The grunts of agreement settled again into silence. Jason closed his eyes just as the others were doing, but his mind did not fall into sleep. The closer he got to the land of his birth, the more vivid were his memories. At first, the clearest remembrance was of his intense desire to leave, to be free of the oppression of the Law that pervaded the land so thoroughly. But as his mind traveled further back, he also began to remember the more appealing things of home. Like the sweet taste of Dinah’s unsurpassed honey cakes, the wafting scent of burnt incense and offerings outside the temple, the sun glistening off the alabaster stone and fair sands of the city. And while it was difficult to separate reality from his own images in his memory, he had grown enough over the past years to know that life in his parents’ house with his mother’s faith had not been as bad as he had supposed. But then, his stay in Rome had affected him in many ways, and he knew too that he was now a Roman and would never be accepted by or even want to be a Hebrew. In childhood he had been seen as the son of a dissenter. Now they would view him as the enemy itself.
He opened his eyes wide enough to glance at his friends. They expected their positions to win them respect, fear, awe. Jason knew, though, much better than they, that more oft than otherwise it gained them only the loathing of those people they would not hesitate to crush if the opportunity arose.
He could not stop the sigh that escaped his lips. This homecoming would mix blessing with curse, he knew. But there was nothing to be done about it.
*
Andrew looked up from the parchment before him to find reproval waiting on his instructor’s lips.
“You are not paying attention,” she scolded.
“I am sorry, Abigail.” He offered her a small smile. “My mind continues to wander even when my will forbids it.”
The slant of her brow said she was unconvinced. “Perhaps if you willed to learn a little more you would not be subjected to such an internal battle every eve.”
Andrew grinned and pushed his parchment aside. “I do try, my friend; I am simply easily distracted from studies.”
She folded her hands before her. “You are lucky you focus better on the training field, or you may have been killed by now.”
He laughed. “We each have our virtues. Mine, apparently, do not incline toward the Latin tongue. I have been studying for years now, and still I can claim little knowledge of it.”
“I suspect you know more than you employ.”
“Let us hope so; otherwise, it could be said that you are a horrible teacher, and I could not bear to hear such a disparagement.”
That, at last, drew a smile from Abigail. “I daresay all would know to blame the pupil.”
Simon entered at that moment. “Mistress’s wishes for her son’s room have been carried out, Abigail. Tomorrow will be the day to clean it.”
Abigail nodded. “Have we heard any news of his arrival?”
Simon shook his head. “It depends largely on what weather his ship encounters. But to be safe, I will go with you to the market this week to see to the necessary provisions. They will be too much for you alone.”
She nodded, then smiled. “Is our lady pacing yet?”
Simon laughed. “The master has convinced her to sit down for the time being.”
Dinah entered then from the store room. “Oh, Simon, I was just coming for you. I have reviewed our supplies. Are you ready to take down my list?”
Her husband nodded and smiled, then picked up the utensils and followed her back into the closet.
Andrew saw the contemplation on Abigail’s face, and when they were alone again, he asked, “What has you worried?”
She did not hesitate to meet his gaze. “Do you realize that Dinah is the only one of us that cannot read and write?” He was obviously aware, so simply waited for her to go on. “It is unusual. Most masters do not educate their slaves.”
“We have been blessed,” Andrew agreed, still waiting for her point.
“Their son has been in Rome these six years, Andrew. What if he does not approve?”
“He is not the master. Why would it matter?”
She shrugged, bit back a smile. “Perhaps I am afraid of change. Perhaps I fear the influence he may exercise.”
Andrew smiled outright and put an encouraging hand on hers. “Perhaps you should not borrow anxieties that are not ours.”
Abigail nodded, smiled in return. “Sometimes it is difficult in this house to remember that I am a slave. Although at other times it is difficult to remember I was once something else.”
“But in your heart, Abigail, you are not.”
Her eyes searched his as if for the truth. “How can you be so certain of that, Andrew?”
“Because.” He winked and leaned back in his chair. “I am an excellent judge of character.”
She rolled her warm brown eyes. “Your insight, as always, astounds me.”
Seriousness crept into Andrew, urging him upright again. “When I look into your eyes, little one, I do not see an Israelite bonded in Egypt. I see a woman fit to be the wife of a king.”
She laughed. “You are a true and flattering friend, Andrew. Of course, Israel has no true king.”
“That is your one fault, my friend, you always get caught by such minor problems.”
They both stood, habit telling them it was time to go assist their masters in the day’s final preparations. Abigail gathered all of her supplies together. “Sometimes,” she said, “I think you are unable to differ between reality and your own imaginings.”
It was a common statement, and he responded in the usual way; he tugged her long braid and said, “Someday I will convince you that my view is best.”
“You have not thus far.”
“Give me time.”
“You have had six years.”
“Perhaps it will take seven.”
“And when it had been seven, you will say eight, then nine, then ten.”
“But always will I maintain hope.”