The Centurion's Wife (30 page)

The man was still looking at Jacob, but Alban knew the question was really directed at him, so he explained, “I sent him, first to find the disciples, then to learn where the prophet’s body was. And finally to determine if your group was a threat to Rome.”

Nathanael lifted his gaze to Alban. “And who was it who sent
you
?”

“Pontius Pilate.”

“Did you find the answers you sought?”

“Those and more besides.” Once again he was struck by eyes that held more than intelligence, more than intensity. “Nathanael, I come here wishing to speak with Jesus. I am not a complete stranger to your Teacher. We did not meet, but he knows of me. He healed the lad here.”

“You are the centurion from the Capernaum garrison?”

“I am.”

“I was with our Lord that day upon the road.” Nathanael’s gaze returned to Jacob. “So you are the young servant Jesus healed.”

“Yes, sire.”

The disciple looked back at Alban. “And you are the man whom the Teacher praised for being of such strong faith.”

Out of the corner of his eye Alban saw that some nearby had ceased their discussion, and two of those praying had slipped the prayer shawls down about their shoulders to better observe. Alban pressed what he interpreted as his advantage. “Is that not enough reason to permit me a moment with him?”

“You misunderstand, centurion. It is not possible for you to meet with Jesus, because he has returned.”

“Returned? Back to Galilee? I just came from there—”

“He has returned to heaven.”

“Where . . . where is that?”

“A worthy question. At his instructions, we met our Lord outside Jerusalem on Mount Olivet, a favorite place of his. Before our very eyes he was lifted into the sky. We watched until he entered into a cloud and was lost to our sight. Then heavenly messengers appeared to us and said we were to watch and pray, for he would be coming back for his followers.”

He had wanted to speak to Jesus. Now that he was coming to believe all he was discovering about the man, he was determined to know more of the Master’s teaching. There was so much he needed to learn. To understand. How he envied those who had traveled with him, who had listened to his daily teaching and been able to ask questions and get answers. And now . . .

He turned to face Nathanael. “Do you think he will return soon?”

“All we know for certain is what he told us, which was to watch and wait. We are to stay in Jerusalem until we are given his command.”

“Then he will be back? Here?” Alban’s spirits lifted with hope.

“That is our understanding and our prayer. But before that day, he has promised to send a gift to his believers, one called the Comforter.”

Alban shook his head in bewilderment.

“The Comforter will teach us all things.”

“How will I recognize him?”

Nathanael sobered, then quickly responded, “Jesus will make this clear. How, I do not know. But I have no doubt that it will be so. Until that time we will wait—and pray.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

The Disciples’ Courtyard

AFTER REPORTING TO PROCULA about her stay in Bethany, Leah returned to the disciples, ordered by her mistress to seek out anything of signficance. Leah no longer made any objections. Though the search for a threat to Rome from the followers seemed utterly futile, Leah was grateful now for any reason to return.

She climbed the cobblestone lane and worked her way through an enormous mass of people. Bewildered at the sudden increase in numbers, she managed to enter on the side closest to the disciples’ dwelling. She had not moved far across the courtyard when she caught a quick glimpse of Alban, on the other side of the square. She was puzzled, but then all of Jerusalem seemed to be crowded into these streets. Was this the beginning of the riot Rome had feared? Had they called for the army? Fear gripped Leah as she strained to spot any other Roman guards in the crowd. She saw none.

The centurion seemed to be alone save for the young lad who had been present at their betrothal. They had managed to find a niche within the plaza’s far wall, one where shadows protected them from the worst of the heat. Alban was surveying the gathering with a sober expression. But it was the lad standing beside him who was the first to notice Leah. The boy plucked at Alban’s toga and pointed. Alban jolted upright and quickly began to scramble out from their position toward her.

Even when they were next to her, Leah had to nearly shout to make herself heard. “Do you know what is happening?”

Alban’s response was lost to the crowd’s tumult. But she could see now that something troubled him deeply. Leah motioned for them to follow. With great difficulty she led the pair toward the kitchen at the rear of the house. When they arrived, she discovered all work had been abandoned. But at least the place was relatively quiet. Leah heard her name being called by one of the women outside, but she did not respond. She asked once more, “Do you know what is happening?”

“I’m too late. Jesus is gone.” Alban stared out toward the milling throng.

“What do you mean?”

He seemed not to hear her. Leah was close enough to see the lines of strain about his lips.

“Please, come and sit down,” she invited. “There’s no fire, so I can’t make you tea. Wait, here’s some bread. Have you eaten?”

The lad quickly said, “We’ve not had anything since early this morning, mistress.”

