Avenger of Blood (33 page)

That's why the keepsake box was so important to Livia. She had put what she wanted to say to Jacob into the box—and if she had the courage to give it to him, then he would know how she felt.

Livia placed the box back in its hiding place. It was midafternoon, and she didn't feel like starting another project. Jacob would be home soon, and perhaps she would help him work on the improvised horse barn he was building. She wanted to spend as much time with him as possible before he was gone and out of her life.

As she walked downstairs, Livia heard the sound of a horse approaching the tufa cone. They didn't get many visitors on horseback, so she ran to the anteroom and peeked out. She saw Jacob gallop to a halt and dismount, and her heart rose in her throat. Why was he bringing the chestnut home? The barn wasn't finished . . .

Her fingers fumbled as she unfastened the heavy drapery covering the opening in the tufa. By the time she rolled up the curtain and fastened it, Jacob had scrambled up the ladder and stepped inside.

“You're home early,” she said. “And you brought the filly. She's beautiful.”

Jacob didn't reply for a moment, but he seemed excited. He took a deep breath and said, “I have good—I have some news.”

Livia's practical streak asserted itself. “Then come in out of the wind and tell us about it.” She refastened the entry curtain and they walked into the dining area, where Gregory joined them around the low table.

“I got word from Regulus today,” Jacob said. “He's sending Damian away tomorrow.”

“And you're going after him,” Gregory said.

“Yes, I
have
to—”

Gregory held up a hand to stifle Jacob's defensive reaction. “You won't get an argument from me,” the older man said. He glanced briefly at Livia, who was struggling to keep an impassive expression on her face, and added, “You know how we both feel, but it's your decision. I had hoped you would have thought things through by now and changed your mind, but so be it. We will wish you Godspeed.”

Jacob merely nodded, his stubborn jaw set in an unyielding line.

“You'll have a good meal first,” Gregory said. “And then we'll say our good-byes.” He stood and went to the cooking area to heat some stew and flat bread.

Jacob looked at Livia for a long time. His face softened, but he didn't speak. Neither did she. Even if she'd known what to say, she wouldn't have trusted her voice.

Finally Jacob rose and said, “I'll pack my things.” He smiled briefly. “It won't take long, seeing I have so few possessions these days.”

Livia watched him leave the room, then she slipped off to her workshop, where she stayed until Gregory called up the stairs that dinner was ready. She retrieved the box she'd made for Jacob and placed it in a leather pouch.
Too soon,
she thought.
It's too soon for him to leave.

She deposited the pouch in a niche in the anteroom and joined the men around the dining table. They made an attempt at normal conversation while they ate, but it required more effort than Livia was able to muster. When she did speak, she knew her voice sounded too bright, too false. When she tried to smile, her face felt heavy. But not nearly as heavy as her heart.

When they finished the meal Gregory cleared the table, and his absence deepened the silence between Livia and Jacob, who finally said, “I should be going. I want to be at the army post before dark. I'll camp outside the gate so I'll be there when—so I'll be ready.”

As they got up from the table, Gregory came back with a small parcel. “I packed you a few things to eat later,” he told Jacob.

As Gregory said his farewell to Jacob, Livia quietly left the room. She wanted to say good-bye privately.

Gregory had lit the wall lamps in the anteroom, she noticed. The room was still somewhat dim, with only a faint stream of fading light spilling in through the ventilation shaft. Livia unlatched the curtain but let it hang loose after she extended the ladder. The wind had died down some, so the draft was not too bad in the anteroom.

She thought back to the first time she'd seen Jacob, the day they'd run from the trader who had tried to cheat her. Livia could never have imagined that the stranger who had climbed this ladder uninvited would become such an important part of her life.

And now he was leaving. Jacob had been with them for three months, and she couldn't imagine living three days without him now.

She looked up as she heard Jacob enter. He paused by the far wall, the lamplight limning his rugged features.
This is the way I'll always remember him,
she thought. She wanted to memorize the way he looked, the way he stood, the way he filled up a room just by walking through the door.

