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Chapter 2

The Wedding

"Set me as a seal upon your heart,
as a seal upon your arm,
for love is as strong as death,
jealousy as cruel as the grave.
Its flames are flames of fire,
A most vehement flame.
Many waters cannot quench love,
nor can the floods drown it.
If a man would give for love
all the wealth of his house,
it would be utterly despised."

– Song of Solomon 8:6-7

Jerusalem, Israel, AD 33

It was growing considerably warmer after the cool, winter months, filled with bitter winds and rain. The spring had finally hailed Jerusalem with the soft breeze while the silvery moonlit evening made sweet promises of warmth. Almost as sweet as honey. Not that the man striding purposefully in the garrison paused to consider such simple things. Tall, muscled and broad shouldered, with a face as perfect yet as emotionless as a sculpture's, he surveyed his troops with a fierce glare. They tried to remain still, as expected of them, but could not retain a tremble under their stern superior's cold scrutinizing. The insignia on his breastplate and the crimson plume on his crested helmet bore witness: he was a Roman centurion, and a dangerous one. His subordinates cleared the path for him as he passed by, creating a customary formation in total reverence. Titus knew that every solider in the fortress, whether under his command or not, would not dare cross him. In fact, they were all intimidated by him. Good. That is exactly how he liked to keep it and this evening, they were especially afraid of upsetting him further, since he was already in a very foul mood. How could he not be? After all, the past few months had been an utmost disaster in every shape and form possible. The ship back to Rome could not arrive soon enough. Just two more months and you will be rid of this plaguey land. Still as he observed the last row of his men, Titus could not help the slight envy that surged up him. His friend, also a centurion in the same garrison, inspired admiration in every soldier, not fear. Jason. The proud Roman clenched his teeth as he thought of his close companion. Damn that fool of a man! It was all because of Jason's reckless, silly decision that would cost him a great future. Sighing, Titus knew that as soon as his shift was done – which would be in five minutes – he would have to make a choice: Either stand with his friend no matter what or walk away from his life forever. It was so hard. Oh, why did Jason place him in such a difficult position? Why did he ignore sound reasonings? Truly, were the charms of that siren so strong? So powerful? So manipulative? Love! Love, he had called it! How shameful! How ridiculous!

"Dismissed!" Titus barked the order to his men, sending them scurrying away as he rubbed his fingers at his temples. He turned sharply towards his private quarters. He needed to think. Soon Menelaus, Lentulus, and Apidius would join him and they would have to make a decision together. Jason Visibullis was their closest friend. He was the glue that held their little group together ever since they had left Rome to come in this pestilent city. How could Titus just stand by and watch him ruin his life like that? And because of what? For a slave girl! Groaning, he stopped by the doorway and remembered that fateful, wintery night when Jason had announced his ridiculous intentions to him and the other three. He recalled his anger and outrage at the mere notion of his best friend marrying a Hebrew slave. He had wanted to vomit, to punch his friend, to shake some sense into him. Even now as he remembered it, those emotions seemed to overwhelm him again. The images vividly came flashing back, the echo of their voices rang in his ears again.

It was a cold, winter's night when Menelaus had invited them all to dine with him in the guards' barracks at the governor's palace, where Menelaus had been assigned to serve as one of the officers. Titus had been the first to arrive, with Lentulus and Apidius joining in few minutes after him, but Jason...well, they had waited for him for hours. Titus' irritation grew with each passing minute. Jason's dedication to his home life had become increasingly irksome in his eyes. Menelaus too, often complained about it loud and clear. While Lentulus and Apidius had been more tactful in their delivery, they also sensed that their friend Jason had changed ever since arriving to his homeland.

At last, Jason pulled open the door to the barracks, creeping inside like a child forced to attend lessons he disliked, and was greeted with a blast of heat and raucous laughter. Menelaus had been in the middle of telling them a funny story about his misadventures with one of the harlots he frequented. Titus found the Greek's exaggerated narration quite amusing, but when he glanced at their newly arrived friend, he noted that there was an unimpressed, almost bored look in his aqua eyes. Clenching his jaw, he tried not to give away his annoyance. Lately, that's all Jason had looked like whenever in their company: Bored and unimpressed. It was so obvious, to Titus at least, that Jason no longer missed the revelries of his companions. Probably no longer missed Rome. Was he seriously considering to give up his dreams? Their dreams? Did they – his best friends – become so disagreeable to him? What poison did that slave girl feed him? She was so bewitching and that meant great danger...she had power over men and even men like Titus – unbreakable and cold.

