He pulled her up into a sitting position and grasped her hand. “But it was only a nightmare, Claudia. You’re all right. You were just dreaming.” She blinked and ventured a thin smile. “You were screaming like a wild woman and beating the bed with your fist.” His excited concern gave way to a grin. “It must have been a bloodcurdling dream.”
“Oh, Longinus”—she clenched her eyelids tightly against the light streaming in through the window—“it was the most horrible dream I ever had, the most frightful thing anyone could imagine. I dreamed ... oh, it’s too horribly near; I can’t tell you now.” Still shaking, she turned to snuggle within the haven of his arms. “Bona Dea....”
A sudden light knocking on the door interrupted her. Tullia entered to ask softly if anything was wrong.
“It was only a nightmare, little one,” Claudia answered, leaning back on her pillow. “It was so vivid, so frightening. But I’m all right now. I’ll call you when I need you.”
“Was it about what I told you, Mistress, the Galilean?” Her question and tone of voice betrayed Tullia’s deep concern.
“Yes ... about him and Pilate; horrible, horrible. I....”
“Oh, Mistress, could it have been a message to you, a vision sent...?”
“From your Jewish Yahweh, perhaps?” Claudia affected an uneasy laugh. “No, it was a dream, little one, that’s all. Get back to your bed; you must still be weary.”
Claudia saw Longinus’ look of puzzlement. “Tullia returned late in the night from Bethany and reported that the High Priest had schemed the arrest of the rabbi of Galilee. She was afraid he might prevail on Pilate this morning to agree to the crucifixion of the Galilean.”
“Crucifixion? By all the gods, on what charge?”