An Echo in the Darkness by Francine Rivers
Lavinnia came back quickly with what Hadassah wanted. “Thank you, Lavinnia.” She dipped a fresh cloth in the water and wrung it out. She washed Julia’s face gently. Julia didn’t awaken.
Marcus came during the next afternoon. Hadassah rose, making way for him as he sat down beside the bed. He seemed preoccupied, and Hadassah wondered if he was thinking over whatever it was that Ezra Barjachin had come to discuss with him. He took his sister’s limp hand between his and watched her face. When he spoke, Hadassah knew he addressed her.
“Iulius says Mother refuses to eat. She sits on the balcony with her eyes closed. He says he doesn’t know if she’s fasting and praying or simply drifting away.” He bowed his head. “My God,” he said in a voice husky with pain, “am I going to lose both of them at the same time?”
Hadassah’s eyes filled with tears, for his face was lined with weariness and grief. She ached for him. “We must not give up hope, my lord.” She meant the words sincerely, but they sounded hollow in the quiet room with Julia’s still form on the bed.
“Hope,” Marcus said bleakly. “I thought I’d found hope, but I don’t know anymore.” He leaned forward and combed his fingers lightly through the dark hair that lay against the pillow. He stood slowly and leaned down, kissing Julia’s forehead. “Send for me if there’s any change.”
Hadassah took his place at Julia’s side.
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Marcus entered the room as morning light crept over the wall. Hadassah glanced at him and saw how pale and strained his face looked. She rose from the seat beside Julia’s bed so that he could sit beside his sister.
“No change?” he said.
“No, my lord.”
“It’s been three days,” he said grimly. “Please speak with my mother, Azar. She still won’t eat anything, and she was awake most of the night. I’m worried about her. She’s not strong enough to fast.”
“I will pray with her, my lord.” She would do no more than that, for if Phoebe felt God called her to fast and pray, so be it, whatever came. Marcus sat down wearily. She felt his distress and put her hand on his shoulder, pressing lightly. “Trust in the Lord, Marcus. We’re all in his hands, and he’s assured us all things will work to his good purpose.”
“I haven’t your faith, Azar.”
“You’ve faith enough.”
As he started to reach up and cover her hand, she withdrew. He watched her limp toward the door and go out. Depressed, he rested his elbows on the edge of the bed. Raking his fingers through his hair, he held his head.
“Jesus . . . ,” he said, but no other words came. “Jesus . . .” He was too tired and despondent to pray or even think. In the three days since Julia had fallen asleep his mother seemed to be fading away as well. He was going to lose both of them, and he had to resign himself to it.
Jesus . . . , his heart cried yet again.
A gentle wind came in from the balcony and, like a whisper of kindness, brushed Julia’s brow. She drew in a soft breath of it and exhaled, turning her head toward it. Opening her eyes, she saw Marcus sitting beside her bed with his head in his hands. His posture was so utterly dejected, she reached out weakly and brushed her fingertips against him, wanting to give comfort. Marcus started slightly and raised his head. “Julia,” he said hoarsely, staring at her.
“I’m glad you came back,” she said softly. He grasped her hand and held it tightly, kissing it. Tears filled her eyes so she could hardly see his face. He did love her after all. Oh, God, he did love her!
A breeze brushed her face, oddly comforting. She felt so weak and light, as though that soft wind could lift her and carry her away like an autumn leaf. But she wasn’t ready. She was afraid where it would carry her. An oppressive darkness seemed to be closing in around her, and the heaviness within her heart had not eased, even for a moment.
“I’m so sorry for everything, Marcus,” she whispered.
“I know. I forgive you, Julia. Everything is forgotten.”
“Oh, if it were only that easy.”
“It is, little one. Listen to me, Julia. I’ve been such a fool, and I’ve so much to tell you.” And there was so little time left. “Do you remember how Hadassah used to tell you stories? I want to tell you a story, my story.” And thus he began, starting with the days in Rome when three emperors had reigned in a year, and half of his friends had been killed. He spoke of his lust for women, of endless banquets, of drinking, of the games—all of which he had used to sate the hunger within him. He’d lived by the adage “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” Yet nothing had satisfied, nothing had filled the empty aching place inside him.
