“‘On to the real news, though. I just received my assignments today, and while I am sure you will get the official word soon if you have not already, I knew you would rather hear from me: I am to serve directly under you, Father, replacing Marcus Persibia, the news of whose death has just reached Rome. So I will be on a ship to Joppa within the month, bound home. Tell Mother I am looking forward to seeing her again. Menelaus and Titus have both been assigned in Jerusalem as well; Menelaus to the palace of Pontius Pilate, an enviable post, as he has shown excellent skill in defensive combat. I am not certain where Titus will be; he only said the Tenth Legion and no more.
“‘At any rate, that concludes the time I have allotted to this letter, and I must be going to the Asiniuses’ now. Give Mother a kiss for me, and know that I miss you both. Much respect, your son, Jason.’”
Abigail looked up from the parchment to see her mistress’s face. Ester sat, at the moment, surprisingly still. Her gaze was looking upon something Abigail could not see, something much farther away than Rome. Back six years, perhaps, to the man-child who had left her home with high expectations. Abigail tried to conjure up that image of her first day in this house, but the memory was shrouded in years of growth and change. All she could recall was an impression of a boy with disrespect for the woman she had come to love so much and an eagerness to escape the Law that made Israel a nation blessed by God. The Law she was so grateful to have been taught, that had shown her time and again how fortunate she was to have landed in a house that observed it.
“So long I have prayed for his return, and now I fear it.” Ester shook her head, tears in her eyes. “What if he is no longer the son I remember? What if he has given himself to all I warned him against?”
“Do not borrow troubles, Mistress. He seems happy to be coming home. Perhaps it required change for that to be, but it cannot be so bad, can it?”
Ester smiled and gripped Abigail’s hand. “You are right. Even so, I need to think, to pray. Leave me for a while, dear one.”
Abigail obeyed, slipped quietly from the chamber. And determined to return soon to ensure that her mistress’s thoughts did not lead to undue burden.
She headed for the kitchen, where Dinah was hard at work, as always. For a moment, Abigail paused to watch her. In so many ways, Dinah reminded her of Mother. The voice, the way she moved. And since Dinah had never had children of her own, she knew she had a special place in the woman’s heart. These moments in the kitchen beside her gave Abigail a feeling of home. Here she was an orphaned slave, but with two women who thought of her as a daughter. One she could work beside, one who could teach her.
Dinah pulled down a stack of clay bowls and started singing a psalm. Abigail moved into the room, joining her voice in the hymn. She had helped in here enough over the years to slip into the rhythm seamlessly. They finished the song together as they worked, then Dinah drew in a satisfied breath.
“Did you hear any news in the marketplace today?”
“Very little.” Abigail checked the bread dough. It had risen sufficiently, so she shaped it into loaves. “You know they stop talking when we come. Not that they do not like us, but they know we serve Romans, and I believe it is they that cause most of the grumbling these days.”
“Yes.” Dinah rinsed some vegetables. “There is much unrest. Andrew mentioned that another rebellion was discovered and quieted just last week.”
“I am glad that the master seldom has cause to be involved with such things. I understand our people’s cry for freedom, but at the same time, it is a good house we serve. Master is not a tyrant, even if Caesar is.”
Dinah laughed. “Speak like that in the markets, and you will be turned over to the high priest for treason.”
Abigail shared her smile. “Did Andrew mention who was leading this last uprising?”
“No, I do not believe he knew. I suppose no one mentioned it today?”
“No. The only thing of any interest was the gossip about that teacher.”
“You do not suppose he could be a rebel, do you? Simon heard that some are calling him the messiah.” Dinah picked up a knife and began cutting the greens.
“The news I heard about him has been more the complaining of the Sanhedrin than anything else. Apparently the man healed a cripple on the Sabbath or some such thing. Nothing to indicate that he is planning to free Israel from Rome.”
“Yes, well, Simon also said he is preaching spiritual rebirth and salvation, of all things. As if the Law is not enough for us.”
Abigail retrieved a bowl from the shelf. “I have heard very little about him, to tell the truth. I suppose I will reserve judgement on the man.”
“Mm. Oh, is Vetimus coming tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Abigail replied. “I cannot wait to see little Claron again. The child gets more adorable every time I see him.”
Dinah smiled in response. “The poor thing. I hate seeing someone so small with such an illness. To think he will never run with the other boys–”
“Do not bemoan his future yet.” Abigail borrowed Dinah’s tone for the reminder. “Perhaps he will grow out of it.”
“Or perhaps that teacher will heal him.” Her tone was sarcastic, a reprimand for Abigail’s reprimand.
Abigail smiled. There were no words for a moment, just the methodic sounds of a busy kitchen. Dinah was the first to speak again. “I imagine Mistress and Master will be arranging your marriage soon.”