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Chapter 3

The Bride, The Groom, The Friend

"So then, they are no longer two but one flesh.

Therefore what God has joined together, let not man separate."

– Matthew 19:6

By the time Titus and the rest of his companions arrived at the prefect's dwelling, where Jason's wedding celebration was to be held, the feast was already underway. Music spilled onto the dusk-hued street, blending with the rays of the old sun. There was singing, the instruments were being played in a traditional Hebrew fashion. A male singer stood on a platform, with a harp in hand as he dedicated an ancient ballad to the bride and the groom. The song was in Hebrew, but Titus managed to catch 'eyes like doves' and 'Tirzah' a Hebrew word for 'beloved'. Laughter reached his ears, and many voices, mingling with the music like cacophony. When they reached the main entrance, the door was opened by the old, smiling slave he had seen a handful of times when visiting the Visibullis household.

"Welcome." He ushered them indoors.

They all removed their cloaks and handed them to him, looking around and at each other as he led them in to where the feast was taking place. The aroma of food probably reminded Menelaus that they had not eaten in their haste to sit around and contemplate all afternoon, for he had spoken up. "I am hungry as a wolf." Petting his belly, to no doubt, drown out the grumbling protests of having been empty for so long. A sardonic smirk slipped on Titus' lips as he contemplated on the word that Menelaus had used. Hungry as a wolf. A wolf. Since his arrival and appointment as a centurion in Jerusalem, there were only two slurs that the Jews directed at him and all of his 'heathen' comrades. Roman dog! Roman wolf! It was ironic that Menelaus now had referred to himself as one. And while the term 'dog' especially 'a dirty dog' was unappreciated but most of the time ignored, Titus did not mind the 'wolf' title at all. After all, did not the wise, caring She-Wolf nurse the founders of his Sanctae Urbis Romae?

His patriotic musings were interrupted when Lentulus pointed out Jason with a gasp. "He looks so happy." Their little group of four had not been noticed as soon as they entered, which was unsurprising given the number of people within, some like Pilate and the general, who were far more important than they. This gave them a moment to look around, taking in the other guests and the bride and the bridegroom. Jason was looking his best, decked out in wedding array and smiling with a light Titus had never seen in him before. And judging by the faces and reactions of the rest of his companions, they too seemed to share Titus' impression.

"He is happy." Awe coloured Menelaus' tone as he confirmed Lentulus' first remark.

"So it seems." Titus was unable to suppress a growl as he looked toward the corner of the room, where his full attention had turned. There she stood...Jason's Venus. He did not know whether to resign himself to anger that surged or forget his bitterness and just focus on her allure instead. Her hair, long thick and glossy, hung around her in cascading, smooth waves. Her smile was youthful, innocent, which only enhanced her lovely features. A slave, having an air of a mistress. A mere girl, presenting herself as a queen. Was this how Cleopatra looked like when she entered the city of Rome with a lovechild of Caesar, and then bewitched Marcus Antonius? What right did she have to behave like a lady of this Roman household when she was nothing but a lowly, Hebrew slave? So what if she had a face that could rival any goddess? That did not automatically make her a capable wife. A play thing, a distraction, a concubine...sure. But not a wife. And certainly not a wife of someone with so many great prospects like Jason Visibullis. Menelaus turned to see what had snagged his friend's disapproval and saw Abigail. She, too, was smiling, but the glow on her face was not that of complete happiness as Jason's was, but rather of peace. The corner's of Titus's mouth turned up, even when he tried to mask his chiseled countenance. "I am not so certain his little bride is as content."

"Do not be absurd." Apidius dismissed lightheartedly as he stepped up beside them. "She is still so lovely, even with the extra curve of pregnancy. Have you ever seen such a beautiful face?"

The others raised their eyebrows. Menelaus was unable to resist a joke. "I would kill for Drusilla's reaction right now." Lentulus chuckled at the teasing comment, Titus only allowed a rigid smile to appear on his face, while Apidius blushed, shaking his head.

"If my beloved were here, she would know I only speak as any assessor of art and nothing more."

"Doubtful, my friend." Titus spoke coolly. "Jealousy is the second nature to female species. And nothing pits them against each other like the comparison of their looks."

Menelaus agreed with a chortle. "Work of art, he said. Foolish, Apidius. Do you really think Drusilla would forget such an insult to her vanity?"

"She is not vain!"

At that point Jason finally spotted the four, and his joyful grin grew even broader as he left his father's side to greet them, almost jogging towards them. "My friends!" He clasped each of their wrists in turn. "I am so glad you came!" Had he any doubts that they would show up? But then again, judging from their horrified reaction when he first announced his intention to marry the girl, Jason had every reason to doubt them. "Come, get something to eat. Dinah's dishes could be put on the emperor's table, and she has been busy with the preparations for days." He was fawning over a mere cook now? When had Jason gone so soft?

