A Voice in the Wind by Francine Rivers
“Then you never went to the ludus?”
“No. I didn’t go,” Julia said wearily. Her mouth twisted bitterly. “It wouldn’t be proper for me to arrive unescorted,” she said derisively. She gave a soft, self-mocking laugh. “Marcus would say I’m plebeian in my thinking.” She stood up and moved away. Hadassah could see the tension gathering again, the storm coming. How was she going to tell Julia about Claudius? Her mistress’s emotions were already a shambles. Her own were no more under control.
Julia drew several pins from her hair and threw them on the vanity. They bounced off onto the floor and Hadassah stooped to pick them up. “I should have gone and seen the match,” Julia said. “A little scandal might wake Claudius up to his duties as my husband. Am I to do nothing but sit around for the rest of my life while he buries himself in his boring studies of religions of the Empire? Who will read them? Tell me. No one is interested.” Her eyes filled with angry, self-pitying tears. “I despise him.”
“Oh, my lady,” Hadassah had said, biting her lip, unable to keep the tears back.
“I know you are fond of him, but he is so dull. For all his supposed intellect, he is the most boring man I’ve ever met. And I don’t care if he knows it.” Flying to the door, she flung it open and cried out across the open garden of the peristyle. “Can you hear me, Claudius? You’re a bore!”
Mortified by her behavior, Hadassah was overcome. She rushed to the door, pushed Julia aside, and closed it.
“What are you doing?” Julia cried shrilly.
“My lady, please be quiet! He’s dead! Do you want everyone hearing you?”
“What?” Julia’s response was faint, disbelieving, and her face paled.
“He went after you. They found him on the way to the ludus. He fell from his horse and broke his neck.”
Eyes wild, Julia drew back as though she had been struck. “By the gods, he’s such a fool!”
Aghast, Hadassah stared at her, her own emotions in turmoil. Did Julia think Claudius a fool for having fallen from his horse or a fool for having gone after her? For an instant, Hadassah had loathed her, and then swift shame filled her. She had failed in her duty. She should have stopped Julia from leaving the villa. She should have gone after her.
“He can’t be dead. What will I do?” Julia cried and dissolved into hysteria.
Word was sent to Decimus Valerian of Claudius’ death. Hadassah knew arrangements had to be made for the funeral, but Julia, the only one with authority, was incapable of making any decisions in her present state. Claudius’ body lay in his chambers, washed, wrapped, and decaying.
Persis grieved Claudius as a son would grieve the loss of a father. Even the maids wept. The gardeners were silent and grim. The slaves gathered and talked, and no work was done.
Julia was right. They did all blame her. In small part, they even blamed Hadassah, for she served Julia and was completely loyal to her. Granted, she had served Claudius well, spending hours helping him with his studies, but she was not one of them.
Julia’s grief was guilt inspired, and her hysteria took the form of irrational fears that the slaves wanted her dead. She refused to leave her chambers. She wouldn’t eat, she couldn’t sleep.
“I should never have married him,” Julia said one day, pale and distraught. “I should have refused no matter what Father said. The marriage was a disaster from the beginning. Claudius wasn’t happy. I wasn’t the wife he wanted. He wanted someone like his first wife who was content with studying dull scrolls.” She wept again. “It’s not my fault he’s dead. I didn’t want him to come after me.” Her tears turned to irrational rage. “It’s Father’s fault. If he hadn’t insisted I marry Claudius, none of this would have happened!”
Hadassah did her best to soothe away Julia’s fears and make her see reason, but Julia wouldn’t listen. She refused to eat, terrified one of the kitchen slaves would poison her. “They hate me. Did you see how she looked at me when she brought the tray in? Persis runs the household and he hates me as much as he loved Claudius.”
When she finally slept, she awakened with nightmares. Hadassah was frightened by her mistress’s unruly passions and her wild flights of imagination. “No one wants to harm you, my lady. They are worried about you.”