Then Hadassah had come into their lives, roped among other survivors of the holocaust in Jerusalem. “Mother bought her and gave her to you. There was something different about her from the beginning. Despite everything she’d endured, there was a peace about her. I’d find her at night in the moonlit garden praying to God. For you. For me. For all of us.” He sighed, pressing his sister’s hand between his.
“You weren’t the only one who mocked her.”
Hadassah limped along the upper corridor from Phoebe’s chambers. As she neared Julia’s open door, she heard Marcus speaking indistinctly. She entered quietly, her heart leaping as she saw Julia’s open eyes. She was listening intently to Marcus, who was telling her about the desolation of Jerusalem and an old man who stood crying beside the last remaining remnant of the temple wall.
Marcus glanced up as Azar came into the room. Then he went on, telling his sister of being attacked by robbers on the road to Jericho. He told how Ezra Barjachin and his daughter Taphatha had saved his life. “I told him what Hadassah had told me about the Lord and saw him change, Julia.”
Hadassah heard the deepening emotion in his voice as he told his sister of following the road to the village of Nain. Her hand whitened on her walking stick.
“I found the house where Hadassah lived, and I moved in. I’d wander over the hillsides, then buy wine and drink myself into oblivion. The people must have thought I was mad. They left me alone. No one dared question a Roman. All except one old woman who pestered me constantly.” He gave a hoarse laugh. “Deborah.”
Hadassah sat down heavily on the other side of Julia’s bed. Without looking away from Marcus, Julia’s hand searched for and found hers. Hadassah looked at Marcus through her veil . . . and her tears.
Marcus went on, telling how Deborah had taken him out on the hillside and sent him down to the Sea of Galilee, where he met Paracletos, and then, in Capernaum, Cornelius.
“I have never known a feeling like I had that day, Julia,” he said. “Freedom. Joy beyond all understanding. It was as though I’d been dead my whole life and was suddenly alive.” He put his hand lightly on her forehead. “You can feel that way, too.”
“You didn’t do what I did,” Julia said sadly. “You never sinned the way I sinned.”
Hadassah pressed her hand gently. “We all sin, Julia, and no sin is greater than any other. God sees all sin the same. That’s why he sent Jesus to atone for us. For each of us.”
Julia blinked back tears and looked up at the ceiling. “Neither of you can understand. You’re good. I’m bad.”
“Julia,” Hadassah said. O God, open her ears so that she can hear with her heart! “Do you remember the Samaritan woman at the well? Do you remember Mary of Magdala? The Samaritan woman was the first to know Jesus was the Messiah, Mary the first to know he had risen from the grave.”
“Azar doesn’t understand,” Julia said to her brother. “She doesn’t know. Oh, Marcus, I know you never wanted me to speak of her again, but I can’t help it. I can’t stop thinking of it. I can’t. . . .”
“Then say what you must.”
She looked up at the ceiling again, feeling wretched and lost. “She was my best friend,” she whispered, mouth trembling as she confessed the sin that weighed heaviest on her heart. “She loved me and I sent her to the arena to die because I was jealous. I might as well h
Azar drew back as though stunned. Marcus glanced at her, sensing her turmoil.
Julia blinked back tears as she looked at her brother. “Marcus, you loved her. I heard you ask her to marry you. I told you at the arena I had her killed because she refused you, but it was more than that. I killed Hadassah because she was everything I wasn’t. She was faithful. She was kind. She was pure. No matter how I treated her, or how Calabah and Primus treated her, she never changed.”
Julia fumbled for Marcus’ hand and clutched it tightly. “It cost her to say no to you, Marcus. I know you didn’t think so. You were so angry you didn’t even see me when you left. But it did. I looked in my room, and she was on her knees crying. I didn’t want to tell you.”
Marcus bent his head.
Julia cried, too, remembering. “May her God forgive me. I sat cheering when she died, and when it was over and she was dead and you were gone, I just screamed and screamed. I kept hearing the roar of those lions and I could see her lying dead on the sand. I knew what I’d done. I knew. Oh, God, I know. And Calabah and Primus mocked me for it.”
