*
The bread was in the oven, the cakes cooling. Dinah had the rest under control, and Abigail took the opportunity to slip away to help Ester. She found her mistress as she had expected to, pacing the courtyard impatiently.
“Come, Mistress.” Abigail stayed inside and bade Ester join her. “Let us get you ready.”
Ester came in and sat in her normal place for her hair to be brushed, although she fidgeted every which direction.
Abigail laughed softly and put calming hands on her mistress’s shoulders. “If you do not calm down, your hair will be a wadded mess. Is that the impression you wish to make on your son?”
Ester tried to scowl into the metal mirror but gave up and laughed instead. “I cannot help it, Abigail, you know that.” Then her brows drew together. “His correspondences have been so vague. A soldier’s life can be a treacherous one. I see many men scarred in many ways during their service. They often become so cold, even cruel.”
“But then, look at your husband.” Abigail gathered her mistress’s long locks, smoothed them with her hands. “There is none whose heart could rival his.”
Ester sighed. “That, precisely, is my fear.”
Abigail met her mistress’s eye. “What of Vetimus, then? The general? Alexander? Marcus?”
Ester finally smiled. “All right, I admit it, there are many soldiers that are of noble spirit, men of honor. But you must also admit that for every one of those, there are a hundred that are not.”
Abigail smiled. “I would not know. My only acquaintances among them are the ones I just mentioned.” Satisfied with the level of stillness Ester had managed, she picked up the brush and began her methodic and soothing work. “Will you wear the new stola your husband gave you, with the gold collar?”
“Would that be too much?”
“Is anything too much for your son’s return?”
Ester smiled. “Nothing. And you wear your new white tunic. I have finished a multi-colored belt for you.”
“Certainly, although I will have to wait until the last minute to change; I do not want to stain the linen with kitchen work.”
“You can change right before we dine, then. I will just give you the belt, in case I am busy by the time you are finished with Dinah.”
“That is fine. There, your hair is shining as the sun. How would you like it dressed?”
“Just bind it in the Hebrew fashion, it is simpler.”
Abigail selected a length of cloth that would complement the stola and wrapped it around her hair. She then fetched the clothing.
As the folds settled across her curves, Ester smiled. “Jason will be impressed with his mother’s youthful beauty, will he not?” she asked, winking.
Abigail laughed. “He will be sure to tell all his friends so as to drive them to jealousy over his fine family. A queen of a mother, and a father that they must all obey.”
Ester, too, breathed a laugh. “You have made me feel much better, Abigail. But now I fear you must return to Dinah. The hour grows late, and there is still much to be done, I am sure.”
“Are you certain you are all right?”
“Go. Let me fret in peace if I will.”
With a last smile, Abigail left her mistress’s chamber and made her way back to the kitchen, where the pace had picked up again.
*
“Jason Visibullis, centurion, reporting as ordered from Rome, Lord.”
Cleopas looked up from the sword he had been sharpening, a smile ready. Even through six years of change, he recognized that voice. “Jason!” Putting formality aside, he embraced his son with a hearty, happy laugh. “My son! It is good to see you again.”
Jason grinned. “You look well, Father.”
“As do you.” He took a step back to study the younger man. “It is so good to have you back.” Cleopas clasped his son’s shoulder with a strong hand. “Shall I show you around the Praetorium, or does your memory recall the layout?”
“I have gone over it in my mind many times, I think I will be fine.” His smile stretched across his face, his gaze traveled from Cleopas’s face to the compound. “Frankly, Father, what I could use is a good hot meal.”
Laughter once again bubbled from Cleopas’s lips. “Andrew assures me that the women have been in the kitchen ever since they received word of your arrival. Let us go home. Your baggage is there behind you?” At his son’s nod, Cleopas motioned Andrew to pick up the burden.
Andrew moved to obey, but question creased his brow.
It triggered his own. “Jason? Where is Mark?”
Jason’s eyes went blank for a moment before he regained himself. “In Rome, I suppose.”
“You suppose? You do not know where your slave is?” Cleopas tried to control the hard edge of his voice, but the flicker of annoyance across Jason’s face proved he had not.
“Well, I have not seen him for two years, Father.”
“And why is that?”
“I sold him to the state.”