An Echo in the Darkness by Francine Rivers
“Nothing.”
She swallowed. “I’d bring her back if I could.”
He was silent for a long moment. “I can’t be in this room with you unless we reach an understanding. We won’t speak of Hadassah ever again. Do you understand me?”
She felt as though he had put upon her the sentence of death. “I understand,” she said, her heart so heavy it was like a stone.
Neither spoke for a long moment.
“Have you seen Mother lately?” Marcus said with a faint lift of one brow.
“Azar took me in to her yesterday morning,” Julia said in a dull voice. “It was nice to sit with her on the balcony and close my eyes and pretend things were the way they used to be.”
“She’s content.”
“So it seems. Strange, isn’t it?” Julia’s mouth jerked as she fought the tumultuous feelings. Despite his neutral conversation, she knew: He hated her and would continue to hate her whatever he said. And why shouldn’t he? She had to accept it. She almost wished her brother hadn’t come. Not seeing him had been painful enough. Seeing him and feeling the wall between them was agony.
The door opened again, and Lavinnia entered with a tray. She was smiling and talking softly to someone behind her. She paused in the doorway as she saw Marcus, her cheeks blooming with color.
Julia recognized the look. How many other household servants had fallen in love with Marcus? Hadassah had only been one of many. “Put the tray on the table, Lavinnia, thank you.” The girl quickly obeyed and departed, stepping past Azar as she entered the room.
“Lord Marcus,” Azar said. “Good afternoon.”
Her voice was warm and welcoming, drawing a smile from him. “Good afternoon, Lady Azar.”
She limped across the room and set her walking stick aside. She touched Julia’s shoulder. It was the merest brush of her fingers, but Julia relaxed as though reassured. She smiled up at the veiled woman, and Azar touched her forehead. “The fever has returned, my lady,” she said and took the damp cloth from where Julia had dropped it. She set it aside and took up a fresh one, dipping it into the bowl of cool water. Wringing it out, she dabbed Julia’s face lightly.
Julia lay back again, the tension Marcus hadn’t noticed until then going out of her. She held her hand out and Azar took it, sitting on the edge of the sleeping couch. She lightly brushed the damp tendrils of hair back from Julia’s temples and then turned her head toward him.
“I looked in on your mother a few minutes ago, my lord. Iulius put seed out for the birds. They come and sit on the wall where she can watch them.”
“She always liked birds,” he said, thankful for her presence. It eased the tension between him and his sister.
“A pair of turtledoves was looking over the stonework. Perhaps they’ll nest there.”
“Remember in Rome, Marcus, how Mother loved to work in the flower garden and watch the birds,” Julia said wistfully. “Oh, Azar, I wish you could have seen it. It was so pretty there. You’d have loved it.”
Marcus remembered Hadassah going out into the moonlit garden to prostrate herself before the Lord.
“There were trees that bloomed each spring,” Julia went on, “and a stone walkway that wound around the flowerbeds. Mother even had a fanum built near the west wall.” Julia looked at Marcus. “Was it the same when you returned?”
“It was the same, but empty. I was told when I returned from Palestine that Mother released her rights to the villa to one of Father’s old friends in the Senate on the agreement that the proceeds would be used for the poor.”
“Oh,” Julia said, feeling a deep pang of loss. “I was so happy there as a child. I used to run along the pathways.” To think of others living there was unsettling. Yet, she saw it was a good thing. Perhaps her mother had felt the same pleasant feeling she had when she had given Prometheus his freedom.
As he listened to Julia, Marcus was filled with memories as well. He remembered his sister, young and full of high spirits, racing to him and leaping into his arms. She had been innocent of the world then, eager to hear every detail of his adventures. She drank in the gossip of her friend Olympia and cajoled him into taking her to the games on the sly. He had agreed because he thought his father’s restrictions unreasonable at the time. Now he wondered if Father hadn’t seen Julia more clearly than he ever had. He had never considered what the effects might be of his own less-than-perfect example.
“Have you found the man who attacked you?” Julia asked, and he was grateful to have his thoughts diverted.
“I’ve had neither the time nor inclination to trace him.”
“But you must, Marcus. He could try again.”
“I’ll know him the next time I see him. That’ll be warning enough.”
“What if you don’t see him first?” she said, worried. “There’s another possibility. What if this Arab is merely a hireling for someone else? There must be reason behind his mad attack. You must find him and learn what it is so you can destroy your enemies before they destroy you.”
Marcus glanced at Azar. Though she said nothing and did nothing, he sensed she was disturbed by the course of this conversation. “He may have been a robber and nothing more,” he said, wanting to dismiss the occurrence entirely.
“You aren’t without resources, Marcus. You could find him if you chose to do so.”
“If I chose to do so,” he said pointedly.
Her expression fell at his brusqueness. “I didn’t mean to argue, Marcus. I just don’t want you hurt again.”
He smiled down at her with an ironic twist of his mouth. No one had ever hurt him as much as she had done.
Comprehending that look, Julia went cold inside. She lowered her head.
