The Palm of Tyrants

The wheat slid from her hand. Nothing stayed the same for long. She wondered if the grains enjoyed the sun and the rain and thought they could stay on the stalk forever, bending in the wind, rustling in the darkness. Now they too were cut down in their prime, trampled and winnowed. But still they ran into the dark spinning hole between the grindstones as if eager to be bread.

Enough. The one thing she knew was that she did not kill Joseph, no matter how much she blamed herself. But someone else had. Who, though, who?

Roman Palestine, the Year 85. Yona has been married to a Yavneh trader for nearly ten years, but now, because she is barren, the law requires him to divorce her. She is a rarity, an educated woman, but that does not make it any easier to accept her heartbreaking and perilous position. She has no dowry, and few marriageable skills. Neither her scholarship nor her talents at keeping her husband’s accounts are considered a suitable occupation for a woman.

Then the unspeakable occurs. Joseph is found dead at the foot of his cart. Where was she that night? Rumors fly, then accusations.

Yona is desperate to clear her name. Unless she can rise from the shock of Joseph’s murder to pursue the mystery, she will lose everything. She must find a way through the tangle of scholars and zealots, local inns and Roman villas, corrupt officials and the emperor’s cult. But then, if she does discover Joseph’s killer, will anyone listen?