“I will miss you, Jacob,” she finally said. “And I wish you success, whatever that means for you.”

“Thank you,” he said as he moved toward her. “I will miss you too.”

“And I will pray for your safety.” They stood at almost exactly the same height, so it was easy to search his eyes, but impossible to read what was in his heart.

He nodded. “I will appreciate your prayers.”

“Go with God, then.” She allowed herself one last, long look into his eyes, then she turned to raise the curtain.

Jacob reached for her hand and stopped her. “Livia, come with me,” he blurted out.

She turned around in astonishment both at his words and the feel of her hand in his. “I don't want to leave you. Come with me,” he repeated.

“I . . . I can't do that.” The idea was preposterous. As much as she wanted to be with Jacob, it would be completely inappropriate for her to travel with him, and there was no way she was going to stand by and watch while he killed his enemy.

The expression on Jacob's face told her that he realized the foolishness of the notion as soon as he'd spoken it. “You're right,” he said. “But I'll come back for you. After I find Damian, I'll come back.”

“No, you won't.” Her voice was soft, but Livia surprised herself by being able to say it so matter-of-factly. “You'll forget about me.” She knew Jacob meant what he said—for the moment. But she also knew that his obsession with hunting down Damian would crowd out any intention of returning to Cappadocia.

“I could never forget you.” He brought her hand up, pressing her fingertips against his lips. “Never,” he murmured into her hand.

Livia's heart swelled and she couldn't stop the words that rose in her throat. “Don't go, Jacob. Stay here . . . Stay with me.”

He gave her fingers a final kiss, then looked away. He squeezed her hand as he lowered it. “I can't,” he said, meeting her glance again. “As much as I want to . . . I can't.”

She slowly untwined her fingers from his. “No, not
can't
. You
won't.
There's a difference.”

“Livia . . .” His voice trailed off. There was nothing left to say, and they both knew it.

“Go, then.” She raised the curtain and latched it above the opening, then moved to one side.

Jacob took a step toward the door. “Wait,” she said suddenly. “I have something for you.”

With a purposeful step, Livia moved to the niche below the wall lamp and returned with the leather pouch.

“What is it?” Jacob asked.

She took a deep breath and handed it to him before she could change her mind. “Something to remember me by.”

He looked down at the gift, then up at her. “This is the same . . .”

“Yes,” she nodded, her heart pounding. She knew he would recognize the leather pouch he had rescued, and that was why she had chosen it to protect her offering.

Jacob loosened the string and pulled out the box. “It's beautiful,” he said reverently. “And you made it for me.”

“It's a keepsake box,” Livia said. “You know, to store little things you want to save.” She couldn't stop chattering nervously as he stared at the box she had designed especially for him. “Silly, sentimental things . . . memories . . .”

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I'll treasure it.”

She didn't know what she would do or say if he opened the box. At first she was scared he would, then scared he wouldn't, and finally, disappointed that he didn't.

Without looking inside, Jacob slipped the box back into the pouch and tightened the drawstring, then placed her gift inside the parcel from Gregory. “Good-bye, Livia.”

She managed to choke out a good-bye, then watched Jacob climb down the ladder and ride away. She stared until his retreating form was no longer visible, until she could no longer hear the hoofbeats of his horse, and even then she kept staring into the twilight.

After a while Gregory slipped up behind her and put his arm around her. “He's gone?”

Unable to speak, Livia merely nodded.

“If it's meant to be,” her uncle said, “he'll return. And if not . . . well . . .” He cleared his throat.

Sweet Gregory. He was at a loss for words, but she knew how much he cared. “Thank you for understanding,” she said.

He leaned up and kissed her cheek, then said good night.

