A Stray Drop of Blood (24 page)

Tears gathered in Abigail’s eyes, tears of sympathy and compassion. She hated to see her friend like this, in the clutches of pain and despair. And worst of all, she was right. She had nothing to lose. Cleon had been gone almost four months, had been ill a fortnight before that. No one would believe it was his child, and it would not take much consideration to figure out whose it was. And Julia would have been furious, not so much that her maid had gotten pregnant, but that it was by her husband. Elizabeth would have been stoned, at the least.

She gripped her hand tightly and whispered, “I will tell no one, Elizabeth. I swear to you. I will stay with you until the bleeding stops, and I will see that the clothes are destroyed. And you will not die. Tell me how to treat you, my friend. What was it you took? What can I give you to ease the pain?”

Elizabeth feebly tugged on a ribbon tied around her neck, which was enough to tell Abigail to pull it from under her robe. Attached at the bottom was a small sack that opened to reveal some herbs that Abigail did not recognize.

“
Brew,” Elizabeth muttered faintly.

Abigail nodded, stepped out into the hall, and flagged a servant woman. “I need hot water for a tea, and more to clean up in here. Get me some rags that can be thrown away, as well.”

The woman did not seem to mind being ordered around by her; she wasted no time in carrying out the mission. Abigail slipped back into the room while she waited for the supplies, murmuring meaningless, soothing phrases to her friend as she ran her fingertips over her forehead. When the tap sounded on the door ten minutes later, she hurried to fetch the things from the servant, remembering to offer a smile of gratitude.

She brewed the herbs in the water and helped Elizabeth sip it; if her grimace was any indication, it was not a tasty concoction, but she downed it all slowly, with determination. Once that was done, Abigail set about cleaning up the vomit, scrubbing everything as best she could and putting the soiled rags in the hall. Then, she sat down to wait.

She had never been on a death watch before. She prayed she would never be on one again. With each hour that ticked by, she wondered if it would be her friend’s last, and with each minute in that hour she alternately supplicated and cursed her God for letting such things befall his children. For the next day, she got very little rest, and she did not leave Elizabeth’s room for more than five minutes at a time. She knew that Ester returned home, assumed that she would tell Jason what kept her here, and otherwise kept to her vigil.

By sunset the following day, Elizabeth was out of danger. Her sleep was steady and her fever gone. The bleeding had stopped. Abigail dutifully took the stained clothes from bed and woman, hiding them so that she could get them on her way out, then destroy them. She dressed Elizabeth in a clean garment, put fresh sheets beneath her, and woke her long enough to tell her she was leaving.

Elizabeth smiled softly and pressed her friend’s hand. “Thank you, Abigail.” Her eyes said far more than her words.

Abigail kissed her brow, then stood. “I will send others in to see to you, now. You will be well soon. Go back to sleep.”

Elizabeth nodded and was drifting off again by the time Abigail could open the door.

~*~

When Abigail returned Andrew was the first to greet her; he was outside cleaning some of Cleopas’s equipment and rose when he saw her approaching.

“
Abigail,” he greeted, his voice tight. “How is Elizabeth?”

Abigail nodded once. “Better. She will recover.”

“
You look exhausted.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Let us hope you do not get ill, as well.”

She gave him a small, distant smile. “I have no need to worry, my friend. What struck her is not catching. She ate something she should not have and reacted very violently, that is all.”

Andrew studied her for a long minute. “That is good,” he said at last, his tone telling her it was but an introduction to what he truly wanted to say. “I was worried, Abigail. You are a good friend, and you would not think of your own health. It made me think, dear one, of how terrible it would be to lose you. And that made me realize that I have been acting very poorly. I have been treating you as though you are no longer that friend I so love, as though I have already lost you. Forgive me.”

She covered his hand with her own. “Of course, Andrew. It has been a trying time for us all.”

“
But I have only made it harder.” His eyes were apologetic and contrite. “I should be supporting you. I will do better, my love. I will be the friend I have always been.”

She had no doubt that he meant it. What she doubted was his ability to make it so.

~*~

It started as a suspicion. Abigail thought nothing of it at first, but then thought again when not a day passed without nausea. It was true that she was never regular; Dinah had assured her that was normal for someone her age. So when her monthly impurity did not begin on time, she gave it no mind. Two weeks moved by before she thought of it again, and at that point she was too busy worrying about Elizabeth to actually think about it. But in the weeks of her friend’s recovery, she could not keep the thoughts at bay any longer.

When an entire month passed without the bleedings that should have hit her twice, she knew. She was pregnant. And as she looked at Elizabeth’s too-thin face one day, she knew she could not share her burden with anyone. Elizabeth had enough concern of her own and did not need Abigail’s thrown onto her fragile shoulders.

She could have talked to Dinah or Ester, but the thought of telling one of her mother figures that she, unwed and unwilling, was with child was too much for her to consider. Andrew and Simon were out of the question. And besides, if she were going to tell anyone, it should be Jason.

But the thought of telling Jason was even more terrifying. Why, she was not sure. She suspected he would be rather pleased with the news, proud to be the first of his friends to plant his seed and reap an offspring. But by law, her child would be a slave. Even if Jason loved his son or daughter, it would be his belonging more than his child.

She never realized how much that would bother her. If she were married to Andrew and having
his
child, it would also be born a slave; Cleopas’s. But that, somehow, did not seem so bad, perhaps because to the father the baby would be more than that.