That was true, the slaves were worried; they had overheard some of Julia’s wild, unfounded accusations that they were intent on killing her. If Valerian heard and believed, they were all at risk of execution.
Decimus Valerian didn’t come. He had sailed to Ephesus on business just before Claudius’ accident. He wouldn’t learn of it until his return. Phoebe Valerian arrived with Marcus on the afternoon of the third day. Catya came running and knocked on the locked door of Julia’s chambers announcing their arrival.
“Don’t unlock the door!” Julia said, eyes wild from lack of sleep. “It’s a trick.”
“Julia,” Phoebe said a few minutes later. “Julia, let me in, darling.” When Julia heard her mother’s voice, she flew from her bed to the door and unbolted it. “Mama!” she cried, throwing herself into Phoebe’s arms and sobbing. “They all want to kill me. They all hate me. They wish I’d been killed, and not Claudius!”
Phoebe drew her daughter into the room. “Nonsense, Julia. Come and sit down now.” She glanced at Hadassah. “Have someone bring my cases in here immediately. I have something I can give her to calm her nerves.”
Hadassah saw Marcus standing in the doorway, his face darkened with anger and concern. Not a single word Julia had said was true, but the rash accusations were enough to destroy the lives of an entire household of slaves if Marcus believed her. Julia was weeping copiously and clinging to her mother.
As soon as Hadassah returned, one of the men carrying two cases behind her, Phoebe told her to take a small amphora from her cosmetics box. “Mix a few drops in a glass of wine.”
“I won’t drink any wine in this house!” Julia cried out. “They’ve poisoned it!”
“Oh, no, my lady,” Hadassah said in distress. With trembling hands, she poured some in a glass and drank half. She held the glass out to show Julia, and looked at Phoebe in tearful appeal. “I swear no one means to harm her.”
Marcus took the glass from her. “Where did you say the amphora was, Mother?” He found it and poured the drops into the wine, handing it to his mother, and watched as his weeping sister drank it. “If you don’t need me, Mother, there are arrangements that should be made,” he said grimly. She nodded, understanding.
Marcus took Hadassah firmly by the arm and half-pushed her into the corridor, closing the door behind him. “You look dead on your feet,” he said, taking in her white face and the dark shadows beneath her eyes. “How long has Julia been like this?”
“Three days, my lord. Since she learned of Claudius’ death.”
Marcus was struck by the familiar way Hadassah said Claudius. Had she come to love him? “An unfortunate accident by the report we received,” he said. Her eyes filled with the tears she clearly was trying to hold back. They spilled over and ran down her cheeks. “Go and rest,” he said tersely. “I will speak with you later.”
While his mother comforted Julia, Marcus took command of the household. He was appalled at the state the house was in. It appeared nothing had been done in days. Claudius had not even been buried. Marcus ordered it done immediately. “Is his wife buried here?” he demanded of Persis, who said she was. “Then bury your master beside her. And quickly!” All the furnishings from Claudius’ fouled chambers were burned and the room scoured and aired.
Closeting himself in the library, Marcus went over the meticulous records and journals concerning the villa and surrounding estate. He smiled cynically as he sipped wine and made calculations. Julia would be well consoled when she realized Claudius’ death had left her with a fortune, though she would have little say in the dispensation.
In his father’s absence, Marcus had full authority to make whatever decisions he thought necessary. Julia had made no secret of her dislike of C
With her mother in residence, Julia was calmer. She was eating and sleeping again. Marcus told her of his decision to sell the villa, and her grief was entirely forgotten in the joy of knowing she was returning to Rome. “And what of the slaves? What will you do to them?”
“What would you have me do?”
“I want them scattered. Except for Persis. He was always disrespectful. He should be sent to the galleys. I insist,” she said.
“It’s not your place to insist anything,” Marcus said, annoyed. “You’re now beneath Father’s care again, and I’m executor of the estate in his absence.”
