Abigail sent her gaze around the room. There was a woman rushing about in preparation for the soon-coming meal, the fire roaring in its place, and a table laden with a bounty that she told her mouth she would not taste.
“My wife, Dinah.” Simon motioned to the cook. “I will introduce you when it is less hectic. For now, I will take you to meet Andrew. He serves the master, so it is imperative that the two of you learn to work well together.”
Abigail nodded. She even voiced her question. “Are there only the four of us?”
“There is also Mark, but he will leave this eve with his lord, Jason.” Simon led them through the kitchen, to a brief hallway accessible through it. “Your room is through here. It exits also into the corridor directly outside Mistress’s chamber. For now it is your own, but if ever another female is brought, you will of course have to share.”
Abigail nodded again; they did not stop at the door he pointed at in indication, but rather went to the next one down. He tapped upon the door and waited the two seconds it took to be opened.
A young man stepped out, girded to serve. He looked surprised to see his fellow servant. “Simon.”
Simon smiled. “Andrew, this is Abigail. She is replacing Hadassah in our lady’s service. I thought she should meet you before the meal.”
Andrew nodded and offered her a friendly smile. “This is a good house to belong to. I came here when but a child myself, and I have chosen to serve my lord for life.” He offered a view of his pierced ear as proof, the ring in it matching the one Simon had in his own.
Her new Roman master obeyed Jewish tradition with his servants? Though surprised, she said nothing. Instead, she simply offered a small smile and went into her own room when Simon opened the door.
“Go ahead and change.” He indicated the tunic folded neatly on the pallet in the closet. “Once dressed appropriately, come back to the kitchen. You will serve our lady today.”
He closed the door again behind her, leaving Abigail alone for a moment with her thoughts. She looked around the quarters with a strange contentment. Here she was with a room of her own, people that welcomed her, and, if nothing else, a degree of security. It was more than she had ever had before.
It took her only a minute to shed her clothes of mourning and slip into the rough material that she knew she would have to get used to. Moving back to the kitchen, however, she found that it was actually a comfortable garment to move around in. That at least was helpful. As to the task she was about to undertake . . .
“Just do not drop anything,” Dinah whispered in a voice that reminded Abigail strongly of her mother. She immediately pushed the resemblance aside and focused instead on the words. “Mirror Andrew, and you will be fine. We send out a platter for each of them. Mark will take the one for Jason, Andrew the one for the master, and you the one for the mistress. Offer it as he does and be sure to keep her glass full. Otherwise, just stand there and be available.”
Abigail nodded and accepted the platter that was placed in her hand. Dinah put a hand on her shoulder to keep her back while the menservants went through the portal into the family’s dining area, then gave her a gentle push to follow after them.
The tray was heavy; it was strength of pride rather than body that kept her from dropping it. But she managed even to keep it steady as Ester took the portions she desired, smiling.
She followed Andrew and Mark back out of the room moments later. They exchanged their trays for towels and pitchers.
“I will pour for our lady,” Andrew said to Abigail. “The wine is still a bit heavy for you, I think.”
Abigail wanted to say that she would manage, but she did not. She had been here for perhaps an hour, he for nearly a decade. And he looked as though he only wanted to be kind. So she muttered her gratitude and followed him once again into the outer room.
“You know that Caesar has never cared too much for our family,” Cleopas was saying dryly to his son. “It was Augustus who decided we were not equal to our reputation, but I do not look for Tiberius to be any different.”
“But I thought you got along well with Tiberius.” Jason took a lazy sip from the freshly filled glass.
“That was many years ago, before he and his mother got it into their heads that he should succeed Augustus.”
“Well, if I were even the adopted son of the divine Augustus–”
“Jason!” Ester’s displeasure crackled through the air like a living spark. “I will not tolerate such heresy in this household. Caesar is no more divine than–”
“Father, please.” Jason turned frustrated eyes to his father. “Tell Mother that as a Roman–”
“No.” Both voices of argument died at his word. “We will not argue today. Tomorrow, Jason, you will have only your conscience to guide your beliefs. But today, you will respect your mother. Ester, have you attended to what we discussed?”