Not that such a situation was at all pertinent. She was not having Andrew’s child, and now she never would. She knew that. She remembered clearly what Jason had said: if they had a child, he would never give her up. She would have to follow him wherever he went. He would force her to leave Israel, Jerusalem, Ester, her friends. She would be his and only his. Their child would be, too.

She held her secret close to her chest, where she could worry it like the tassel of a prayer shawl. As long as no one else knew, every option was still available.

One night when she lay beside Jason, listening to his even, deep breathing, the war raged so hot within her that she thought she would burst. She knew not what to do, and her time for deciding was running out. Soon, her figure would start to change. Not drastically perhaps, but Jason would notice.

She closed her eyes, deciding that the following morning she would act. It was market day, and she would be sent to shop. It would give her several hours alone, away from home, when she could go to Elizabeth’s mother and ask her exactly what the risks of the poison were, what was in it, how it worked.

If she did not like what she heard, then she would go home and tell Jason the supposedly-joyous news.

~*~

Abigail pulled her head covering as low over her forehead as she dared, cast her gaze upon the ground. Every step made her heart thud, fear and queasiness swamping her. She had made this trek once before, a week ago. It had been difficult then, but not like this.

In most of the doorways, scantily clad women lurked, either shouting to each other or to the few men out and interested at this early hour. Abigail suppressed a shudder. Never had she envisioned herself walking the same streets as these harlots. She had braved it last week only to give Elizabeth’s mother an update on her daughter’s condition.

If only her reasons today justified her presence so well. If only she did not feel as base as the women selling themselves.

She spotted Lydia in her doorway. Though no longer a young woman, she was still beautiful. Her hair still shone with luster, her skin was still smooth. But her eyes . . . as Abigail drew near, she saw again that Lydia’s eyes were older than the earth underneath her feet.

“
Good morning.” The harlot offered a smile. “I am afraid I have forgotten your name.”

“
Abigail.”

Lydia nodded. “And how is my daughter?”

“
Improving every day.” Abigail drew her lip between her teeth for a moment, forced a swallow. “That is not why I have come.”

Lydia straightened, drilling her with those hard eyes. “What is it, then? Have you followed my daughter’s example and taken up with a married man?”

“
No.” Eyes on the ground, she felt her cheeks burning. “He is not married, but that does not make the situation any easier. I cannot have his child.”

Lydia’s gaze was unforgiving. “Why not? Will your mistress have you stoned? Your master? Will the man hurt you?”

“
No.” This was a mistake, surely. Why had she come here? “That is not the point. If I have this child, our lives will be his forever.”

A bitter laugh slipped between Lydia’s painted lips. “Welcome to the world, beautiful one. Your life is never your own when you look as you do. It is best to belong to someone who will take care of you.” She shook her head, and her curtain of curls swayed with mesmerizing regularity. “I will not help you.” She even turned to walk inside.

“
Wait!” Abigail exclaimed, anger taking the place of shame. “You cannot just dismiss me like that! I can pay you. I have jewelry–”

“
I do not care.” Lydia spun to face her again. “Your life is not a bad one, Abigail. You are not in danger if you have this child, so any solution I can offer you would be a risk you should not take. You could die.”

“
I do not care!” Abigail echoed, but with more fervor. Tears of rage gathered in her eyes. “I feel as though I am already dead. I have no hope anymore.”

“
You are a child and a fool.” Disdain dripped from the downturned corners of her mouth. “You do not endanger your life because of a lack of
hope
. You do not risk sterility because you do not like your master. You have years ahead of you, possibly good years. Do not throw them away.”

“
That is what I am trying to keep from doing.” Fire swept up her spine. She did not pause to think that she was suddenly convinced to an action she had been unsure of simply because someone told her not do it. She did not want to examine her own rebellious spirit. “You do not know me or my situation. Why do you question me? Is it your place to decide my future?”

Lydia cocked her head, examined her steadily. At length, she nodded. “Wait here.”

Abigail’s eyes slid closed as the fire blew out of her spirit. What had she done?

Nothing, not yet. Buying the poison did not necessitate taking it.

But she would have the option.

~*~

Jason and Lentulus plodded down the street. He knew his friend did not want to be spending his day off engaged in this particular enterprise any more than he did, but they both recognized that they had no choice. They all took their friendships more seriously than they would ever admit.

“
If he does this again,” Lentulus said from between clenched teeth, “I will personally turn him into a eunuch.”

Jason laughed, but he was almost convinced it was a good idea. This was not the first time they had had to fetch a drunken and unconscious Menelaus from the home of a harlot. At least the woman knew to find them, rather than turning to an officer that could punish him. But one of these days it might serve him right if they left him or dumped him on the steps to the governor’s palace to see what fate dished out.

“
There it is.” Lentulus nodded toward the crumbling building where they would find their friend.

“
So it is.” Jason scanned the street without interest. “I cannot say as I regret my absence from this area. I–” he cut off abruptly, halted in his steps.

“
Jason?” Lentulus turned with question in his eyes.

“
Go on without me.” Jason took off across the street. It did not occur to him to wonder how he could spot her so quickly in a place he never expected to find her. He was far too busy wondering what exactly Abigail was doing in this part of town. He knew whatever the answer was, it would not satisfy him. It was too dangerous for someone as beautiful as she to wander these streets–the men who frequented them had a tendency to take first and ask the price later.

“
Abigail!” Her eyes flew to him, and he did not miss the panic and the guilt in them. He stopped a foot away, his face taut with anger. “What are you doing here?”

“
I–” Abigail shifted from foot to foot. “I mean–this is Elizabeth’s mother’s. I have been keeping her updated on her daughter’s condition.”