Leah delved into the wooden vat at the back of the kitchen. After washing off the brine, she sliced the cucumber and then a wrinkled pepper.

Alban looked down at the plate she set between them. “If only I had come sooner.”

His hopeless look disturbed her. She quickly ladled two cups full of water, found a bit of sheep’s cheese under a cloth, a platter of flatbread under another. At least the boy showed an appetite. He wolfed down everything while Alban crumbled a bit of cheese.

“Eat something. Please.” When he seemed about to protest, she hurried on. “I have something important to tell you. But I will not unless you eat.”

The meal only seemed to heighten his sadness. Leah had so much she wanted to say. She finally could wait no longer. “I have found the answer I have sought.”

He looked for a long time into her eyes.

She found herself shivering. But she feared if she did not continue, her resolve would weaken, and she must hold to this course. She must.

“The answer. It is here.” She placed a hand upon her heart. “Within me. And though I cannot fully explain it, I know it is true. True and powerful.”

Her eyes were so filled with tears now she could scarcely see him. Yet she could feel, if not see, the intensity of his gaze. She hurried on. “Jesus is the Messiah. Just as his disciples claimed.”

She must say it all before he had the chance to respond. Otherwise she might never find the courage or the strength. “But, Alban, I do not see how I can be joined to a Roman centurion and to his government that threatens these people, my brothers and sisters, with destruction. They—we—plot no revolution. We only seek to live in peace, to worship God.”

When Alban opened his mouth to answer, she pressed on, “Wait, please, I beg you to wait and let me finish. I know there is talk of the restoration of Israel. But I also know now that they expect this to be done by God himself, and in his timing. What earthly power, Roman or otherwise, would dare to stand against Jehovah?”

Alban seemed both bewildered and intent. “I am here,” he said finally, “in search of Jesus. I came because I wished to give him my fealty.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry. I speak as a soldier would. I do not know the proper way to speak of this. I want . . .”

“You want to follow him?”

“Yes. But Jesus is not here. So I must remain an outsider.”

Alban’s features twisted in genuine pain. “Just as I am barred from offering a sacrifice at the Temple.”

“I . . . I don’t understand.”

Alban related his conversation with the Temple guard. Jacob had finished his meal, and now, eyes wide, his head turned back and forth between the two as they talked. Alban finished, “When I arrived here, I asked for Jesus, only to learn he had been taken away—someplace called heaven. . . .”

Leah could not speak.

“You didn’t know this is what has caused the furor here?” Alban asked her.

“No, I just arrived. . . . He is gone?”

“An angel told the disciples he would return. But this messenger did not say when.” Alban looked despondent. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be accepted. I don’t know how to approach this God.”

“I do not know many things either,” Leah said slowly. “But I know this. A way will be made. We will pray. And we must wait for Jesus.”

Leah was greeted by a warm smile as she entered Abigail’s room the next morning and found her standing by her pallet.

“Look at me,” Abigail boasted. “I’m walking with my stick.” Her dark eyes sparkled as she took three careful steps across the room.

“Oh, Abigail, this is wonderful.” Leah clasped her hands together with joy.

“Martha said I might go outside if I continue to improve. Maybe even go to the market. I can hardly wait. Do you know how long I have been in this room? On that cot? But no more. I am going to practice with this stick. I am going to become so good with it that I can outrun Hannah.” She lifted her stick and shook it, as if admonishing the quick-stepping Hannah.

“Where is Hannah now?”

Abigail lowered the stick. “She is still assigned to the washtubs in my place. That’s the real reason I must recover quickly. She has been carrying my responsibility far too long.”

“You’re going back to the tubs?”

“Of course. That is my assignment.”

“But—”

“I must learn to be more careful. I was trying to hurry when I slipped. It is not only Hannah who needs to slow down.” She gave another quick smile. “Now—what shall we do today? I would love to get outside into the fresh air. Could you help me down the stairs?”

Once into the courtyard and open air, Abigail convinced Leah and Hannah, who had joined them, that she was feeling fine, enough so to venture to the market nearest the compound. The three heard strict warnings from every woman they passed, but Abigail assured them she would be careful. She still needed her walking stick, but in spite of that was in the best of spirits.

Before stepping out onto the busy street, the three young women folded one end of their shawls across the lower portions of their faces. Even so, Abigail was unable to hide her striking beauty. She walked with a grace even the stick in her hand could not disguise. The dark eyes danced and teased by turn. A few tendrils of hair escaped from their confinement to curl upon her brow, framing her face and adding soft femininity. Altogether, she made a picture so compelling that the gazes of many followed their progress.

