afraid of horses. When the Roman soldiers stormed through our towns at a gallop, we were always terrified of being trampled. The horses snorted, tossed their heads, and sidledand backed as if they would kick at any moment. For Jews, horses were a symbol of Rome.
We didn’t meet only in Julia’s bedchamber. It wasn’t long before we were acknowledged in Roman circles as a couple, and together we attended the theatre and chariot races and dined as guests at other Roman homes.
In my heart I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I tried not to think about it. The Jews in Sepphoris, once so tolerant, now thought me a sinful woman and couldn’t understand how Aaron put up with my blatant adultery. As for Aaron himself, I scarcely saw him. I stopped going to the synagogue, and when we were home together we were courteous when we saw each other, which we tried not to do very often.
One evening Marcus and I, along with Julia and her current lover, went to the chariot races, which were held in the amphitheatre Herod the Great had built on the edge of the city. Afterward, we were standing outside in the cool spring air, waiting for Marcus to finish speaking with an officer he knew, when a frightening thing happened. A man dressed in Jewish clothing pushed through the crowd and started shouting at me in Aramaic. He called me a whore, a toy of the Romans, a traitor to my people. A group of soldiers descended on him and dragged him away, but he went on shouting at me and shaking his fist all the while, his face twisted with hate. It was horrible, and I turned away.
Marcus put his arms around me, sheltering me from the staring crowd, and shouted for a litter. I could tell from his voice that he was livid. A litter appeared immediately, and Marcus helped me into it and told the bearers to take me to Julia’s.
I huddled behind the curtains, shaking like a leaf in a high wind. Such ugliness. Were all the Jews in Sepphoris cursing me like that?
A huge horse stood in front of Julia’s doorway when I arrived, andMarcus was handing the reins to a servant. Then he came over to me, almost lifted me out of the litter, and took me inside. I couldn’t stop shaking.
We sat on one of the atrium sofas and Marcus put his arm around me and cradled me against his side. He said grimly, “Don’t worry, my darling. That piece of dung won’t live to see the morning.”
I jerked away from him. “No! No, you must not kill him, Marcus! You can’t stain my hands with Jewish blood. Please, please—I beg of you. I couldn’t live with myself if you did that.”
The atrium fountain trickled gently, forming a peaceful background to my hysterical voice. He didn’t answer, and I said again, “Please, Marcus. Don’t do anything to him. Let him go.”
Lion eyes looked back at me. “He said unforgivable things about you. I can’t allow that to go unpunished.”
For a moment my mind flashed back to that time in the courtyard, when Daniel had found Samuel touching my hair. I shivered. “Please, Marcus,” I repeated. “Let him go. Please.” I put my hand on his wrist.
He looked down at my hand, and I could see the physical effort he was making to calm himself. When he raised his eyes again, he looked like Marcus. “He deserves to be killed.”
I shook my head. “No one deserves to be killed for what they say.”
He stood up. “All right. If that is what you want, I will give the order.”
As Marcus went out the door, Julia came in. She rushed to my side and put her arms around me. “I am so sorry, my dearest one.” The feel of her arms, the gentleness of her sympathy, released my tears, and I wept into the softness of her breasts.
The next day I was sitting on the side of the bed in Julia’s small garden chamber when Marcus came in. He was wearing his military uniform, and I was wearing a thin silk robe that revealed my body.
He sat beside me and asked me how I was.
“All right,” I replied, although I wasn’t sure that was true.
We didn’t meet only in Julia’s bedchamber. It wasn’t long before we were acknowledged in Roman circles as a couple, and together we attended the theatre and chariot races and dined as guests at other Roman homes.
In my heart I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I tried not to think about it. The Jews in Sepphoris, once so tolerant, now thought me a sinful woman and couldn’t understand how Aaron put up with my blatant adultery. As for Aaron himself, I scarcely saw him. I stopped going to the synagogue, and when we were home together we were courteous when we saw each other, which we tried not to do very often.
One evening Marcus and I, along with Julia and her current lover, went to the chariot races, which were held in the amphitheatre Herod the Great had built on the edge of the city. Afterward, we were standing outside in the cool spring air, waiting for Marcus to finish speaking with an officer he knew, when a frightening thing happened. A man dressed in Jewish clothing pushed through the crowd and started shouting at me in Aramaic. He called me a whore, a toy of the Romans, a traitor to my people. A group of soldiers descended on him and dragged him away, but he went on shouting at me and shaking his fist all the while, his face twisted with hate. It was horrible, and I turned away.
Marcus put his arms around me, sheltering me from the staring crowd, and shouted for a litter. I could tell from his voice that he was livid. A litter appeared immediately, and Marcus helped me into it and told the bearers to take me to Julia’s.
I huddled behind the curtains, shaking like a leaf in a high wind. Such ugliness. Were all the Jews in Sepphoris cursing me like that?
A huge horse stood in front of Julia’s doorway when I arrived, andMarcus was handing the reins to a servant. Then he came over to me, almost lifted me out of the litter, and took me inside. I couldn’t stop shaking.
We sat on one of the atrium sofas and Marcus put his arm around me and cradled me against his side. He said grimly, “Don’t worry, my darling. That piece of dung won’t live to see the morning.”
I jerked away from him. “No! No, you must not kill him, Marcus! You can’t stain my hands with Jewish blood. Please, please—I beg of you. I couldn’t live with myself if you did that.”
The atrium fountain trickled gently, forming a peaceful background to my hysterical voice. He didn’t answer, and I said again, “Please, Marcus. Don’t do anything to him. Let him go.”
Lion eyes looked back at me. “He said unforgivable things about you. I can’t allow that to go unpunished.”
For a moment my mind flashed back to that time in the courtyard, when Daniel had found Samuel touching my hair. I shivered. “Please, Marcus,” I repeated. “Let him go. Please.” I put my hand on his wrist.
He looked down at my hand, and I could see the physical effort he was making to calm himself. When he raised his eyes again, he looked like Marcus. “He deserves to be killed.”
I shook my head. “No one deserves to be killed for what they say.”
He stood up. “All right. If that is what you want, I will give the order.”
As Marcus went out the door, Julia came in. She rushed to my side and put her arms around me. “I am so sorry, my dearest one.” The feel of her arms, the gentleness of her sympathy, released my tears, and I wept into the softness of her breasts.
The next day I was sitting on the side of the bed in Julia’s small garden chamber when Marcus came in. He was wearing his military uniform, and I was wearing a thin silk robe that revealed my body.
He sat beside me and asked me how I was.
“All right,” I replied, although I wasn’t sure that was true.
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