The journey seemed to last for hours, though it could not have been very long at all before they all arrived at their destination. Once there, the mob dispersed, everyone going to find a good place to watch the executions. What was it about the grisly display that drew men so? It was a well documented phenomena–even Plato had discussed it in Socrates’ voice, speaking of the raging battle within a being that inspired him to watch the horror even while another part shrank from it.
Abigail shrank entirely. She did not want to be here. Maybe now that the crowd had loosened, she would be able to go home. She turned back quickly toward Jerusalem to pursue that theory and ran headlong into a solid body. The man reached out to steady her.
“Careful,” he said in a voice far softer than the others she had been hearing all morning.
Abigail looked up into his face. It was familiar, though it took her a long moment to place him. “Jairus?”
The man’s brows drew together even as his hands dropped from her arms. “Do I know you?”
She shook her head. “I met you once, a year ago. I am Ester’s companion. You told us of your daughter.”
“Ah!” He smiled, the expression looking out of place with the milling mob as a backdrop. “I remember you now. You have changed.”
She flushed, her hands moving automatically to her abdomen. “I married her son. He and Cleopas were both killed in the uprising.”
Jairus looked shocked by the news. “I had not heard. I knew Roman soldiers were killed, I knew that one was a high official. If I had known, I would have come. How is Ester?”
“Not well.” She shook her head “She has no will to live. I fear for her. Perhaps it would do her good to see a face from her past.”
“Of course. I will try to come this afternoon. If I cannot make it, then the first of the week, after the Sabbath.” Then his brows drew together again as he surveyed her condition. “You should not be here, my friend.”
The reminder of where she was brought the agitation back. “I know. I was caught in the crowd. I am on my way back now.”
But Jairus shook his head and pointed to the road leading back into Jerusalem. There were figures on it marching with military precision, and the sound of a drum could be heard faintly over the many voices around her. “They are coming with the prisoners. There will be no escaping now. I would take you home, but I . . .” He hesitated, looking distraught. “This man changed my life. I must be here. So many are here in hate, I want to try to balance it. I want to see what becomes of Jesus.”
Abigail nodded wearily. “Cleopas believed he was the messiah.”
“I would have gotten along well with Cleopas,” Jairus mused, as if to himself. Then he shook himself. “Stay by my side, my friend. This mob is unpredictable, and I would not forgive myself if something happened to Ester’s daughter.”
“Thank you.” Tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked them away and swallowed with difficulty.
Jairus put a hand on the small of her back to guide her in the direction he had been going before their collision. “We will stand there,” he said, pointing. “I know the routes they take, and it will put us on the edge of where they will walk. We will be near when they pass by, and I will be able to see my savior once more before they–the crosses will go there,” he interrupted himself, pointing at the top of the hill, uncomfortably near where they stopped.
Abigail nodded numbly, staring with revulsion at the spot where in a few minutes men would hang. Right now it was empty but somehow ominous, much like the dark clouds gathering on the horizon.
The drums grew louder as the procession neared, and a deadly hush fell over the crowd. It parted around the path, and Abigail realized with horror that Jairus had been right in his predictions–they were suddenly on the very edge of the mass of onlookers, standing with toes on the road. She wanted to close her eyes against the coming visions but knew she could not. She was here, so she must watch. She must watch so she could tell of the event to her family. They would be worried about her, and she would give them the full explanation. Eyes wide and aware, Abigail turned with her protector to catch sight of the soldiers and the prisoners in their midst.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Andrew had met Drusus only a handful of times over the years he had served Cleopas; the cousins had never been friends but had kept up a hint of the connection for the sake of their family name. Now, he expected the man to arrive with a swagger–if Abigail’s child was a girl, Drusus would stand to inherit the entire Visibullis estate, a property considerable and expansive, including not only the house and land in Jerusalem, but also all that in Rome.
But Drusus arrived with no knowing smile, with no strut in his step. He arrived tired and obviously worried, a man quite different from the one Andrew had met before.
“I am sorry I was so long in coming,” the physician said as he and Andrew hurried through the city, taking back alleys to avoid the crowds flocking the government buildings. “I planned to set out the day I received your first missive, but my wife fell ill. She, too, passed away only a week ago.”