Julia’s eyes flashed. “I’ve nothing to say about anything? I was Claudius’ wife.”
“Not much of a wife from what you’ve told me.”
“You accuse me, too!” Julia said, quick tears coming again.
“I had to set my own affairs aside in order to come and sort out yours. Grow up, Julia! Don’t make matters more difficult than they already are,” he said, his patience with her tears and self-pity coming to an end.
He went out into the gardens alone each evening, wandering aimlessly, restlessly. He wondered if Hadassah came out to pray in the darkness as she used to. To what god should he pray to unravel this mess? What was he to do concerning the slaves? He knew he had to make a decision, but was loath to do so.
He went up onto the hill and sat beneath a fanum, one of the small temples. Leaning back against a marble pillar, he stared up at the starlit night. He had known the marriage was a mistake from the beginning, but he certainly had never wished ill upon Claudius. Julia had said enough in the last few days to reveal what a disaster things had been. Most of the blame he knew lay at her own feet. Now, she had brought up another matter he had to consider.
No one had gone to look for her. After a few days of observation, he began to wonder if some of her accusations were true. The slaves may not have actively sought her death, but they hadn’t provided for her protection either.
“My lord?”
Startled, he sat up. His heart quickened as he saw Hadassah standing nearby in the shadows. “So you have not given up coming out to pray to your unseen god,” he said lightly, relaxing back against the pillar again.
“No, my lord,” she said, and he heard the smile in her voice. She came closer. “May I speak with you freely?” He nodded his assent. “I don’t believe Master Claudius would have wanted Persis or the others taken from this home.”
His mouth tightened. He had come up here to get away from the problem for a while, and now here was the last person he expected to mention it bringing it up. “Did Persis blame Julia for Claudius’ death?” he asked bluntly.
Silence hung. “My lord, no one is to blame for another’s actions.”
He rose, angry now. “You didn’t answer the question, which is answer enough. Julia’s accusations are not so farfetched as I first thought.”
“No one ever sought to harm her, my lord. May God do so to me and more also if what I say isn’t true. Persis grieves his master like one grieving a beloved father. His only thought was for him. Lord Claudius brought him here when he was a small boy. Persis served with love and devotion, and Master Claudius trusted him in everything, treating him as fondly as a son. Persis never meant harm to come to your sister.”
“I’ve only your word for what you say,” he said tersely.
“As God lives, my lord, I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Marcus believed her, but it didn’t alter anything. He felt weary. “Sit with me and tell me what happened that day.” He patted the marble beside him. She sat down slowly, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. He wanted to take her hand and encourage her to trust him, but knew such an action would do the opposite. “Tell me. You needn’t be afraid.”
She told him the bare facts. Julia wanted to go to the ludus; Claudius didn’t. Julia went by herself, and Claudius went to bring her back. He knew all that from Julia herself.
“When Claudius was found and brought back, who went for Julia?” he said pointedly, knowing already no one had. He spoke before she could answer. “She told me she was on her way to Rome.” He had been furious when Julia told him that. Her temper always did overcome her common sense. “Do you know what can happen to a woman alone on the Appian Way? She’s open game for robbers and worse. Who went to search for her, Hadassah?”
“The fault lies with me,” she said. “May God forgive me, but I didn’t search for Lady Julia any more than the others did. I didn’t know where to look or what to do, so I did nothing. I watched and I waited. It’s more my fault than anyone’s because her good is my responsibility.”
He was angry that she had come to plead their cause and offered herself in sacrifice. “You blame yourself for the inaction of an entire household staff? Your thoughts have always been trained on her. You didn’t leave her alone for a moment after she learned of Claudius’ death. You were exhausted from caring for her when I arrived.”
He got up. “Perhaps there was another possibility I’ve been hesitant to accept, but which Julia has insisted upon since my arrival. Were you afraid for her life?”
