Free The Centurion's Wife by Janette Oke, Davis Bunn

from dreams in which she thought she heard the mistress calling to her.
    This day, it seemed as though Leah had scarcely laid her head upon the pillow before the cook was touching her shoulder. “You must come now.”
    “The mistress calls for me?”
    But the cook was already headed back through the door. “To the kitchen. Quickly!”
    When Leah arrived, she found a newcomer seated at the center table. The soldier’s beard was still wet from the baths. He plucked at the simple house robe and grumbled, “I prefer to wear my uniform.”
    Dorit was seated at the table’s far end, peeling onions. “The prelate forbids uniforms and weapons inside his compound.”
    “And my lamb is not to be served in the guardhouse,” the cook added firmly. She motioned Leah toward the fire. “Stir that soup, if you will.”
    Dorit said to the man, “You must be a trusted confidant to travel with the centurion.”
    Leah managed not to drop her ladle. She froze in place, then began stirring vigorously as the soldier replied, “We were in battle. This journey with him was my reward.”
    Leah kept her back to the room and its guest. The cook must have served him a plate because he rumbled what could be taken as his gratitude. From the corner of her eye, Leah saw the cook glance her direction, then said, “The prisoners you brought are bandits?”
    “Parthians,” he replied around a mouthful.
    Dorit commented, “Some say the Parthians do not exist.”
    “Which is why Centurion Alban brought the two officers with us. To show the world how wrong those rumors are.” The soldier continued to talk through his food. “Out in the borderlands we’ve known of them for years. But they’ve slipped past us until now.”
    Leah resisted the urge to turn and stare at Dorit. She knew the old woman had her own reasons to hate the Parthians. She heard Dorit ask, “You know this centurion of yours?”
    “Well enough.”
    “Tell me of him.”
    “He’s a good soldier. Brave. Looks after his men.”
    Leah heard the grudging tone. As Dorit must have, because she said, “But you dislike him?”
    “I have no call to answer a question like that.”
    “I mean no disrespect, soldier.” Dorit used her most persuasive tone. “It’s just that the woman he seeks to wed is a friend.”
    The cook offered her own invitation. “Tell us about your officer, and I’ll serve you another portion of lamb.”
    Leah heard the soldier drum his fingers on the table. “The centurion Alban is enamored by change and new ways. I’m for tradition. Old guard, old ways, old gods. They’ve served us well enough up to now.”
    The cook sliced more lamb and carried the platter to the table. “What can you say of the centurion’s character?”
    “The man is trustworthy.”
    “Even though you dislike his methods.”
    “He cares for his men. They do not die under him. He shares booty. He does not hold back when pay finally comes.”
    Leah could not resist any longer. She turned in time to watch the soldier drain his cup. He set it down on the table, wiped his mouth with an arm, and declared, “The centurion was born to rule.”
    To Leah’s surprise, when she took the midday meal to Procula, she found the governor’s wife waiting for her. Procula announced, “Your centurion is here.”
    Leah did not need to ask how Procula knew. Pilate’s wife had eyes everywhere. Leah wanted to insist that the centurion referred to was not hers . Instead she said simply, “I saw his aide in the kitchen. How are you feeling, my lady?”
    “Help me sit up.” Procula allowed Leah to take much of her weight and held her breath tightly as her head moved upward.
    Leah arranged another cushion behind her head and asked, “Shall I prepare another draught?”
    “Later.” Procula breathed out long and slowly as she settled back. The lines remained etched into the skin about her eyes and forehead. “Your centurion goes before Pilate now.”
    Leah felt her own breath catch in her