The boy did not ask where Jason was now. He did not ask about the ring. He simply took it silently, clutching it in tiny hands, and wrapped his arms around Abigail’s neck. Titus stood by all the while feeling out of place and dissatisfied with these proceedings. But then Abigail released the boy, struggled back onto her feet, and turned with the same calm back to him.
Now her eyes looked to burn, but with fire instead of water. Suddenly, he understood her. She would not crumble. She would force others to. “Who killed my husband?” she demanded quietly.
“Barabbas. We have him in custody, and he will be punished.”
“You will tell me when he is scheduled to die.” Her voice would have sent a shiver down a spine made of weaker stuff than Titus’s.
He just nodded. “I will. Abigail, you will be taken care of. Know that.”
Abigail met his gaze. “You promised him, or you would not care what became of me. Do not pretend it is otherwise.”
Titus could not explain why the truth offended him so much. “You carry his son. Of course I care what becomes of you.”
“No, you care what becomes of his son, and only because now it is the only child he will have. You said I would ruin his life.” She lifted her chin and gazed coldly at him. “It would seem Rome did that without any help from me.”
“It was the rebels who did it.” Titus kept his voice quiet, so that only she would hear. “Jason died honorably.”
“He was living honorably,” she hissed back, “which is what is of import.”
Titus was silent for a moment, watching her eyes as a storm moved through them. He found it echoed within him. Seeing that the general was pulling away from Ester, he drew in a breath. “These past months Jason was happy. I saw that. And now, knowing they were his last, I do not begrudge him what made him so content. I–I am glad he married you.”
She made no acknowledgment of the difficult words, did not look at him again. He seemed to have lost her somewhere, to some mist that swirled in her eyes and obscured any light within. He took the opportunity to leave her.
He went to Ester, took her hand in his. “Your husband did not suffer, and he died with honor. As did Jason, in Cleopas’s defense. He said to tell you he loved you.”
Ester nodded, but he was not certain she actually heard him. She looked ready to collapse.
“We have much to attend to.” The general encompassed Abigail in his glance, though he had not said anything to her. “I will have someone bring you their bodies. And Ester, I will see that Julia comes to you in the morning.”
Ester made no response, just turned into Abigail and started crying anew. Titus turned and fled the house, in need of fresh air.
“She will not recover easily from this,” the general said from beside him, presumably of Ester. He sighed. “At least Abigail did not fall apart. She will be able to support her mistress–mother. Whichever she calls her now.”
Titus did not reply. He had nothing left to say.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Abigail sat by the bed, eyes on Ester without seeing her still form. Ten days after their world fell apart, and yet another loss loomed. For a week Ester had merely sat, listless and disinterested in life. Then the fever had come. These last three days had been a blur of delirium and thrashing limbs. They had called in several physicians already and had even sent for Cleopas’s cousin Drusus.
Abigail closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath. What more would Jehovah take? He had already snatched a father, a mother, a best friend. And now another father, a husband. Would he take another mother as well? Then what? Her babe? Would he strip her of all that mattered before finally ending her misery?
The others went about their duties, prepared for Passover. As if anything mattered. As if anything existed but this yawning emptiness inside.
A glance outside at the angle of the sun told her that Dinah would be in soon to urge some broth past Ester’s lips. She did not feel like speaking to her friend, hearing yet another reprimand about how she needed to rest more, eat more, preserve the Visibullis child in her womb. Abigail lived only for the babe, but she was tired of the constant hovering. She stood, intending to escape.
A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she gripped the door post. So many images swam before her eyes. Jason, in the last moments she ever saw him, armed in his centurion’s garb with a sober expression on his face. The shattering in Ester’s eyes as she heard that the two most precious beings in the world to her had been slain. Titus, standing there so cold and unfeeling while he delivered the news that ripped them apart.
Raw emotion bubbled up and nearly choked her. She should not be so angry with him for being the one to tell her. She knew that. But still it boiled within her.
“Abigail?”
She opened her eyes again at the familiar voice and blinked at Andrew. Part of her wanted to feel the warmth of friendship when she looked at him, perhaps even love. But the bigger part wanted to look away. Seeing him reminded her only of her guilt.
He sighed. “You need to rest.”
Everyone seemed to think resting would solve everything. No one stopped to consider the demons that haunted her sleep.
*