"Oh, thank you. Only the gods know how empty my poor belly is." Relieved Menelaus let himself be ushered to the tables of food as did the other three. Titus trailed after them in silence and spotted Jason's mother moving to join them. Esther Visibullis, the mistress of the home. Another beautiful Hebrew woman, who wore a smile as bright as her son's. It was no wonder the Visibullis men were so taken with the Hebrew women. She and Abigail were perfect examples of feminine grace and beauty.

"Welcome." Her countenance shone like a soft, bright candle in the middle of darkness. "Jason has spoken much of you. Thank you for joining us on this joyous day."

Menelaus replied politely if without enthusiasm, and focused on the food. Apidius and Lentulus answered more graciously, but Titus only gave her a small nod of acknowledgement. It was evident that Cleopas Visibullis had spared no expense, proving his approval of the marriage between Jason and the slave girl. The wine was strong and fine and free-flowing, the house was dressed in festivity, and Titus felt like an island of depression in the midst of a sea of gaiety. Strangely enough, Menelaus, who was usually the soul of the party, looked just as miserable as he.

"I hope his lovely wench appreciates what he has given up for her," he muttered to Titus once he had cleaned off his plate and gotten some drink into his stomach.

A menacing gleam entered Titus's eyes at that. An idea formed. Something that he had learned from his own father, whenever he wished to intimidate household slaves or even his political rivals in the Senate. "Perhaps we should make sure of it." He began to maneuver toward the bride, Menelaus a step behind him. Titus managed the hunt as though it was unintentional, greeting his other acquaintances in the room, and managing to look almost surprised when he found himself before Abigail, who was at the moment standing at the edge of the room, surveying her wedding celebration calmly. Menelaus drew even with Titus, effectively cutting off the young doe's avenue of escape.

Stopping in front of the bride, Titus clenched his jaw and gritted through his teeth. "Congratulations, Abigail." He took her small hand as all the other guests had done and bowed over it.

She straightened her spine and jerked her hand free from him, growing uneasy. Menelaus claimed it next and gave her a feral smile. Perhaps, if it were anyone but Jason she had ruined, Titus could have admired the determination in her sienna eyes.

"Thank you for coming." She said and reclaimed her hand again. "Jason was not sure you would."

"Neither were we." Titus made the admission sound like an accusation as he ran his eyes deliberately down her. How convenient. Using a child to ensnare Jason into marriage. Oh, the little temptress.

"It is hard to watch one's friend sacrifice a brilliant career," Menelaus growled, "for a woman."

Abigail's shoulders moved back, and her chin came up to reveal eyes throwing sparks that illuminated her whole face. She changed in a moment from Venus to Juno, angry and prepared to shift the world because of it. "I did not ask for the sacrifice."

Titus narrowed his eyes at her, hating the sharp edge in her voice. Who did she think she was to speak to them that way?

Menelaus lifted a brow and threw in a question, filled with suspicion. "Did you oppose it?"

She let out a breath of a laugh, almost in a mocking way. Her confidence was surprising. "Oppose it? As I am sure you have not forgotten, I was a slave. I had no say. He loves me and decided to marry me, so here we are."

He loves me and decided to marry me. Perhaps, her demure attitude might have fooled Jason when he first met her but Titus knew better, especially now. And something in her pronouncement verified what he had suspected these past few weeks. "You do not love him." Titus stated it, but it was obviously a challenge.

She turned from the Greek and on the Roman with all of her fury, somehow managing to keep it quiet and focused on its target. "He was my master, and now he is my husband. I will honour him and respect him and serve him."

Ahh, so she had chosen to deflect his statement. That could only mean one thing. "But you do not love him." Titus sounded smug now.

A hand settled protectively over her unborn babe. "He is my life. Please excuse me." She did not wait for their permission but slipped quickly between them and disappeared in the crowd, a doe seamlessly leaping through the forest.

"Well, she has spirit." Menelaus watched her go with a hint of a smile. He knew few men who would dare stand up to Titus Asinius as she had. "I must grant her that."

Titus just shook his head as he glared after the bride. "Such women are a bane to men. They possess and conquer."

"And bear sons who can do the same. Jason's son will be strong and well taught, at the least." It appeared now Menelaus decided to see positivity in all this, which started to irk Titus' nerves.

"In what culture, though?" The Roman crossed his arms forbiddingly over his chest. "If she prevails with her Hebrew traditions, the child will be caught and crushed by the true conquerors, which is the Roman power. You know that well enough."

