A BANQUET WAS TO BE HELD for the Roman governor at the high priest’s palace. The Sadducees considered it advantageous to keep on good terms with him as well as with all the other Roman authorities, and it benefitted the Romans equally to keep good relations with the ruling council as instruments of peace in the community.
Shana was aflutter with nervous excitement at the prospect of being in the presence of such illustrious society, not because she particularly esteemed any one of them but because she was terribly afraid of drawing attention to herself through some clumsy mistake. She had been groomed for the occasion and given the task of standing at the entrance to prettily welcome the guests with a modest smile. She stood demurely with her hands behind her back, creating a lovely decoration in her fluid apricot-coloured robe, which was gathered above the waist in fashionable Grecian style, her hair braided and coiled about her head with ribbons.
The guests began to arrive with a flourish of finery – richly coloured garments decorated with jewelled and embroidered borders, the men wearing princely headdresses. The members of the Sanhedrin filed in with their wives and took their places, followed by the upper ranking officers. As they passed, the women glanced at Shana with dignified disdain, but the men’s eyes lingered, sweeping discreetly down her body until she felt stripped naked. By the time the governor arrived, he was greeted with a haughty scowl, which seemed to please him nonetheless for he tipped her chin up and made some comment about her comeliness, laughing lecherously into her face. Shana suppressed a violent urge to bite his hand and stood quivering with rage as he swept ceremoniously towards the seat of honour. Josiah came in behind him, laughing silently behind his hand. He winked at her as he went by, which sent her into a fluster of blushing mortification. He was the last of the guests to arrive and the great doors were closed.
Across the spacious hall, Shana watched the guests settle themselves onto plush dining couches positioned on either side of a long table. The governor sat at the head of the table, his voice rising above the rest and his jokes extracting rounds of dutiful laughter from his companions.
Shana hung back to allow the other maidservants to take the coveted positions of serving at the top of the table so she could wait on the officers and younger guests. Her job was to look out for anything they might desire: retrieve empty goblets from their outstretched hands and replace them refilled with wine, replenish platters with delicacies, and remove empty dishes. Josiah chose a seat opposite her.
Throughout the evening, Shana was aware of him watching her. He was gay and politely attentive to those around him, but his eyes never left her. She tried to pretend not to notice but became awkwardly self-conscious, which made the evening even more trying.
As the guests got increasingly drunk, some of the unaccompanied officers began to entertain themselves with the maidservants, making suggestive comments and laughing uproariously when they blushed with embarrassment. To Shana’s dismay, a middle-aged man in front of her leant back in his seat and stretched his hand towards her. “Come, my pretty one, feed me my meat. I can no longer lift my hand to my mouth,” he slurred. Shana recoiled and took a step backwards. He lunged a grasping hand towards her again, leering at her through watery, bloodshot eyes and dribbling and spitting with laughter. Shana stood still, horrified.
“Come closher,” he said, “I can’t reach you.”
His companions rolled against their cushions with intoxicated mirth.
“I–I am not permitted,” she said, rigid with humiliation.
“I only wish to rech-eive my portion from your fair hand, the better to tashte it.” He looked around blearily at his friends for approval, who looked on with amusement. Shana ignored him.
“Do you refushe to serve a guest of the high priest?” he said, his face turning the colour of the wine.
At that moment, Josiah leapt to his feet. He had spilt a full goblet of wine down his front, which formed a blood-red stain on his chest as though he had been stabbed.
“You there, girl,” he called across the table to Shana as he tugged the stained mantel over his head. “Take this to the washroom and clean up the mess. Quickly, before it spreads.”
Shana ran around the end of the table away from the clutches of the officer, who now lolled on the cushions with his red mouth slack. She took the garment from Josiah, who seized the opportunity to give her hand a quick squeeze. In the safety of the kitchen, she scrubbed the stain out of his garment and went to hang it out in the back courtyard, where she remained crouching behind a terrace wall until the party came to an end sometime in the early hours of the morning. There was no doubt that Josiah had come to her rescue, and for that, she could almost forgive him for his inordinate display of affection, but somehow she had to discourage his advances.
The next day he found her in the hall, where she and several other servant girls were cleaning up the debris of half eaten food and spilt wine. His skin had a pasty, unwholesome look and a network of fine pink lines encircled his irises. “I’ve come to claim my mantel,” he said, smiling down at her, “and perhaps my due thanks.”
“I am very grateful,” said Shana. “Thank you. It was a most awkward situation.”
“I looked for you after the party.”
Shana did not reply and continued to tidy up the table.
“I came to ask you if you would come to a Shabbat dinner at a friend’s house tomorrow night; all the other maidservants will be there. It’s a humble affair so there is no need for formality.”
Shana felt a prickling in her fingertips. “Does it not dishonour you to associate with common servant girls?” she hedged.
