“She complains of being lonely. When she learned that my prefect was married, she immediately requested that you and your wife join us for dinner on the morrow. I promised to do all in my power to convince you.”
Andrew sucked in an unobtrusive breath as Cleopas’s shoulders edged back. In all his time in the Visibullis house, Andrew could not recall an occasion when any of his master’s Roman friends had made an overture to include the mistress in their social gatherings. And given that all of her Hebrew family had disowned her upon marrying Cleopas, she had become an expert on loneliness.
“We would be happy to join you.” Cleopas’s voice sounded even, undoubtedly confident to the general. But Andrew heard the thickness beneath the words.
Perhaps a new season was upon them.
*
Abigail stared at her master without blinking.
Cleopas looked to be battling back a grin. “I know you are capable, Abigail. What are your objections?”
She focused her gaze the ground, as she made it a point to do when she spoke. “I simply do not wish to disappoint you, Master. But your servant is of small mind.”
Cleopas laughed, which brought her gaze back to his for half a moment. “If ever there was a child of greater mind, Abigail, I have yet to find her. Ester has kept me updated on your progress this past year, and she is very pleased. You, my child, have a strong mind, and you learn quickly. For example: how long has it been since you began your studies of written Greek?”
“One month, Master.”
“One month. And already you can read the letters I have provided and translate them into written Hebrew.”
“My mother taught me both languages, Master.”
“The spoken versions, though, correct?”
“Yes, Master.”
Cleopas turned to Andrew, who stood with a muted grin in the corner of the room. “Andrew, did you grow up speaking both Greek and Hebrew?”
“Yes, Master.”
“And have you learned the written forms?”
“Not well. I know enough to carry out your business.”
“And how long since I began tutoring you?”
“Five years, Lord.”
“Well then.” Cleopas turned back to Abigail. “Either I am a miserable teacher in comparison with my beloved wife, or you, Abigail, have a mind for learning. Which do you think, Andrew?”
Andrew smiled at the verbal trap. “I believe that Mistress is a splendid tutor and Abigail a quick learner both; moreover, I hold that Abigail will learn just as quickly under your direction.”
There was no point in arguing further, if argument was even a proper name for the small objection she had raised upon interrogation. She dutifully took her place at the table in the kitchen and waited for the two men to get settled. Truth be told, she knew she could learn the language. But she should not. Ester had started their relationship as one more appropriate for a mother and daughter, but Abigail knew she was not in that position. It did not matter that the woman had given her softer, more becoming clothing; it did not matter that she instructed her in the arts of womanhood, as well as lessons that should be left to free men. She was a slave girl. It was the portion the Lord had given her. Why try to pretend otherwise?
“Shall we begin with verb conjugations?” Cleopas asked.
“Yes, Master,” she replied. “Are they similar to the Greek?”
“Somewhat.” His eyes went to his other student, who squirmed as if in pain. Cleopas smiled. “Let us begin.”
*
“Mistress, I will never finish your hair if you do not sit still.” Abigail bit back a smile and put a calming hand on Ester’s shoulder. The lady’s excitement mounted with every moment, but the complicated Roman style she had desired for her hair would never be finished at this rate. It was difficult enough to begin with.
“Sorry.” Ester chuckled but held herself still. “I am nervous. All these years, I have been alone, and now I do not know how to identify myself. What if they see the Roman style and think me pretentious? Or if they eye my Hebrew dress and decide I am out of mode? Will they think my jewels–”
“Mistress.” Abigail put the pin she had held back onto the table and wrapped her arms around Ester. “What they will see is a woman of great beauty. And they will be pleased to see you trying to show how pleasing you are to be seen with.”
As Abigail had hoped, Ester laughed, gave her a quick hug, and drew in a steadying breath. “Well said, little one. Your mind amazes me daily.”
“I am but your humble servant.”
Ester snorted and turned for her hair to be finished. “So you say. Now, let us finish so that you can change. I have a belt for you, so that we match.”
“I will complement you as best I can.” She picked up one of the last free lengths of hair, coiled it. Wrapped it into the space she’d left on Ester’s head, and pinned it until it was secure. Then she picked up the headpiece of gold that her mistress had chosen and slipped it over her head from ear to ear. “Mistress . . . what will I be doing tonight?”