Menelaus shrugged. "Jason will not allow it. He is Roman in his thoughts, Titus, on that we all agree. He will see that his sons are, too."

Again, Titus had a difficult time imagining a good outcome out of this debacle. If anything, it was Abigail having her way not Jason. "He is off to a great beginning, marrying his Jewess slave in the Hebrew fashion."

Menelaus could only laugh at his friend's obvious abhorrence and clap a hand to his shoulder. "Forget it, Titus. Let us eat and drink and enjoy our friend's present. It is our only role now. By attending the feast, we made our choice. We must support him no matter what."

He despised when the Greek made sense. Nodding, Titus sent one last scathing glance at the bride before following him back into the crowd.

"So, does this mean you will be trading your toga for a ridiculously long tunic from now on?" Titus leaned against the wall, lazily sipping wine from his chalice as he surveyed the dancing guests for a moment, before facing Jason again. Jews knew how to put on a show, that was certain. He had finally managed to catch the busy bridegroom without people swarming over him like bees around honey. Jason had been a gracious host as his parents and...as the bride had been. Was she two-faced on top of everything? Why did she put on the facade of a graceful lady of the house, when she was a nothing but an impertinent slave? He still remembered her sharp words from earlier. Foolish, girl. Why was she not taught to hold her tongue? But either way, it was good to at last find Jason on his own, standing exactly where Abigail had stood almost an hour ago, at the edge of the room, when he and Menelaus cornered her. He had a very happy, peaceful glow in his aqua coloured eyes. He observed the lively dancing with a smile, his eyes always moving about the area to find his beautiful bride, who was at present, chattering away with his mother. At Titus' remark, Jason only chuckled but did not shift his gaze from the scene that warmed his heart.

Titus grunted with a low groan, trying hard to understand that happiness emitting from his friend, and failing at it. How could anyone be this joyful and serene? It was a new look in Jason's gleam. It was undeniable and powerful, no matter how hard Titus attempted to ignore it. So, he settled on teasing him instead.

"Perhaps, you will cease shaving and grow out your beard to look like one of the barbarians?"

At this, Jason finally moved his eyes back to him. "You need not worry, my friend. I prefer the Roman fashion. Although, calling us 'barbarians' is not the slight I may forgive easily." He playfully gave the proud Roman a jab in the shoulder. "Rome has yet to produce a ruler as wise as King Solomon." He winked challengingly, causing Titus to raise his brows.

So, now he was defending his mother's people. Shaking his head he let out a small sigh. "My father will be grieved to hear this, Jason. He was hoping you and I could make it back to Rome together, where he would help us launch our political careers. "

"Should you not be relieved?" Jason questioned, looking surprised. "I mean, after all...your father–"

"Preferred you over his own son. I know." Titus interrupted as a matter-of-factly. "I may not harbour great feelings towards my father, but his behaviour never stopped me from treating you as a friend and a brother. Besides, he has always been a bane to my existence, long before you entered our lives."

Jason let a sad smile linger upon his lips. "I am sorry to hear that, my friend. When do you leave for Rome?"

"In a month or two."

"I will miss you, Titus. You were a wonderful friend and comrade." Something akin to affection and admiration coloured his countenance. "But I know your distaste toward military life. Therefore, this should come as a relief to you."

"Yes and no." A cold, cynical expression entered Titus' face. "On one hand I am grateful to be leaving the army, but I am certainly not looking forward to have my father lording over my every move."

"Comes with a territory." Jason laughed, possibly recalling how Caius Asinius had instructed him to keep an eye on Titus once they arrived in Jerusalem, and make sure he did nothing that would potentially injure the younger Asinius' reputation and future political career. Titus had been appalled when he first found out his father's ridiculous schemes, but he knew that fault did not lay with Jason. Caius was the most pig-headed individual in the entire Empire. No one could reason with him, perhaps not even Caesar. His eyes wandered over to Cleopas Visibullis, the prefect. Jason regarded his own father with so much admiration and he seemed to return that affection. How contrasting to what he was used to back home with his own father.

"Indeed."

"Here's to home!" Jason saluted, raising his goblet and grinning with a bit of mischief. "Do not get too comfortable though. I own the Visibullis estates in Italia. I may just come calling when you least expect it."

"No need to jump that far ahead, friend. Do not worry, you will still have me around for at least a month." Smirked Titus as he remembered visiting Jason's ancestral villa outside of Rome, right before they had sailed for Israel.

So much had changed since then. So many things had occurred. And yet, it appeared to him that the only thing that truly changed was...Jason himself.