She wanted to escape it, needed to escape it, but could not. She tried to do so by turning inward, forgetting the presence of the world in which those dearest to her were no more. But inside, it was no better. Her mind was tormented.
She could hear Abigail’s voice continually, calling her back, begging her to return. But she could not. For her daughter’s sake she would, but there was so much else to be battled. And how could she look at Abigail, large with child, and know that the babe’s father would never again smile at them? How could she look at the boy Jason had brought home and not see the compassion that had been shining in her son’s eyes, now extinguished?
Why did God take two men who were strong and good, who were working for righteousness and pursuing His precepts, and leave the murderous, traitorous wretches unharmed? It was not fair. And was it wise? The more good men he took, the fewer there would be to teach the rest of them. Now there was no one to lead her, no one to love her.
She wanted to die. But on the other hand, she feared death as she feared nothing else. Was she good enough, clean enough, righteous enough to enter Paradise, or would she be thrown into the pit of weeping and gnashing of teeth?
She wanted Cleopas. She wanted Jason. She wanted Abigail’s sweet voice to tell her it had all been a cruel joke, that they were well and sitting beside her. Then she would return. She would open her eyes. She would live again. Only then.
*
Abigail sighed when Ester moaned. There had been so many days with no changes in her. Abigail felt the tears of frustration welling up. She wanted to lash out, at the world, at Ester, at anyone. She wanted to demand that the woman she loved so much love her in return, love her enough to fight. She wanted to demand that Ester give her babe a chance to know her.
But nothing worked. No pleas, no words, nothing could touch the widow who through sickness of heart and body now looked so old and weak. And though Abigail knew it was selfish, she hurt to realize she did not mean enough to Ester to call her back. She was angry with the woman for taking the easy path when she herself did not have that option. She had to live for her child. Should not Ester have to live for her?
But she was not Ester’s child. That became very clear. No matter how many times Ester claimed she was a daughter, no matter how much she rejoiced when the marriage to Jason made it legally so, she very simply was not. Ester’s love for her did not run so deep. It was not enough to combat the pain of her loss.
Perhaps it would have been better for them all if Cleopas had never come to Silas’s house, had never bought her. Then she would not have been compelled to love again, to open her heart to these people that would only leave her, as her father had done, as her mother. If she had just remained closed off, this would not hurt so much. It would be better to be a simple slave, working in a kitchen somewhere with no other cares. Then she would not be educated enough to recognize her own inadequacy, she would not be praying so fervently that her child was a son to carry on the Visibullis legacy.
She prayed more too–she prayed a curse upon the man who had done this to her. Barabbas. Every time she thought the name, new rage boiled up inside her. Barabbas. The Son of a Father had taken away both a father and a son, had left her son fatherless, had left her mother sonless. And for what? Did he actually expect to liberate Jerusalem from Rome? Was he fool enough not to realize that even if he gained control of the walls, of the Praetorium, there would be more soldiers that came to win them back? Rome was too large, too mighty, and too prideful to let a band of outlaws take over one of their legions. Fighting was useless. Until God gave them their nation back, it could not be won.
She took a modicum of comfort in knowing that Barabbas would meet the penalty for his murders. And on the dawn of the day when the execution was scheduled, Abigail awoke knowing she would find a way to be there. No one would want to let her, but she would not be stopped. She would go outside the walls of the city, climb the hill to Golgotha, and be there when the destroyer hanged.
When she entered the kitchen, the others were there already, talking among themselves. After the Passover meal the night before, for which she could not stay awake, she expected them to all be solemn and introspective. Instead, there was an air of anticipation in the room. When she entered, Andrew turned to her with a smile.
“Drusus is at the gates. I must go meet him and lead him here. And it seems there is some excitement in the city today: Jesus whom they call Christ has been arrested.”
Abigail sighed. “Why do they arrest a teacher?”
Dinah gave a dry laugh. “Because he offends the Sanhedrin and proclaims himself Messiah. The difficult part will be finding something to convict him of before the court of Pilate. Simon was out in the markets today and heard the talk. He will be brought to the Fortress of Antonia soon, where Pilate will pass judgement on him, as well as the other criminals who are to be crucified today.”