Leah wondered as they walked if Hannah ever felt jealous over her friend’s astonishing beauty. If she did, she did not let it show. The two girls were the best of companions. As they chatted animatedly, Hannah carefully measured her steps to accommodate Abigail and her stick.

The crowds grew thicker around them. Leah allowed the two young girls to move ahead. Her thoughts swirled like the throngs moving to either side. She thought of Alban, and his confession of the previous day. How strange to find such joy and such concern in one moment! He sought to be a follower of Jesus, but could he? She had no idea whom to ask, or even if she should involve herself in this. She too felt such an outsider, she knew so very little about what was required of the followers. But to have Alban wish to join them and be barred from this group, and from her, was unthinkable.

Abigail caught sight of Leah’s expression and demanded, “Whatever are you thinking?”

“She’s thinking about the centurion, of course!” Hannah answered, and both girls laughed.

Leah was tempted to confess the worries that had kept her awake the previous night. But Abigail chose that moment to ask, “Have you planned a gown for your wedding celebration?”

“Gown? No, I haven’t . . .” It had never crossed Leah’s mind.

Abigail exclaimed, “You will want something festive for the wedding celebration. Mary and Martha and the others will plan one for the appropriate time. Let us help you find something to wear!”

“But . . . I don’t—”

“Oh do. It will be so enjoyable.”

“Please, Leah. I know the very place for beautiful garments,” Hannah chimed in.

“But I don’t even know when the wedding celebration will take place.”
Or even if,
she added silently. The thought sent an arrow through her heart.

“One never knows exactly,” said Hannah, shaking her head.

“One is not supposed to know. That would take much of the fun and excitement from it. It’s the not knowing that’s so wonderful.”

“That’s why you must have your wedding garment all prepared in advance,” Abigail explained. “You never know when your bridegroom might come. It would be unthinkable not to be ready to go at the sound of the wedding trumpet.”

Leah found herself grateful for the chance to look ahead with anticipation. “I’m very grateful for anything you can teach me. Growing up in a Roman society has left me . . . what shall I say? Unschooled? I don’t even know what the proper wedding garment is. When I went for the betrothal garments, Nedra came with me. I never could have done it without her.”

“Now it is our turn,” said Abigail, sounding delighted.

“But . . . but I don’t have any way to pay for it,” Leah confessed.

Abigail moved forward, her stick softly thumping across the cobblestones. “Then,” she said with her customary brightness, “we will go look for the perfect wedding garments, and when you have the amount needed, you will know exactly what to buy.”

It did not take long for Abigail and Hannah to encourage Leah’s excitement. Their eagerness in examining the merchandise showed in their eyes and in the hands that gently fingered the fine linens and delicate cottons. The garments were white, some elaborately bordered. Leah even saw some with gold or silver threads gently interwoven among the red, blue, and purple adornments.

Then a more simple gown caught her eye, so white it shimmered in the sunlight coming through the open doorway. The cloth was light in weight and texture, with a dainty design that bespoke elegance. It slipped softly through her fingers as she caressed it.

“This is one you would like?” asked Abigail at her shoulder.

“Yes, yes, I would.” Leah felt herself flush.

“I have found the perfect shawl to match it.” Hannah moved up beside them, the white gossamer linen with its own decorations held out in both hands.

She was right, Leah admitted. They were beautiful together. But the price! Where would she ever find the money?

Then she remembered Procula’s pouch, still securely fastened about her waist, under her shawl. The money that Procula had given her to spend on bribes, should bribes appear to be required, still lay at her disposal. It had been freely given her. Hadn’t it?

But even as the thought came, she quickly dismissed it. It was not her money. It belonged to her mistress. It had been given for a certain purpose. But she had not paid any bribes for information. Now the money must go back to Procula. She would see to it as soon as she returned to the palace.

She thanked the shopkeeper and shepherded the two girls out of the store. “I think we must get on to the markets,” she said briskly. “How is your leg, Abigail? Do you want to—”

But the girl wouldn’t even let her finish the question. “I’m feeling very well, thank you, and let’s go find some leeks!”

The sound of their laughter drew the attention of a Roman officer striding the lane ahead of them. Leah recognized Alban’s associate, Linux, from the betrothal ceremony
.
Now she felt heat flood her cheeks. What would Alban think if he knew she had been looking at wedding finery, especially after she had been the one to raise the questions about whether she could actually give herself to a centurion? She felt sure Linux could detect her secret in her eyes. She looked quickly from side to side but saw no place to conceal herself.