Chapter One

Chana walked to the caves bringing bread and fruit to Naftili, her brother, and Abba. She hoped Isaac would be up there tending his flock and maybe he could take a break for a little while. She hadn’t seen him in a few days and was anxious to talk to him.

She and Isaac had grown up together, living in neighboring houses and tending their flocks together. He was her best friend. He helped Naftili study for his Hatem Torah. He was almost like one of the family since his father had passed away. She always assumed that they would be betrothed when they came of age.

As they walked Isaac picked a bouquet of daisies and gave them to her.

“Isaac you need to approach Abba. It is time for a Kiddushin (ask Abba for my hand),” Chana said as she smelled the daisies.

“I’m not ready, but soon,” Isaac answered.

“Why can’t you do it tomorrow? I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Isaac grasped Chana’s hands. “And I you, Agapi mou, (my love), but I do not have a home to take you too and my flock is small. I am not ready to have a wife”

“We could still Kiddushin and postpone the Erusin (betrothal) and the Nissu’in (wedding) until you are ready. Please I fear if you don’t Abba will make other arrangements.”

“I am sure your Abba won’t do that, but I will approach him when I come back from tending my flocks tomorrow. Now you need to go home and I to my flock.”

Then lazy days of playing and tending the sheep came to an end, when Abba’s hand had been crushed by a heavy stone at the construction site where he worked. He could no longer work as a stonecutter and everything had changed. At first she and Imma took in sewing and washing. One of the people they did washing for was Matthew. He had buried his third wife just months ago. Of the three wives, none had borne him children. When he saw Imma and Chana delivering his laundry, he approached Abba and suggested a Erusin

When Chana arrived home from the market she passed Matthew on the street in front of her house. He smiled and nodded as she reached the gate. She cringed. She didn’t like Matthew and the attention he paid to Imma and her when they delivered his laundry.

Abba and Imma were sitting at the table when Chana entered. She wondered what was going on, why was Matthew at their house and why were Imma and Abba sitting at the table at midafternoon. They never did that unless something was going on.

“Chana, I am glad you are here. Come sit we need to talk to you,” Abba said.

After she put down her basket and sat on the small wooden stool, Imma took her hand. Her voice shook “Abba, what do you want to talk about? Why was Matthew here?”

“You know how Abba can no longer work as a stonecutter?” Imma said.

“Yes.”

“I need a way to make money, so we can eat and pay our taxes. Matthew came to me with a proposal,” Abba said.

“Matthew offered your Abba a job in his olive groves,” Imma said.

“That is good is it not?” Chana said.

“Yes, but that is not all he proposed,” Abba said.

Chana squeezed Imma’s hand tighter and licked her lips as Abba continued, “He was here for a Kiddushin. He would like to have you as his wife and will let me work at the olive grove if I agree.”

Chana released Imma’s hand and pushed herself away from the table. “No! You can’t. I am supposed to be with Isaac. I can’t wed Matthew.”

“It has been decided,” Abba said.

“We need this Chana. You know how difficult things have been since Abba’s injury,” Imma said.

Chana ran out of the house and up to the fields where Isaac was watching his flocks. She fell into his arms crying.  

 “What is it, Chana? Has something happened; is someone hurt?” Isaac asked as he unwrapped her arms from around his neck and led her to a nearby rock.

Chana sniffed as they sat on the rock. “It’s Matthew. He came to our house last night and had a Kiddushin ceremony with Abba. We will have the Erusin Ceremony in a month and the Nissu’in will follow quickly.” Her shoulders heaved as the crying resumed. She hugged Isaac. “I can’t marry him.”

After Isaac calmed her, he said, “Come let us go and talk to your Abba. Maybe it’s not too late to change things.

Chana and Isaac talked to Abba, but it did no good. She would be betrothed to Matthew.

Chana pulled the needle through the veil that she and Imma were sewing for her betrothal. She looked beyond the gate past the wheat fields to the mountains. She would have rather been with Isaac and Naftili tending the sheep instead of sitting here sewing. She shivered as she stabbed her finger with the needle. “Imma, do I really have to be betrothed to Matthew? He is so old and bent over. He can hardly walk and he has already had three wives.”

 “Chana, pay attention to what you’re doing. You got blood on the veil. It has to be perfect for your betrothal tomorrow,” Imma said.

She looked down at the uneven stitches and the drop of blood. “But Imma, Matthew? Really? Isaac and I had plans and he already has a flock of sheep and is fixing up a house.” Of all the men in the village of Sychar why had Abba chosen Matthew? All she wanted was Isaac.

 Imma dropped her sewing in her lap. “Child, you know it can’t be Isaac. Since Abba can no longer work with the stonecutters, Matthew has offered him a job in his olive groves. Matthew will be a fine husband and you will have many children. Soon you will forget about Isaac.”

“But I don’t even know him except to see him in the village. What will it be like; married to him?”

