Part 19 (1/2)

Palace business, I realized, was just as sordid as the less-exalted kind. Will your father provide one?

I believe so. My father wishes to take on a lesser position requiring fewer physical demands, without giving up the prestige of being part of the tetrarchs household.

I wish I could help, I said wistfully. In the old days, I would have woven you some splendid lengths of cloth, glorious enough to suit even Herods rich tastes.

As winter drew to a close, Viriato called on me again. I had been sick for over two years now. The constant bleeding and pain had made me thinner and I often felt tired. Worse than the symptoms that dogged my every waking hour was the plague of loneliness. Sometimes I felt starved for just one touch. One tiny embrace. But being with Viriato was like taking a dose of invigorating medicine. He made me forget that I was ill.

There had been a shortage of wool that year due to a terrible plague that had struck the new lambs in Palestine, killing many. We commiserated over the loss and laughed about the many absurdities that such a shortage had created.

We have had to import wool from Italy. The prices are so high after paying the Roman taxes that only the very rich can afford new lengths of wool this year. Mens tunics have grown shorter, and last week, I saw a Roman lady wearing a tunic that only came to the middle of her calves.

No! I laughed. What a spectacle that must have made. What did her husband say?

He praised her for her pecuniary zeal if not her modesty. She became very popular with the men. Just before I came, I saw several ladies with shorter tunics. They had actually cut their old, long skirts.

I shook my head thinking about the cold, wet days of winter and how inconvenient a pair of bare legs would prove in such weather, as the poor had good reason to know. Why would any man want to ogle a pair of goose-pimpled legs, white from cold?

Viriato shrugged. The temperature of a womans skin has no effect on a mans ogling tendencies.

I grinned. Men are a mystery to me. Let us speak of something I understand. How fares the workshop?

It does well. They dont produce the ingenious fabrics you designed while you ran it. But the quality remains good, and the workers are secure.

I nodded. I could have written Joel to ask for more information had I wished. By now, he most likely knew the ident.i.ty of the new owner, even if the man himself never set foot on the property, but hired managers to do the work for him. I did not have the heart to discover that final mystery related to my past. Better leave the secret in Master Ezers hands.

How is Ethan? The question leapt out of my mouth before I had time to think better of asking it. I dont know what made me violate my own unspoken ban on the subject of Ethan. I suppose my longing to hear about him finally surpa.s.sed my pain at the very mention of his name.

Viriato lowered his eyes. They are expecting a child, mistress.

I swallowed past the ball of misery rising in my throat. This, after all, was why I had set him free. I wanted him to have a good and full life. My sickness only affirmed that decision. If he had married me, he would be chained to my side, too dutiful to divorce me. He wouldnt have a child. He wouldnt even have a wife. Not really. Decimus Calvus had done both of us a favor.

I am happy for him. He always wanted to be a father.

I am expecting a baby again! Joanna bounced on the b.a.l.l.s of her feet, too excited to sit on the chair we had set out in expectation of her visit.

I clapped my hands. Praise the G.o.d who saves us! I knew he would bless you again. My arms felt empty for want of holding her.

Start working on those baby clothes again, Sister. Wool and linen both, I think.

Joanna. My voice wobbled.

She stopped midstream in her excited chatter, alerted by the grave tone of my voice.

I have given this much thought, for I knew this moment would come. My eyes welled up and for a moment I could not speak for fear that I would lose all control and start wailing. I took a deep breath and tried to clamp down the flood of emotion that threatened to drown me.

Joanna, I tried again. This time my voice emerged stronger. I do not wish you to return here while you are pregnant.

She shook her head, her eyes wide. You cant mean that.

Listen to me. You will want to know that you did everything in your power to take care of this little one. You will want to have no shadow of guilt placed upon you while you are pregnant.

I need you, Elianna. Do not forbid me from seeing you! Your condition has no bearing upon mine. Tears started rolling down her cheeks.

My heart was breaking. But for her sake, I could not fall apart. I could not give in to her frantic pleas. I had to be the strong one.

Why does goodness sometimes cut sharper than a sword?

My beloved sister, we cannot be certain of that. There is a mystery to such matters. Let us take care that you and the babe will remain safe. I will pray for you every day. Write to me as often as you can, beloved.

Elianna! She reached a long arm toward me.

I shut the door in her face before she could touch me. Leaning against it weakly, I bit hard on my lips to keep from sobbing.

All my severe precautions were for naught. Months of separation, of isolation, and Joanna lost her baby anyway.

It was the most awful loss imaginable, for it meant I could no longer see my sister. She lost her baby and I lost her. I withdrew from her in order to give her a chance at having the desire of her heart. I kept my door closed to her visits from that moment. Perhaps if she had not come to see me at the start, at the time she had conceived, she would have been able to keep her child. Perhaps my very presence had brought a curse upon her. I did not wish to be responsible for that. I thought if I stayed away from her completely, she might have a chance at happiness. I had little to give except my absence. This, I offered her, though it was like robbing myself.

She wrote, begging me to reconsider. There were few things in life I wanted more than to surrender to her pleas. But for her sake, I refused. I would not bend. I would not soften.

Now I had only Joannas letters and Keziah for company. I did not even have the comfort of writing Joanna anymore. I refused to allow her to touch anything I had touched.

TWENTY-FOUR.

Is there no balm in Gilead?

Is there no physician there?

Why then has the health of the daughter of my people not been restored?

JEREMIAH 8:22.

IN THE THIRD YEAR of my illness, Sira returned from Ephesus. I have brought a new crocus from Greece. It is famed for its healing powers.

You know I shall try anything short of witchcraft.

He waved a hand. We have all we need in my pouch.

My medicine included a mix of c.u.min and fenugreek, plus an addition of Siras new crocus, for which I paid an astronomical sum. These he boiled in water and, after clarifying, gave me to drink.

Arise from thy flux, he shouted at the top of his lungs after I swallowed the last drop. Even as I rose from the floor, I felt blood leeching out of my body.

Early days, yet, he said when he saw my stricken face. We shall do this for a month.

A months worth of his concoctions made no more difference than the first batch had. His famed crocus failed me.

We still have another remedy to try, he said to me. He tried to sound jovial, but his tone was more subdued than I had ever heard.