Samara burst into the courtyard of Leah’s parents’ home without knocking; Leah was sitting on a bench, knitting, her needles clacking. Samara had never felt so confused, and it must have shown, because Leah looked startled – even more so when Samara cried, “Leah, dear friend, help me. I’m afraid!”
Leah tossed her knitting onto the floor and stood. “Samara, what in the world could be so wrong?”
“I need your merciful compassion and forgiveness, Leah. My family is never going to forgive me, so I thought perhaps that you might.”
“Forgive you for what?”
“For accepting the proposal of a man who’s not Hebrew. A Roman.”
Leah stared at Samara, incredulous. She shook herself, then took Samara by the elbows.
“Only last week you were telling me to consider Leander, a Greek, as a marriage partner. And now you’re in love with a Gentile yourself?”
“Who said I was in love?” Samara blurted out.
Leah laughed. ”I hope you are, if you accepted his proposal and are going to go through the hell of facing your relatives.”
“He’s a Roman, Leah.”
“You’re sure that you love him?”
“Yes. I’m afraid so.”
“Wonderful. Yet why be afraid?”
“Because as you say, I’ll be ostracized from my family, from all the Hebrews.”
Leah heaved a sigh and put a hand on her heart. “Samara. Remember the story of Berenice, the beautiful Hebrew princess, daughter of King Herod? The Roman Emperor Titus fell in love with her, and he had to have her. He swept her away to live with him in his palace.”
Samara’s scorn rose and shook her out of her funk. “Berenice? You have an overly romantic view. She was the Emperor’s concubine, and he refused to marry her. When she wouldn’t worship the gods of Rome, the Roman people made Emperor Titus throw her out of the palace.”
Leah bit her lip. “Well, maybe you wouldn’t be like Berenice. Tell me, though, do you remember the man you saw in your vision? In the cave in the desert? Was he your Roman?”
“I don’t know. In that vision, I only saw the man’s back.”
“You said you saw the back of his neck. His hair.”
Samara frowned and paused. “Wait. Maybe it was him after all.”
“Really?”
“I first saw him from behind when he was clearing Hebrews away from the Western Wall. He was riding a horse. I saw the back of his thick neck.” Remembering it made her angry. “It was him, Leah, you’re right. The wretch! How could he treat Hebrews so badly?”
“If he loves you, he’ll change his ways. It’s wonderful, Samara!”
“Stop saying wonderful! What about my family? What about my religion?”
“You can never stop being a Hebrew, no matter what else you become. If anything gets in the way of your love, you’ll know which way the Lord would have you go.”
Samara was startled. “You mean the Lord is going to let me get away with love?” They both laughed.
“Samara, you said you won’t agree to bear children. Have you told your Roman?”
“No. There’s time to tell him that.”
“What are you going to do to keep from conceiving?”
“I have silphium. A few hundred little pellets.”
“Silphium? The fennel resin from Greece? Is it true that just one little ball of it prevents conception for a month?”
“Women I know well tell me that it works to do that, and it also ends conceptions that have already occurred.”
“Where could you have gotten it? The silphium fields in Cyrene have been dead for a hundred years.”
“Leah, tell no one. I have a source near Cyrene where it’s still grown in secret by women. If you ever need any, just ask me.”
“But if the men in your family knew you had it – ”
“The men in my family have no idea what I’m capable of.”
Leah’s eyes grew bright. “Samara, what is your Roman’s name?”
Slowly, Samara said, “Valerius.” She enjoyed seeing her friend’s expression turn to amazement.
“Valerius the centurion? Who turned out to be the Legate of Judea? Brother of the Emperor-to-be?”
“Yes, the same,” she said, noticing that she was proud of herself for being with such a man, proud of him for loving her. “The most powerful Roman in Judea.”
Leah said, “They call him the second Solomon.”
“Yes. He’s my Valerius.”
“Your Valerius? Oh, Samara, this is so hopeful for our people! Where might this lead?”
Samara felt a sudden stab of dejection. “To a sorry end,” she said, “for all concerned.”
Leah laughed, then stopped when she saw Samara’s sad face. “Samara, I can’t imagine you really believe that.”
“Oh, Leah, this would be an impossible love affair, after all.” Isn’t he the enemy of my people? Am I mad?
From the doorway leading into the house, a young woman with hair tightly pulled back emerged. Leah rose and put an arm around her. “Samara, this is my sister Dalya.”
“Hello,
Dalya. I’ve heard a lot about you. Tell me, how old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
Samara was flooded with memories of herself at that age, when her first suitors approached her. “When I was fourteen, Dalya, I had a few men coming around to see me. It must be the same for you.”
“No one wants me,” Dalya said, “and it’s all because of her.” She nodded at Leah. “People think I shall be barren too.”
Samara said, “No one has proven that Leah is barren.”
Dalya stared at Samara, ignoring her comment. “Now I know who you are,” she said. “That famous one who lost two fiancés.”
Samara retorted, “I’m also the one who makes money for my family. You should learn from my example, Dalya, that a woman can do well in business.”
“What good is that,” asked Dalya, “if you’re not married?”
“I shall show you, and your sister shall show you also. I’m a woman of means. I’m about to take a caravan out of Judea on a fabulous, dangerous adventure with the man of my dreams, and I’m taking your sister with me.”
Leah gasped. “You are?”
“Sit down, Leah. I’ll tell you everything. Dalya, you should listen.”