“I didn’t know your Joseph when we married. My abba arranged it just as yours has. They know best. I am sure a good match has been made for you.”

“Matthew scares me. I heard he beat his last wife.”

 Imma reached over and patted her knee. “Chana you know that is just gossip.”

 “What if I can’t bear him children? What will he do to me?”

“You are young and strong. I’m sure you will have no problem bearing children with Matthew.” Imma picked up her sewing. “Now back to work. We have a lot to do before tomorrow.”

Chana looked back to her sewing. “When do you think Naftili return? Are you sure it’s wise to let him check on the sheep by himself?”

“Naftili will be fine. Focus on your own work and don’t worry about your brother,” Imma answered.

“I don’t know, Imma. It just feels as if something is going to happen.” Naftili, her younger brother, had left earlier this morning for the hills outside of Sychar.

“He has gone with Abba hundreds of times and it is time he takes on some adult responsibility. He is eleven years old and will do his Hatem Torah next year at Passover. Now finish your work and then we will prepare dinner so Naftili can eat when he returns home.”

As Chana bent over her work, she heard the clip-clop of a horse on the street outside and then a pounding on the wooden gate of the enclosure to the courtyard.

“I wonder who that is,” Imma said her voice shaking. As she set aside her sewing Chana saw her hands trembling. “Chana gather your things and go into the house, until I see who it is.”

“Yes Imma.” Chana scurried to the kitchen as the pounding on the gate got louder. She remembered a couple of months ago when the Romans had come to collect taxes. One of the neighbors hadn’t been able to pay and the centurions had stolen their only son in lieu of payment. For weeks afterward, she had nightmares and knew Imma now feared the same would happen to them. Chana hid behind the door to the cooking area and peeked around the corner while Imma opened the gate. A centurion on a tall warhorse cantered through followed by a young man about Chana’s age. The centurion knocked Imma to the ground.

 Chana took a step to help but hesitated remembering why she was there. The centurion circled Imma as she grabbed her wrists pain crossing her face. She’s hurt. She needs my help. Chana darted out of her hiding place, and dodging the horse, she knelt beside her. “Imma…” She turned to the centurion trotting around the courtyard. “What do you mean coming in here like that?” She looked into his eyes and realized her mistake when a cruel grin crossed his face. She tried to run back to her hiding place but the tax collector following the centurion blocked her path.

 She felt Imma’s hand on her back. “Chana, hush! Go back to your sewing,” Imma said as she picked up the veil and shoved it into Chana’s hand. “Go find your Abba.”

 “Yes, child, listen to your Imma. I do as I wish.”

Abba ran through the gate. “I will have your tax money in a few days. I am working again. Could you wait, please?”

“Since you don’t have the money, I will take that goat and kid. That will cover your taxes,” the centurion said as the tax collector came out from behind the horse. He pointed to the beasts indicating the tax collector should take them.

The young man rode up beside the centurion. “Pater, doesn’t Fabia need a new servant? I think that girl will do nicely and if Fabia doesn’t want her, I’m sure I can find something to do with her.”

Acanthus nodded. “Nonus that is an excellent idea. We will take the girl instead.” Acanthus, the centurion, trotted over to the goats and Chana.

“No!” Chana tried to run back to the kitchen, but the centurion reached down and grabbed her by her tunic. The rough fabric from her under-tunic cut into her shoulders as he lifted her onto his horse.

Chana screamed and kicked. “No, I won’t go! Leave me alone!” She writhed as he draped her across the steed. Chana reached for Imma’s outstretched hands. Her fingers slipped through Imma’s as Acanthus rode around the courtyard.

 Imma screamed, “No, you can’t take her! She’s my daughter!” The centurion laughed as he rode out of the courtyard, stomping the vegetables in Imma’s garden. He cantered past the crying Imma and with his free hand, reached down and slapped her across the mouth.

“Imma!” Chana cried through her tears.

“Chana!” Imma whimpered.

Chana struggled to get out of the centurion’s grasp. He just held her all the tighter. She looked back at Imma, the horse’s rough hide rubbing against her cheek. Dust from the dirt yard, stirred by the horse, rose up, choking her as she tried to breathe. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She screamed “Help me,” as they passed through the gate. Her brother Naftili ran into the courtyard through the back gate. He and Imma ran to help her. Abba grabbed Naftili and pushed him to the ground behind him, so the centurion and tax collector wouldn’t see him. The last thing Chana saw was her Imma dropping to her knees and covering her face while Abba remained frozen in place holding Naftili back as he tried to get past.

