The Centurion's Wife

Chapter 2

Leah felt more than heard the sound of her name. She sat up on her sleeping pallet in the early morning darkness to a whisper so tender it could almost be ignored. It vanished with her return to full wakefulness, but the memory remained, making her feel in some undeniable way that whatever the reason, the call came surrounded in love and gentle caring.

She did not realize until she was on her feet that the fever was gone.

For over a week she had lain in the servants' quarters, so weak she could not rise without help. She had counted the hours by the distance the sun traveled across the tiled floor. Now she washed her face in the basin against the wall and rolled up the pallet as though illness had never touched her. Her face was cool to the touch. She held out her arms and looked at her hands in wonder, for they no longer trembled. She shook her head, wishing she could recall the details of the dream. She was sure it had been a man's voice that had called her name with such kindness.

The dawn was a faint wash upon the eastern sky, still so muted the breaking waves below the palace grounds were just shadows of varying light and darkness. A pair of stars defied the rising sun. Two guards walked the palace perimeter, dousing the night torches as they went.

With almost everyone else in Jerusalem, the palace was utterly still. When Pontius Pilate was present, the house buzzed and the atmosphere was sharp and pungent with tension. Even when the night brought quiet, the place was filled with an air of expectancy, sometimes dread. There was hardly a private moment, especially for a young servant like Leah.

Leah entered the kitchen to find Dorit seated on her pallet. The old woman preferred to sleep close to the fire, though it meant rising with the arrival of the first kitchen slave. But even with the household help away, Dorit never slept past dawn.

The old woman's eyes widened. "Leah, what are you doing away from your sick bed?"

"I feel like I've just emerged from prison."

"You're better, then?"

"More than that, Dorit. I am well."

"Come, let me feel your face." Dorit stood and settled an age-mottled hand upon Leah's forehead. "I feared for you, child."

Leah's response was interrupted by a guard's shout from the direction of the palace gates. Leah straightened to the sound of approaching horses. She instantly recognized the voice that responded, coarsened by many years and battles. "It's Hugo," she remarked.

"That is not possible." Dorit slowly moved across the floor to sit at the table. "He left after you were felled by the fever. Surely he is still in Jerusalem with the prelate."

Leah did not waste time arguing. She bent to the kitchen fire, blew upon the embers until they glowed, and laid down kindling.

Footsteps stamped across the terrace, and Hugo's voice said behind her, "So you're awake. Good. I could kill for a bath."

Pilate's household guards came in all shapes and dispositions. Hugo was Leah's favorite, a grizzled veteran who had been with the prelate since his earliest campaigns northward in Gaul. Hugo had nothing to prove, unlike some of the others.

"There's no fire yet, neither for a bath nor tea." Leah turned and smiled a greeting. "But it's good to see you nonetheless."

The big man grumbled under his breath, then settled with a sigh onto a stool across the table from Dorit. The kitchen was a massive affair, a full forty feet in length and almost as wide. Two storage rooms opened off the eastern wall. The table ran down the kitchen's center, large enough to seat the servants and slaves at once. The guards were not permitted to enter the kitchen or the house proper, save for certain trusted soldiers such as Hugo. The others ate in the guardhouse, plaguing the unfortunate slaves sent to bring them their food.