"There he is!" Menelaus sloshed wine into a chalice and thrust it at him the moment he closed the door behind him. "Sit, drink away the chill. I only wish I had a few wenches to help keep us warm." The rowdy Greek was oblivious as usual. What Titus saw right through Jason had been easily missed by the other three.

They were laughing now raising their cups in salute to their friend. Titus smiled half-heartedly and imitated their gesture, staring intently at Jason's reluctance and forceful tuck of his lips. Apidius downed his drink in a single gulp that made him shiver with an intoxicated grin. "It has grown colder than I would like. But perhaps it will grow colder still and freeze the rebels out of the hills, eh?"

At that, Titus snorted from his couch near the fire. "Do not bet on it, my friend. Desperate men feel no cold." Those blasted Jewish rebels had been such a bane lately!

Yet it seemed that the new topic had been to Jason's liking as he spoke up, disinterest vanishing from his features. "I do not like what I have been hearing about Barabbas's band." He set his cup down so he could shrug out of his cloak, then took a seat beside Lentulus. "If Oedipus and the Cyclops taught me anything, it was that a man with no name cannot be trusted. Come now–'Son of a father'? How are we to call out for help and claim it is such a man tormenting us? Our fellows would laugh."

Lentulus's smile held no amusement. "It is a clever name. And he has proven himself to be a clever man, always evading us though everyone knows he is a murderer, a rebel, and a thief."

"He will be caught," Menelaus declared, sure of himself as usual. "And that is the final word on him. This is an eve for forgetting our duties, my friends. If we are going to speak of unpleasantries, let us speak of our own." Even though the Greek was once again being obnoxious, Titus had to agree with his statement. The filthy Jewish rebel was not worth wasting one's breath for.

Menelaus turned his merry eyes on Apidius, teasing smirk on his lips. "Have you heard from Drusilla?"

Apidius sent his friend a mock scowl. "Yes, and your lack of faith in my betrothed is appalling. She is well and anxious to be reunited. If I am not transferred closer to Rome within a year, her parents have agreed to bring her here, and we will be married."

"Well then." Titus raised his drink, subduing an urge to roll his eyes. "To Drusilla the faithful! May she bear our friend many sons!" The others echoed the toast, making Apidius blush crimson.

"And how is your woman, Jason?" Lentulus turned to him with a hint of smile. "I imagine she grows larger by the day."

Jason swirled his wine without taking a drink. He seemed to be lost in daydreams, which had somewhat become a habit, Titus noted. "She is in good spirits." He drawled lazily, lost in deep contemplations.

Menelaus cackled. "He speaks of spirits because it is all she has left at this point. Her figure is gone, likely never to return. Let us see how he brags of his Venus when she is fat and stooping and nursing a babe."

Titus could not help but smirk in agreement. "Yes, Jason, we should all go into town later. You are surely in need of a woman you can get your arms around." He flashed a wicked grin.

But it was then, in this moment, something visibly altered in their friend as he stiffened. "Abigail satisfies me." Jason put his cup aside altogether.

His simple certitude called a halt to the light-hearted laughter. Everyone fell silent.

Oh, for the love of– "By the gods," Titus muttered in realization, "he has fallen in love with her." The word was like acid on his tongue. How could he not notice this before? That his friend's attachment to the slave had grown into something more? His obsession had led him right to his doom it seemed. That woman now held all power.

"Jason." Menelaus leaned forward, face intent. "I thought we had agreed that it was unwise to take so much interest in the slave and her child."

Jason folded his arms across his chest "You all did. I did not."

Apidius tossed his hand into the air. "It is hopeless, though. The child is a bastard."

Jason steepled his fingers and met none of their gazes. "Not if I marry her."

Wait, what? What had the fool said? Titus really had to strain his ears as disbelief coloured his granite of a face. A silence, swirling with undercurrents of fire, rushed the room in a gust, then fled again in the face of the explosion.

"You cannot!" Menelaus and Titus roared together followed by. "Think of your career!" the Roman demanded. "And your future!" the Greek added.

"It is unthinkable, Jason." Titus had grown so agitated he thrust himself from his seat and took to pacing like a caged tiger in Circus Maximus. His Stoic mask shattered as though a glass shattering against hard, marbled floors. "You are accepted in Rome only because your father is Roman. If you went through with this–"

"My son would be a Roman citizen by birth." Jason kept his tone placid.

"He would be despised." Menelaus corrected. "He would be more Hebrew than Roman, and the Hebrews grow more and more rebellious, more apt to be crushed. Mark my words, Jason, the day is not far off when your mother's people are forced from Rome altogether, labeled as the miscreants they are proving themselves to be. If you married this Jewess–"

"This slave!" Titus spat with the emphasis, powerless to stop himself from rectifying Menelaus' choice of word to describe that siren, who in turn continued.