Azar put her hand over Julia’s and raised her head. Marcus could feel her looking at him through that veil. He couldn’t see her face but felt her disappointment. A muscle jerked in his jaw. “I’ve work to do,” he said tersely. Nodding to Azar, he walked across the room toward the door.
“Will you come visit me again, Marcus?” Julia said plaintively.
Marcus strode from the room without answering.
46
Julia finally slept, and Azar left Lavinnia to watch over her so that she could go down to the alcove in the peristyle and pray in solitude. Rashid was uppermost in her mind, but she was not so foolish she didn’t recognize the danger to herself should Marcus trace the Arab. Rashid’s rash act might also put Alexander at risk.
Hadassah considered revealing her identity to Julia and prayed for the Lord’s guidance. What came to her was the conviction that Julia would assume some plot on the lives of her family members should she tell her who she was and her connection with the Arab. Even imagined wrongs had been enough for Julia to retaliate in the past. If her suspicions were aroused now, calamity could fall swiftly upon everyone. If that happened, what would become of Julia?
Be still and know that I am God, said the Spirit within Hadassah. And so she obeyed, waiting upon him while laying her hopes bare.
Hadassah heard a servant open the front door and greet Marcus. Her senses quickened. He had left the house after seeing Julia and been away all evening. As he walked through the antechamber, she saw him glance her way and stop. She sat back against the wall of the small alcove, her heart beating rapidly.
Unclasping the gold brooch at his shoulder, Marcus let the servant remove his cloak. As he entered the peristyle, Hadassah rose. “Please sit,” he said and took the other side of the curved marble bench. He leaned back with a sigh, his hand over his side.
Hadassah studied his pale, weary face. “Your wound—”
“Is fine,” he said curtly. “Iulius changed the dressing before I left.”
“You must allow yourself time to heal, my lord.”
“I am not a man accustomed to sitting around for long.”
“So I see.”
He heard the softening in her tone and smiled. He glanced around the small alcove remembering how often he had sat he
“Thank you for seeing Julia,” Hadassah said.
Drawing back to the present, he looked at Azar. “The visit didn’t go very well,” he said wryly. He found it strange that he felt so comfortable with a woman he scarcely knew. She intrigued him more each time he saw her.
“It’s a beginning.”
“Implying I should continue.” His mouth curved sardonically. “I’m not sure I want to repeat the experience.” His emotions had been raw all evening. He kept seeing Julia’s face, white and strained, eyes pleading for something he didn’t feel he could ever give. “It might be better if I left her alone.”
“Better for whom?”
“You are direct, aren’t you?” he said dryly. “Better for both of us. Some memories are best left buried.”
Hadassah understood only too well. She had had to set her mind from the beginning to lay aside some of the things Julia had done to her and others. It hadn’t been easy. Even while leaning on the Lord, there had been moments of great struggle. Yet sometimes, when she least expected it, Julia would surprise her with sweetness. Marcus needed to see that and be reminded.
“What was your sister like as a child?”
Marcus smiled bitterly. “Adorable.”
“Tell me about her.”
He did, drawing from their early life in Rome, of her spontaneity and hunger for life, her quick laughter and high spirits. As he talked, his sadness deepened, for he had loved his sister then, loved her with a fierce protectiveness and pride.
“And then she met Calabah,” he said. “Olympia introduced them. I knew of Calabah long before Julia met her. She was well known in Rome. Rumors abounded that she murdered her husband, but nothing was ever substantiated. She had friends in high places. Julia wasn’t the first to be corrupted by her influence, nor will she be the last.”
“Do you think Julia’s corruption was all Calabah’s doing?” Hadassah said softly.
He looked at her, sensing a subtle challenge. Conceding, he let out his breath and put his head back again. “I had part in it,” he confessed.
“What part, my lord?”
“I introduced Julia to the games, much to my father’s displeasure. I think he would’ve been happy to keep Julia from the world. Looking back now, perhaps he was right after all. Some come to realize the depravity of what they see and turn away from it. Others become seared, numb to the suffering of others. They need more and more excitement to satisfy them, until nothing satisfies. Julia is like that.”
“You no longer attend the games?”
“I haven’t in a long, long time. I lost my taste for them rather suddenly.” Just as he had lost the taste for other things he had once found desirable.
What might life have been had Hadassah lived? He shared her faith now. . . .
But if she had lived, you never would have gone on your quest to find God.
The sudden thought disturbed him.
“You look perplexed, my lord.”
“Many things have changed within me since I went to Galilee.”
“Galilee, my lord?”
He laughed. “You’re surprised. It’s understandable. Everyone thought I was mad. Why would a Roman go willingly to Palestine.” His smile fell. “I had my reasons. I sailed to Caesarea Maritima, then rode to Jerusalem. What a city of death that place is. I didn’t stay long. I spent some weeks in Jericho with a Jewish family and then traveled on to Nain.” He smiled in fond amusement, remembering old Deborah.
“Nain?”
“You’ve heard of it? That’s surprising. It’s nothing but a speck of dust and little else. An old woman sent me on my way to the Sea of Galilee.” He saw the way Azar wove her fingers together tightly and wondered what agitated her so about his story.
“Why did you go?” she said.