When they were several miles out of Sychar, Acanthus called for a halt. He dumped Chana off his horse before dismounting himself. Her abdomen ached where it repeatedly bounced off the pommel as they galloped through the dusty streets of Samaria on their way to Capernaum in Galilee. Dust collected and tears stained the pristine white betrothal veil as she lay on the ground sobbing and holding it to her cheek. Why didn’t I listen to Imma and stay hidden? How could I have been so stupid?  She wanted to go home. Tears streamed down her face her shoulders heaved. She wanted Imma, she wanted Isaac, even Matthew. She would even accept being betrothed to Matthew, if only she could go home. She looked at Acanthus and Nonus. The realization hit her like the stone that had crushed Abba’s hand; she would never see them again.

Acanthus nudged her with his caligued foot.  She scooted away from him and watched the young man, dismount and takes a rope from his horse. Trying to stand and run she felt the pull on her veil and hair as Acanthus grabbed her from behind. She tucked the betrothal veil inside her tunic before anyone could grab it.

“Nonus, bring that rope and tie her. We don’t need any trouble from her while we travel,” Acanthus said.

Chana struggled against his control. Nonus walked toward her, with a lascivious look in his eye. She screamed and tried to run, but Acanthus’s hold on her hair only tightened as it was pulled out by its roots. Tears fell from her eyes as the Nonus got in her face. She inhaled and his disgusting breath assaulted her senses. “Aren’t you pretty?”

Acanthus smacked him on the back of the head. “Just tie her up so we can get moving.”

Chana stepped away in an effort to get out of the man’s reach and backed into Acanthus. The powerful muscles in his chest on her back, and the metal studs of his pteruges dug into her abdomen and hips. Nonus grabbed her hands and tied them together before handing the rope to Acanthus.

“All right. Let’s move out. I want to reach Capernaum before dark,” Acanthus said as he mounted his horse. He kicked his horse and trotted down the road pulling Chana behind him.

Several hours later, close to dusk they arrived in Capernaum. Chana’s body ached all over, from being dragged behind Acanthus’s horse. The journey from Sychar had been long and dusty and Acanthus refused to stop and let her rest.

Acanthus rode through the streets of the village; Jews scurried into their small homes like the one Chana’s family lived. As they neared the center of town the houses got larger, larger than what Chana was used to seeing. They came to a stop in front of one of the larger houses and a few servants came running out. One of them took the rope from Acanthus so he could dismount, and another took his horse.

“Majordom, where are my wife and daughter?” Acanthus said to the tall dark-skinned servant standing at the gate to the house.

“They have retired for the night, but I sent one of the slaves to summon them to the courtyard,” the Majordom answered.

Acanthus walked into the courtyard.  All four sides of the courtyard were rooms and stables. The back wall of the enclosure was two stories high. The servant dragged Chana into the courtyard and pushed her to her knees on the pavers.

 Two people walked out of the doorway to the two-story part of the house; a woman, and a girl around Chana’s age.

“What do you want Pater? You’re interrupting my beauty sleep,” the girl said.

Acanthus walked over to where she stood and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Fabia, I have something that will make up for that.” He tugged on the rope that the servant handed him and pulled Chana towards Fabia. “I’ve brought you a new slave.”

“But I didn’t want a new slave and she is disgusting and dirty. How could you bring me something that is so gross?” Fabia said.

“I’m sure you can find some use for her. If not, send her to the stable. She can care for my horse,” Acanthus said as he untied the ropes, binding Chana’s hands.

“Meira, take her and clean her. She can’t serve me looking like that.” Fabia turned and stormed to the stairs.

The slave, named Meira led Chana to the other side of the courtyard where the kitchen was while Acanthus and the woman followed Fabia.

“Who were those other people?” Chana asked Meira as she showed her where to wash herself.

“It was the master’s daughter, Fabia and his wife,” the slave said handing her a rag. “Stay out of their way and you will have no trouble. Be especially cautious of Master Nonus.”

“Why?” Chana heard steps in the courtyard and turned to see Nonus approaching.

He stopped when he was standing in front of Chana. “I’ll be waiting when my sister tires of you.” He brushed his hand through her long hair.

Chana backed away, but he grabbed a handful of hair. He pushed her into the wall. “I’ll be waiting.” He turned and walked away as Chana sank to the ground.

Meira took her hand. “Let me help you. My name is Meira.” Chana stood and the pair walked over to a basin of water so Chana could clean the road dust off.

When she finished washing, she asked, “Why did you say to stay away from Master Nonus?”

“Master Nonus, he likes the slave girls too much. The last girl he liked died after he paid attention to her.”

“Why doesn’t anyone stop him?”

Meira smiled. “No one challenges the master’s son, for fear of punishment. Just stay away from him.”

Chana nodded as Meira led her to the kitchen to get some food and then to a common room where the female slaves slept.

“This is where you will sleep. Here is a clean tunic for tomorrow. You can wash yours tomorrow evening after your chores are done for the day.  Cook expects us up early to serve breakfast so get some sleep.”

Chana sat on the cot “Hashem, where are you? Help me!” In response all she heard was silence and her own crying.