They had been walking throughout this familiar discourse and were now at their destination, the closets. They exchanged a smile before slipping silently in to attend to their duties, without disturbing the couple in the adjoining room.
Chapter Six
The entourage was making good time; nothing record-breaking like the time Caesar marched the same Tenth Legion two hundred miles in one day, but a steady pace nonetheless. They would reach Jerusalem by late afternoon, and Jason would sup with his parents this eve. The thought brought a smile to his lips, grateful the runner would arrive hours ahead so that Dinah would have enough notice to make the appropriate dinner. He hoped she still remembered what his favorites were. And, for that matter, that he still liked his old favorites.
“What are you grinning about?” Menelaus took a sip of his ration of water.
“The idea of eating this eve at my parents’ table while you lucky boys are tasting of daily fare. Sleeping in a real bed, taking a real bath.”
Menelaus gave him an unthreatening glare. “It is absolutely unfair that you get to live in your father’s house.”
“And you in the governor’s palace. Life is full of little cruelties.” Titus sat down beside them, Lentulus and Apidius close behind him.
“Do you suppose we will be given the eve off after we report?” Lentulus asked.
“I should think so.” Menelaus took another lazy sip. “It is not as though they need us to relieve them in a crisis.”
“Good. I am anxious to see the city. What do you recommend, Jason?”
He took a bite of bread and breathed in the once-familiar scent of Israel. “You will find some interesting wares in the marketplace close to the compound. Or if you are looking for entertainment, there is a street directly across from the east gate that can provide.” He grinned. “Not that I know anything about that, as I was scarcely more than a boy when I left.”
They all laughed with him, content to eat their food and plan an evening of restrained carousing. Titus arched a brow Jason’s way. “Are you certain you would not rather join us?”
It was his turn to laugh. “And face the wrath of my mother so soon? No. Thank you.”
“Your loss.”
“We will see about that. The quiet may be a welcome change.”
“He will grow tired of that soon enough.” Menelaus knew him too well. “We will not miss his company often, I am sure.”
Jason grinned. That was why he had stipulated the “so soon” onto the comment of his mother’s anger. He, too, knew it would happen soon enough.
*
“Five.”
“Seven.”
Abigail arched a brow at the merchant, careful to hide the expression from Simon. He had come with her to the markets because they needed too much for her to manage alone, and he was in high spirits. The man enjoyed haggling . . . but was unfortunately not very good at it. If left to his own devices, they would pay a premium for everything.
The merchants, however, knew better than to try it when she was there. This one cleared his throat and scratched his head when he saw her glare. “I mean, five. Of course, five.”
Simon let out a victorious snort and handed over the money. Abigail could have gotten the myrtle for less but saw no reason to ruin everyone’s satisfaction. “Thank you, Joshua.”
“Have a good day, Abigail. Simon.”
“Well, that is that.” Simon tucked the dye into his basket and flashed a grin at Abigail. “We had better get home. There is nothing like a morning in the markets, is there?”
Abigail chuckled. “Nothing in the world.”
It took only a few minutes to near the house again. When Abigail heard her name being called, she turned to see Andrew approaching from the direction of the Praetorium. He jogged over to them, took the heavier basket from Abigail’s arm.
Simon opened the door. “Did the master forget something, Andrew?”
“No. The runner just arrived–Master Jason will be here before nightfall.”
Abigail drew in a sharp breath and thrust the smaller basket at her friend too. “I must go inform the mistress.”
She rushed to the courtyard, trusting the men to handle the food. Ester was not there, so she climbed up the ladder to the roof and found her at the loom, purple wool at her side. “Mistress. We just got the word–your son will be home this eve.”
Ester’s hands stilled for a moment, light flashed in her eyes. “Dinah will need you in the kitchen.”
Kneeling at her mistress’s side, Abigail put a hand on Ester’s arm. “Are you certain? I could read to you, or sing.” Anything to help the woman keep her nerves in check.
“No, dear one. You must help make everything perfect for my son’s homecoming. When there is a lull in the kitchen, then help me ready myself, but otherwise assist Dinah. And could you send a note to Julia, postponing our plans for this afternoon? She will understand.”
“Of course, Mistress. Please let me know if you need anything else.”
Ester smiled and went back to her weaving. “I will be fine, Abigail. I will be at the loom a while longer, and then I shall rest. You have nothing to worry about.”
Abigail stood, even though she knew that rest was well beyond her mistress.