and it only made the pain that much worse. It was evening by the time Goliath slanted a glance at the stains seeping through her tunic. As darkness was falling, Abigail found herself shoved into a small room without any explanation. A moment later, a baby was put in her arms who was fussing healthily. She knew not whose child it was or why she was in the arena compound, and she did not ask. She simply gave her a breast and let her own tears fall as this one innocent child took the milk that should have gone to another. But knowing Benjamin would be cared for, Abigail comforted herself in that she was helping some babe, at least.
She wanted her own.
As soon as the child had eaten her fill, the same slave that had put the girl in her arms reappeared to take her back. Abigail was not given much time to wonder about where she was to go. A man she had not seen before appeared and beckoned for her to follow him. “You go to Ares. Come.”
Afraid to do otherwise, she obeyed. After minutes of walking, they entered what seemed to be a corridor of cells. Judging by the space between the doors, Abigail decided they could not be much larger than the closet she had called her room for most of her life. But behind these there was no familiarity, no trunk of small treasures, no peace and solitude.
“Let your hand rest upon me, Jehovah.” Abigail prayed silently, her lips moving though she let no air take the words from her mouth. “Protect me and deliver me, I beg you.”
The guard stopped in front of a door at the very end of the corridor. Without a word to Abigail, he knocked quickly, inserted a key into the lock, and turned it. Opened it, pushed her inside. She was still regaining her balance when the resounding thud of the closing portal shook the room. Abigail’s eyes adjusted quickly, so that she could make out the man kneeling below the one window in the room, as if in prayer.
Abigail fell to her knees, too, and bowed until her forehead kissed the cold stone floor. “Do not cast me out, Lord.” Her voice trembled
Through the hair that had fallen over her, she saw him turn his head partly, as if irritated at the interruption. The profile he presented showed a nose obviously broken at least once, a scar running from midcheek to ear, and a hardness born from a life of violence. “You will not flatter me, woman. Knock and leave, I will not be your lord.”
Abigail’s fingers clenched tightly, until her nails dug into her palms. “I have heard that you accept no one. And I do not ask to be an exception to that, no matter your reasons. I ask for your protection, Lord. If you send me away, they will give me to one who will not refuse. Please. I only wish to remain faithful to my betrothed until he comes for me.”
Ares stood and turned to face her. “Rise, woman. I am not a god for you to bow to.”
Abigail lifted her head. Sat up. Then rose to her feet. They stared at each other for a long moment.
“You are a Jewess,” he pronounced dryly.