“The high priest employs only the best, mostly from wealthy homes, whose fathers perhaps hope to wed their daughters to men of social standing. I’m convinced you are no common servant girl and whatever brings you here, you are young and beautiful and would surely enjoy some fun.
"I have heard you are betrothed," said Shana.
"My betrothed is not yet thirteen years of age and still in her father’s house There is no law to prevent me from sharing the company of friends of my own choosing, and men make dull companions on their own.”
A pulse throbbed in Shana’s neck. She scrubbed furiously at a stain on the table. Where would this lead to? Could she maintain an innocent friendship with him, as he implied? If so, there was a very real possibility of gaining his support in Rafael’s case. To refuse him now might mean forfeiting an opportunity. To accept could be equally dangerous.
“I cannot,” she said uncertainly.
“May I ask why not, if you will allow me to be so bold? You are unattached, aren’t you?”
“I am not obliged to answer your questions,” said Shana hotly, her pulse quickening.
“No, alas you are not a court witness, otherwise I could get the truth out of you,” he said teasingly. “But tell me only this: have you any aspirations of marriage in the near future – to me or to anyone else?”
“Certainly not!” Shana retorted, angered by his impertinence.
Josiah remained cool and in control, quite unabashed. “Good, that’s all I want to know; there are no further questions.” He laughed and then spoke more seriously. “Listen, I don’t know what it is you fear, but allow me to lay your heart at rest. You have no plans to be wed, and certainly not to me,” he mimicked her with a playful smile, which she had to admit held a magnetic appeal, “so what safer friend than I who cannot offer you that option? I do not deny that I find you attractive, and I think you find me the same, but what harm is there in that?”
The colour rose in Shana’s cheeks. She was disgusted with herself, acting like a silly young girl. Josiah waited, as in possession of himself as a prince. He seemed to take possession of her also, subtly inducing her to submit to him. Yet something about him repelled her, made her uneasy and afraid. His domineering confidence gave him an uncanny ability to lure her will in the direction he desired. However, she could certainly use a friend, especially one as charming and influential as him, and he had assured her that he wanted her friendship and nothing more. She could not help that this man was attracted to her, and had not given him any reason to think it was reciprocated.
“You have not given me an answer,” said Josiah, grinning impishly.
“It is–er–kind of you. I will ask the girls if I may accompany them.”
“I’m delighted,” he said, and Shana blushed again.
To bolster her confidence, Shana dressed in her prettiest robe and let her hair fall over her shoulders beneath a semi-translucent veil, secured with a beaded headband. She waited outside her room for the others, wishing already that she had not paid so much attention to her appearance. The girls swept her into the group, frivolous and light-hearted in stark contrast to her nervousness so she drew herself up with a poise she did not feel, unhappily aware that she probably appeared aloof as well as vain.
Josiah’s eyes lit up when he saw her, which was plainly evident to the others and made her feel uncomfortably disloyal to Rafael. To compensate, she treated him with cool detachment, which did not discourage him in the least, for to her dismay he behaved as though she belonged to him. His friends were mostly unmarried men about his age, together with their sisters and sisters’ friends, who had gathered at an aunt’s home – fairly well-to-do but not uncomfortably grand.
Since Shana was unavoidably committed to the evening, she turned her mind to participating – she had always loved parties but attended very few. Thanks to her time in Sepphoris, she discovered she could easily assume the manners of one accustomed to fine living. When questioned politely about her background, she quickly developed a knack for picking out details that were true, though misleading nonetheless. Her conscience prickled in the background, but she could not pay attention to it right then and played her part with skill born of necessity.
“My mother sent me to live with my cousin and his wife after a disagreement with my father,” she said, neatly slicing six or seven years out of her life and exchanging that time for the present. Always having looked younger than her years, now proved to be an advantage. She was adept at diverting the conversation to matters of common interest: news of happenings in the city or day to day incidents in the high priest’s household, but mostly she seized every opportunity to get others to talk about themselves, encouraging them with her interest and well-placed questions.
By the end of the evening, she was thoroughly exhausted. Josiah insisted on escorting her home, which Shana was obliged to accept because the other girls clearly had no intention of leaving this side of midnight.
“I'm mystified,” he said. “There’s something you are not telling me. I do not understand why you are not married, or at least betrothed. You must have had many opportunities.”
“Friendship does not require me to explain myself,” she said testily, and then afraid of sounding too defensive, added, “Suffice it to say that there has been some trouble in my family, which I prefer not to speak about.”
“One day I hope you will trust me enough to tell me,” he said. “Meanwhile, I’ll say no more about it. We are too young not to enjoy ourselves. Before long we will both find ourselves married, with a tribe of children, and have many other things to think about.”
Shana flashed him a shaky smile, more out of relief than anything else, but he was well compensated and went off humming under his breath, leaving her to escape at last into the little haven of her own space.