She shook with weeping. “I can’t be forgiven! How do you ask forgiveness of someone you murdered? Hadassah’s dead. Oh, she’s gone and it’s my fault. My fault.”
Anguished, Marcus looked at Azar. “Give her a drink of mandragora,” he said, not knowing any other way to comfort his sister or be spared more pain himself.
Hadassah was trembling violently. “Leave me alone with her, my lord.”
“Curse you, give her something!”
“Please,” she said, her gentle voice instilled with urgency and command. “Do as I ask.”
“Don’t leave me,” Julia wept when he let go of her hand and rose. “I’m afraid.”
“Go!”
Marcus left, as much to escape the grief as to do as Azar said. He went out and gripped the railing across from Julia’s chamber trying to regain control of his emotions. How much of this was his own fault?
Dear God, how much death had to come from his blindness?
Hadassah sat on the edge of the bed. “You must be calm now, my lady,” she said, stroking Julia’s brow. “I’ll call Marcus back in a moment, but I must talk to you alone.”
Her heart beat fast as she laid Julia’s hand down. “I forgive you, Julia.” She saw the slight frown flicker across Julia’s brow. “I forgive you,” she said again as she lifted her veils.
At first Julia stared at her without recognition, seeing only the terrible, disfiguring scars. Then she looked into Azar’s eyes, and her own widened until they dominated her white face. Drawing in her breath, she strained back.
Hadassah had lived with fear herself and knew the power it had over people. “Don’t be afraid of me, Julia. I’m not a ghost,” she said. “I am alive and I love you.”
Julia’s breathing was rapid. “You’re dead. I saw the lion. I saw your blood.”
“I was badly injured. God spoke to Alexander, and he claimed me at the Door of Death so that I might live.” She put her hand lightly over Julia’s. “I love you.”
“Oh . . . ,” Julia said and with trembling fingers, reached up and touched Hadassah’s face. “I’m sorry. Oh, Hadassah, I’m so sorry.” She wept again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Julia, you needn’t be sorry anymore,” Hadassah’s voice was clear, though it trembled with emotion. “I forgave you everything before I ever walked into the arena. I blessed your name because it was through you, through being sent to the arena, that God freed me from my fear.” She told Julia of her fear of Jerusalem and persecution should anyone discover she was a Christian. She told her of her struggle to bring the Good News to Julia and her family while being afraid to let anyone know of her faith in Jesus.
“And then I beat you,” Julia said, ashamed. “I called you names and reviled you.” How could Hadassah still say she loved her? How could she?
Hadassah took Julia’s hand and kissed her palm. “Think no more of it. We’ve other matters more important now. You must make your choice. I’ve always prayed for you. I have pleaded with God that he would open your eyes and heart. Do you believe in Jesus?”
“Oh, Hadassah,” Julia said, feeling the weight of her burdens being lifted. “How can I deny he exists when only he could have saved you from death?” She touched her cheek and lips. “I’m so glad. I’m so glad your Jesus loved you so much he couldn’t let you die.”
Tears filled Hadassah’s eyes. “Not my Jesus, Julia. Our Jesus. Don’t you see? God didn’t spare my life for me. He spared my life for you.”
Julia blinked, amazed and, for the first time she could remember, hope swept over her.
Hadassah touched the ill woman’s pale cheek. “Why else would God have done such a miracle? What other purpose could there be? Why else would he send me here for you?”
Julia’s face was transfixed. “Despite it all?”
Hadassah laughed softly in joy. “Oh yes! That’s the almighty God he is.” She took Julia’s hand firmly between hers. “Despite ourselves, he loves us! You’ve confessed your sins, Julia. Will you confess your faith in him? He’s knocked at the door of your heart all your life. Let him in, beloved. Please, Julia. Let him in.”
“How can I not?” Julia said, holding tightly to Hadassah’s hand and seeing the love shining in her eyes. “O God, O Jesus, please.” Even as she uttered the words, it was as though something rushed into her very being, filling her, lifting her, overwhelming her. She felt lighter. She felt free. And she felt weak, so very weak. Her hand loosened. “So easy,” she said with a sigh.