For a long time Livia stood in the doorway, watching the darkness descend, wondering how it happened that she had given her heart to a man who didn't want it, wondering where Jacob would be when he finally opened the box, and wondering what he would think of the things she had placed inside. Perhaps she shouldn't have done it—no, she would allow herself no regrets. But she did hope that tomorrow she wouldn't feel quite as foolish and desperate as she did now.

Jacob made camp outside the army post, selecting a spot that was a good ways from the road but close enough to watch the gate. Before it was completely dark, he gathered plenty of wood for a fire. Some of the branches were still slightly damp from melted snow, so the wood popped and hissed as it caught, but before long he had a nice blaze going.

He was grateful for the fur-lined coat. The wind had died down, but it would still be a cold night, and the heavy coat would be much warmer for sleeping than the two light woolen blankets Jacob had had for his original journey to Caesarea.

Between the farewells with Gregory and Livia and the effort at getting a fire started, some of Jacob's excitement had diminished. He tried to focus on the satisfaction he would feel when he had delivered justice to Damian, but Jacob's thoughts kept wandering from his enemy to the friends he had just left. He was beginning to realize just how much he would miss them.

Jacob had not prayed very often in the last few months; he had little to say to God and didn't think he wanted to hear what, if anything, God had to say to him. It had seemed safer to keep his distance from the Almighty. At the moment, however, Jacob wanted to pray. He wanted to ask God to watch over Gregory and Livia, to bless them for the hospitality they had shown him, and to protect and prosper them. But Jacob felt too guilty to form his thoughts into a prayer. He supposed God knew what was in his heart, anyway. What
was
in his heart? Jacob wondered. He didn't know anymore. He recalled Gregory's prophecy the night they met, the prophecy that Jacob's mission would not succeed. Gregory had said, “If you will let it go, your enemy will destroy himself. But if you continue your pursuit, you will fail. And you will find that the real enemy is inside you.”

At first the prophecy had rattled Jacob, but as the days went by, he had shaken it off. Now, as he stared into the fire and waited for the chance to pursue his enemy again, Jacob couldn't get the prophecy out of his mind. Was the real enemy inside his own heart?

Jacob's thoughts drifted to home, and he had trouble imagining himself back in Ephesus. Everything had changed for Jacob. He no longer had a desire to be in the ministry, and no idea what to do with his life after he dispensed with Damian and returned home. He couldn't see himself running the family business. He couldn't even see himself living in the huge villa again, with every luxury imaginable and servants to take care of his every need. He'd grown quite comfortable living in the cozy cave house, with Gregory taking care of the household chores and Livia running him out of her workshop, then staying up late so the two of them could talk.

Livia
. His thoughts always came back to her. She hadn't believed Jacob when he'd said he would come back for her . . . but he would. As soon as he finished what he'd set out to do, he would come back for her.

Jacob remembered the gift she'd made for him and pulled it out of the parcel where he'd stashed it. The small box was unlike any of her other designs—even more intricate and detailed. And very inventive. The pattern she'd created with the blue enamel reminded him of waves. Livia knew how much he loved the water; he'd told her it was one of the things he'd missed most about home.

A “keepsake box,” she'd called it. As he moved the box, he felt something shift inside, so he opened the lid. She'd said it was a place for him to store things; he hadn't thought about her putting something inside for him.

A glimmer of reflected light coming from the box caught his eye, and Jacob reached for it. The stone he pulled out was a cabochon— polished smooth, without facets—and it was amber, her favorite. He was sure it was one of the stones she had purchased from the trader and Jacob had recovered.

He wrapped his fingers around the stone, warming it in his palm, and recalled the day they had spread the stones out on her workbench and Livia had begun planning how to incorporate them into her designs.

She had first separated the stones by size and color. “I just think they're beautiful,” she said. “But some people attach special significance to them.”

Jacob told her about a sailor he'd known, who treasured a small stone of amethyst, believing it would bring him to a safe harbor. “It's a common superstition,” Jacob had said, “although some sailors think it's emeralds that will protect you on a voyage.”