"Your future would be ruined. And you would not be benefitting the child, either. He would be an outcast in Rome."

Jason regarded his friends, sending his gaze around the room slowly, calmly. Menelaus was distraught, Titus enraged, Apidius imploring, Lentulus withdrawn. His complete resolution on the matter was evident. Titus could see it crystal clear as though looking at his own reflection in the mirror. Nothing any of them could do or say would change their friend's mind now. Jason stood smoothly, without concern. "There is much to this world outside of Rome, my friends. I realize my wife and my children would not find a welcoming home there. That is why I will stay in Israel."

Menelaus groaned, horror painting his usually jovial expressions. But hot blood boiled in Titus's cold glare and he looked ready to pummel Jason and beat some sense into his dulled head. "For the love of the gods, Jason!" He cried in fury.

"God, Titus." Jason corrected him with a considerable sternness in his voice. He picked his cloak up again and headed for the door. "There is only one God. And I am beginning to realize the love of Him grows deeper within me than I thought."

Titus could do nothing but stare at him with disbelieving eyes, while the mouth of poor Menelaus hung open so low in a state of shock, that a group of bees could make their hive there.

"Jason." Apidius stood in his way of the exit, the only one still calm. Even Lentulus appeared to be agitated more than Titus had ever seen. "Do not act rashly, my friend. Think of the consequences. Consider what you are about to do."

Jason softened his tone as he looked up into his companion's gaze. "I have been doing so for many weeks, Apidius. You love a woman. Surely you can understand. Would you not forsake all this," he said with an outstretched arm, "for her? The parties? The politics? And really, what else will I be missing from Rome?"

"Your friends," Lentulus answered, his voice somewhat shaky.

Jason turned to face him, feeling nothing but calm. A calm that unsettled Titus. It was as though he was seeing a new face of Jason Visibullis. He could scarcely recognize him anymore. "If my friends would forsake me because of whom I take to wife, then they are not my friends." He gave them a moment to let that sink in. "You will all be invited to the wedding feast. If you cast your loyalties away from me, I will not blame you." With that, he brushed past Apidius and left the room, the building, and the grounds, leaving Titus and the others to gape after him in utter silence.

All this drama had unfolded couple of months ago and now after all the planning the Visibullis household had done for the special occasion, the long-awaited and dreaded wedding feast had arrived and Titus had to make a decision: Either remain loyal to his friend or cast him away from his life once and for all. Shaking his head, he released a deep sigh from his lungs. He would wait for the others to come. Perhaps, with Menelaus, Apidius and Lentulus present, he would have no other choice but to make some kind of a decision.

Never in his life could he imagine that just a few, short minutes could stretch as long hours would. Silence was deafening, encompassing, consuming. Menelaus tapped the hilt of his knife against the table's edge and glanced over at the solemn looking Titus, who drummed his fingers on it, trying to control the racing thoughts inside him. Lentulus sighed, a hand covering his face and the tips of his fingers buried in his hair. Apidius hacked without skill at a block of wood with his own knife. Their silence had covered the room for almost ten minutes.

"This is ridiculous," Menelaus finally grumbled. "We must decide."

Silence again. It ground on for another two minutes. Lentulus showed his face at last. "The general is going, and his wife. Pilate is considering it, too."

"Pilate is going." Menelaus confirmed, who had received the news only an hour before.

Apidius tossed his mutilated wood onto the table. "That is irrelevant. The general and the governor Pontius go for Cleopas' sake. Do not forget; Jason's father is a prefect and they honour him. They do not care who his son weds. But if we go, it will be for Jason. If we go, he will expect us to stand without shame beside him. We go now, and we profess ourselves his friends regardless of any decision he makes. We do not go, and we tell him clearly we are through with him."

Titus regarded him with his Stoic mask in place and then looked over at the Greek, who always had something to say.

Menelaus considered for a moment, running his tongue over his teeth. Then he threw down his knife and stood, the clatter drawing all eyes his way. He set his face into the steely determination he imagined had been on his namesake's countenance when he declared that he would not leave Ilium until he had his fair Helen at his side once more. "Jason is my friend. In Rome, he was higher in class and should not have graced me with his presence. But he did. Who am I to do otherwise in return?" He picked up his cloak and put it around his shoulders. "I am going to the wedding feast."

Titus nodded, but by his grim expression Menelaus was powerless to tell whether it was in agreement or resignation of another lost friend. Until he spoke. "I am going as well."

Lentulus and Apidius looked at each other in relief and stood; their thoughts were obvious. If the mighty Titus Asinius would go with dignity to watch their friend wed a Hebrew slave, then they could, too.

Thus, they made their way to the dreaded wedding.