Hadassah stroked her cheek and smiled. “Awake, you who sleep, and arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light.”
Julia held Hadassah’s hand against her heart. “It shouldn’t be so easy.”
“Jesus did all the work.”
“She must be baptized,” a voice said from behind her, and Hadassah stiffened slightly, her heart jumping. Marcus! She let go of Julia’s hand and covered her face quickly with the veils.
“Yes,” she said shakily and rose, pain shooting up her bad leg. Grasping her walking stick, she stepped back from the bed. Had he seen her face? She couldn’t bear it if he had.
“Hadassah’s alive,” Julia said, smiling radiantly up at Marcus as he leaned down to her.
He had never seen her eyes shine as they did now. “I know, Julia. I heard.” He couldn’t look at Hadassah, for he knew if he did, he would forget everything and want to know why she had hidden herself from him. His heart pounded wildly and his throat was suddenly dry. Joy and rage churned within him, and one word screamed in his mind: Why?
Why hadn’t she revealed herself to him? Why hadn’t she told him she was alive? Why had she left him in his despair?
But now was not the time to get the answers he so desperately wanted. Now was the time to concentrate on Julia. One glance at Hadassah and Marcus knew he would forget Julia in her desperate need—and so he didn’t glance at her or speak to her. He simply lifted his sister gently, cradling her against his heart. Julia was so light she was like a child in his arms.
Julia stretched out her hand toward Hadassah. “Come with me.”
“I’ll follow,” Hadassah assured her, unable to look into Marcus’ face. He hesitated at the door and glanced back at her. “Don’t wait for me, my lord,” she said. “Go. Go now.”
Marcus carried Julia along the upper corridor and down the stairs. He crossed the peristyle, which was filled with sunlight, and went down another corridor that led through more archways to the family baths. Without removing his sandals, he went down the marble steps. The cool water rose around his legs and hips, dampening Julia’s thin gown.
“God forgive me if I overstep myself in doing this,” Marcus said aloud, “but there’s none other here.” He lifted Julia slightly as he bent his head and kissed her. Then he lowered his sister into the water, immersing her. “I baptize you in the name of the F
“Oh Marcus,” Julia said softly in wonder. Her eyes seemed to look past him, their focus on something he could not see.
Marcus pushed back through the water until he reached the steps. He walked up them and sat down on the edge of the pool, his sister cradled in his lap.
He heard Hadassah’s steps and glanced up as she entered the bath chamber. His heart beat heavily. She hesitated and then continued toward him, her walking stick tapping the marble tiles. “It is done,” he said hoarsely, and his voice echoed softly off the muraled walls.
“Praise the Lord,” she said with a soft sigh of relief.
Suddenly Julia’s breathing changed. It became more rapid, as though she was excited by something. Her eyes opened wide. “Oh! Can you see them?”
“See what, little one?” Marcus said, holding her closer, his hand lightly cupping her damp face.
“They’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her face filled with awe. “So beautiful.” She blinked sleepily. “Oh, Marcus, they’re singing. . . .” Her face softened and became beautiful again. She gave a long, deep sigh and closed her eyes. Her body relaxed completely in Marcus’ arms, her head resting against his shoulder.
“All is well,” Hadassah said, bowing her head in thanksgiving. She pressed her hand against her heart and closed her eyes. “She is home.”
“Thank God,” said a familiar voice that trembled with emotion.
Marcus glanced up sharply and saw the woman standing in the archway, Iulius just behind her.
“Mother!”
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Phoebe came forward without assistance. “I knew the moment she accepted Christ,” she said, looking at her daughter’s face—a sweet, beautiful child, sleeping. “Feeling and strength returned to my body.”
Marcus lifted Julia and stepped out of the water, carrying her to his mother. Tears streamed down Phoebe’s cheeks, but she was smiling, her eyes shining. “Oh, how I prayed I would see this day,” she said and kissed Julia’s brow. “And I have. I have. . . .” She began to weep. “Oh, my child . . . my child . . .”