“There was once a young slave girl in this house,” he said, looking around him. “She believed in Jesus Christ as the Son of the living God. I wanted to find out if he really existed.”
“And did you?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “The very moment I gave up hope of ever doing so,” he said. “A man named Paracletos appeared to me and answered my questions. He told me to go to Capernaum where a man would be waiting for me at the gate. There was such a man, and his name was Cornelius. He baptized me in the Sea of Galilee and said God wanted me to return to Ephesus. So . . .” He gave her a rueful smile and spread his hands in self-deprecation. “Here I am.”
“Oh, my lord,” she murmured, and the warmth and joy of her voice reminded him of what he had felt when he had come up out of the sea, a new creation. “I didn’t know.”
He gave a dry laugh. “Why should you? I’m not much of a Christian.”
“Oh, but the Lord is faithful, Marcus. He will mold you into his vessel.”
His smile died. “If I don’t shatter it to pieces first.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “I know what God wants of me. I’m just not willing to do it. Not now. Maybe never.”
Tears coursed down her cheeks. She leaned forward and took his hands, her own trembling. “Of ourselves, we can do nothing. It is God in us who works his purpose.”
The love in her voice warmed his entire body. Her hands were strong and smooth. He didn’t want to let go of her. His eyes burned, for Julia was right: Azar was very much like Hadassah. His heart raced. He wished he could see her face.
Hadassah withdrew her hands from his slowly and leaned back.
Marcus watched Azar clasp her hands in her lap. He could feel her tension and wished she could relax and talk to him as she did with his sister. “I’d like to know more about you,” he said softly.
“You know me well enough already, my lord.”
He smiled slightly, tilting his head. The same smile had won and broken the hearts of countless other women. “I know you practiced medicine with Alexander Democedes Amandinus, but little more.”
“I’m here for Julia, my lord.”
“Ah yes. Julia . . .” He sighed and leaned back against the wall, his face shuttered by shadows.
“Have you told her you’ve accepted Jesus as your Savior, my lord?”
“A neat turn of conversation.” He gave a soft laugh. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’d never believe it. I’m not sure I do. Perhaps it was all a dream and never really happened. What I felt in Galilee I certainly don’t feel now.”
“What do you feel?”
“At odds with life.”
“That’s because you’re no longer of the world.”
His mouth curved wryly. “I felt at odds with life long before I went to Palestine, Azar. My discontent goes back as far as I can remember.”
“God chooses his children from before the foundation of the earth. You were filled with thirst for the living water from birth, Marcus. Until you sought Christ, you failed to find a way to fill the emptiness within you. Only Jesus suffices. It’s my prayer that Julia is one of his chosen as well.”
“I doubt it.”
“Then why is she so consumed with sorrow?”
“Because she’s dying of a disease she brought on herself. Don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s regret over anything she ever did.”
“Isn’t it possible that the hunger that has driven you through life is the same hunger that’s driving your sister?”
“Let’s discuss something else.”
“There’s nothing else more important than that you forgive your sister.”
“I don’t want to talk about this!”
“She’s flesh of your flesh. If her sorrow is according to the will of God, it will produce a repentance without regret leading to salvation.”
“And if not?” he challenged coldly, incensed by her lack of obedience to his will.
“Then she will die without knowing Christ. She will stand before God Almighty and be judged for her sins. Is that what you want,
Disturbed, he looked away, a muscle jerking in his cheek.
“My lord,” Azar said gently, “God sent you home to bring Julia the Good News.”
“Then you tell her.”
“I have. I have told her over and over. And I will keep telling her for as long as God allows.”
He heard tears in her voice. “If she hungers for God, she’ll find God the same way I did.”
“Not without your forgiveness, Marcus.”
“Let God forgive her!”
“He will if she but asks, but sometimes people need to be taken by the hand and guided to that moment because they’re too afraid to take the step themselves. Take her by the hand.”
He made a fist. “Curse you,” he breathed. “Curse you for doing this to me.”
Stunned and hurt, she fell silent.
He felt her withdrawal. “I’m sorry,” he said, shutting his eyes. “It’s not you I’m angry with. God asks too much.”
“Does he? Jesus forgave the men who drove the nails into his hands and feet. He forgave the people who mocked him as he hung on the cross. He even forgave the disciples for deserting him. Aren’t we all like that, Marcus? Fallible. Afraid. Weak in our faith. And still Jesus loves us and points the way to real freedom and what it means.” She leaned forward slightly, and he felt her earnestness. “God forgave you in order that you forgive her.”
Marcus rose, angry to be so tormented. He had hoped for a few minutes of interesting conversation, not words to blister his conscience and renew his grief.
“You know in part, Lady Azar. I know the whole. If you knew everything Julia had ever done, you’d understand why I feel as I do.”
“Then tell me.”
“Leave well enough alone!”
“Is it well?”
“Julia can make her own confessions. And if it’s forgiveness she needs, she can go to God for it!”
Hadassah watched him walk away. With a heavy heart, she bowed her head once more in prayer. She remained in the small alcove long after the servants were asleep. She finally rose to go to her own bed.