It was not a question she would usually dare to ask, but she had no desire to make a fool of herself or the woman she had come to adore.
Ester hummed. “I do not know. In all likelihood, they will have servants to perform your usual tasks. Unless they provide other instruction, let us say you should remain close to me to serve in the ways only you know how to do.”
With a dip of her head, Abigail fastened Ester’s ornate necklace and then stood back to survey her work. “I will make you proud, Mistress. If they care to look, they will see that your handmaiden serves you out of love.”
Ester placed a soft hand on Abigail’s cheek. “And if they look further, they will see the mistress loves her servant. Now run along, little one, and put on your linen tunic. Then I will brush your hair.”
She had long ago given up arguing about that, since Ester derived such pleasure from it. After a nod, she slipped out, into her closet, and quickly changed.
Within the hour, the family set off into Jerusalem. Abigail took her place beside Andrew, behind the Visibullis couple. Ester traveled a half step behind Cleopas, but still he defied custom by constantly turning his face around to converse with her. Perhaps in Rome they were not so strict about such things.
For a moment, Abigail simply admired the sway of her mistress’s hips, the graceful stride with which she moved. But Andrew snagged her attention with a clearing of his throat, and her gaze moved up to him.
He offered a tight smile. “Be careful tonight, little one. I do not believe the master mentioned it to the mistress, but the general’s wife specifically asked for them to bring us so that she might see what kind of maidservants are to be had from among our people.”
Abigail frowned up at her fellow servant. “Should I behave any differently than usual?”
“No, but I wanted you to be aware. Our house . . . they treat us better than most. They recognize us as people, as individuals. In all likelihood you will be studied tonight as a piece of merchandise, and you are not accustomed to that. I did not want you to be surprised.”
She nodded, but her mind flitted back to the cold, hard gazes of Silas and Rebekka. True, she had only been in their household for a year, but even when Mother lived, Abigail had received worse treatment from them than at the hand of these, her legal masters.
Andrew drifted a step closer. “Do you miss your mother much?”
Was she so transparent? Gaze on the ground again, Abigail saw no reason to lie. He could undoubtedly see the sheen of tears in her eyes anyway. “I do. And my father, who died a year before she did.”
“And then your mother remarried?”
Small clouds of dirt puffed up with every step of their feet. “My father’s friend. We were in debt to him and he . . . Mother said if she did not marry him, he would have taken all we had. I had no brother, no uncles to care for us. We would have been left as beggars if we had not gone to Silas’s house. So the day her mourning was complete, they wedded.”
Andrew sucked in a breath that sounded as outraged as she felt. “So soon?”
A short nod confirmed it. “His first wife was displeased, jealous. Mother was very beautiful.”
“I suppose that is why she sold you.”
“Yes.” Her gaze went to the backs of Ester and Cleopas, and warmth surged up inside her. “I am blessed that it was the master who came.”
“You are indeed.” Andrew’s tone was low, serious enough to tell Abigail he spoke of something she did not quite understand.
The walk to the general’s house was short, though on the other side of the Praetorium. Many soldiers of the Tenth Legion were out and about on the streets, all showing deference to the man in charge of their training as they passed him. Cleopas acknowledged each as if he knew them by name, by face.
Abigail suspected he did. A man to take such an interest in his slave’s education surely gave even greater respect to the free men under his command.
When they arrived at the massive abode that housed the general, Abigail followed Andrew’s lead and headed to the kitchen at the rear of the house.
A dour-faced man received them. “The bulk of the serving will be done by our staff,” he said as he made a motion to a girl behind him. “Since you know your masters best, stay by their sides and we will deliver food and drink into your hands.”
His eyes narrowed upon Abigail. She fought the urge to squirm and instead squared her shoulders. He sniffed. “Although perhaps we ought to provide a maidservant for the lady?”
Andrew’s hand landed with comforting weight upon her shoulder. “Abigail is strong. She handles everything herself.”
She could not have said why his confidence in her warmed a frozen place inside.
*