“No, my lord!” she said, alarmed and frightened by the direction of his thoughts. “No one was ever a threat to her. Not ever.”
“Neither were they a help,” he said and moved away from her.
“They loved Claudius. They love him still.”
“Enough!” He cut her off. “Don’t come to me and plead their cause.”
“They are innocent of what she has accused them,” she said, showing an uncharacteristic boldness in defying him.
He glared at her. “Where is the innocence in a slave discarding duty, Hadassah? Julia’s appeal to send Persis to the galleys has more mercy than what I know should be done. Persis should be killed for not seeing to his mistress’s safety.”
Hadassah stood with a soft gasp. “I knew that was what you were thinking.” She came close to him. “Please, Marcus, I beg of you. Don’t bring the sin of innocent blood upon your head.”
Astonished at what she said and at her use of his familiar name, he stared down at her. Her eyes were shimmering with tears and he wondered at her words. Had she come to plead for Persis, or for him? “Give me one practical reason why I should spare him,” he said, knowing there was none.
“Persis can read and write and cipher,” she said.
“So can others.”
“Lord Claudius trained him to manage all the estate matters.”
He frowned. “Why would a master do that?”
“So that he could be free for his studies. My lord, Lady Julia said you will sell the villa to a senator who would make this an occasional resting place. Wouldn’t a slave with Persis’ knowledge and abilities prove invaluable to an absentee owner?”
He laughed softly. “Neatly argued, little Hadassah.” He considered it and then shook his head. “Julia’s feelings must be taken into account.”
“She needs direction, not vengeance for a wrong never committed against her.”
He knew she was right, but why should the life of one slave matter so much? Carrying out Julia’s wishes in respect to the slaves would give her some peace, but in doing so, he would hurt Hadassah—something he realized he was loath to do.
“This entire tragic fiasco was created by her doing,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He needed a long soak in the baths and a massage.
“You mustn’t think she’s to blame,” Hadassah said.
He was surprised that she defended his sister so readily. “She defied her husband and he went after her. That makes it her fault in the eyes of some.”
“She wasn’t to blame for the wine Claudius drank before he left. She wasn’t to blam
“So by the mere whim of an unseen god, Claudius is dead,” he said dryly.
“Not by whim, my lord.”
“No?” he said with a curt laugh. “All gods act upon their whims. How is yours any different from the others?”
“God is not like the idols men create and credit with their own actions and passions. God doesn’t think and act as men do.” She took a step toward him as though being closer would make him understand. “We’re each single threads woven together in a tapestry God has created. Only he sees the full picture, but not even a sparrow falls without his knowing.”
She spoke not as a slave, but as a woman who believed every word she said. “All those hours you spent talking with Claudius in the privacy of his library have loosened your tongue,” he remarked. She lowered her head, and he reached out to tip her chin up. “You think Claudius’ death is part of some divine plan?”
“You mock me.”
He let her go. “No. I wonder at this god of yours who so freely wipes out his people and kills a man whose only crime was to bore a young wife. I wonder that you would still worship this cruel god of yours and not be wise enough to choose another.”
Hadassah closed her eyes. She failed at every turn to explain. She failed even to drive the doubts from herself.
Why did you take Claudius, Lord? Why, when I felt so close to him? Why now, when I was finally able to gather the courage to speak of you? He was so full of questions, and I tried to explain. But Lord, I hadn’t reached him. He didn’t understand. He didn’t fully believe. Why did you take him? And now I can’t make Marcus Valerian understand, either. He’s bent upon destruction.
“God makes all things work to the good,” she said more to herself than Marcus.
He gave a soft, cynical laugh. “Ah yes. Good has come from this already. Claudius’ death set Julia free.” He saw Hadassah’s hand go to her throat at his callous words. With a pang, he wished he could recall them, knowing he had hurt her, for her grief over Claudius Flaccus’ death was sincere. “A harsh reality,” he said flatly.