by Carol Ashby
God, I need to protect her, but how am I going to do that like this?
He started to sway, and he shifted his left hand to the floor, leaning on it to keep from collapsing. God, help me. Please...help us both.
Chapter 15: Help from a Sister
Servilia pulled the door shut behind the wounded young man, then scooped up two folded rugs and placed them atop the lid of the basket. She stepped back to the counter just as two men emerged from the passageway. With angry faces and a quiet exchange of words, they split up, one going each way. The thinner one sprinted past her and down the street.
She lifted a folded blanket from her counter, shook it open, and refolded it. Then she walked to the basket and placed it on top of the stack.
She spoke in a near-whisper, “Two men are looking for someone. Stay in the basket. Make no sound until I tell you all is clear.”
She stacked another folded rug on the basket lid. Then she stepped into the back room and closed the door.
The young man was down on his knees, leaning on his left hand. She knelt beside him.
“Can you stand?”
He shook his head. “My shoulder, leg...lost too much blood.”
She slid her hands under his arms. “Try, and come away from the door. I want to cover you up. Two men came through the passage, I think hunting you. If they look in here, we don’t want them to see you.”
With her help, he stumbled deeper into the room, away from the doorway.
“Lie down. Let me cover you.”
He dropped to his knees and rolled on his back. His eyes locked on hers. “Don’t let them find her.”
She took the blanket from her bed and spread it over him.
“She’s well hidden. As soon as I see where they went, I’ll tend to your wounds.” After a gentle pat on his uninjured shoulder, she stepped back outside.
She resumed her post at the loom when she saw the thin man who’d chased the young couple hurrying back up the street. At each stall, he was asking something.
Finally, he stood where she and her nearest neighbors could hear. “Listen, all of you. I’m looking for two people―a girl in a green tunic with fancy hair and a man who’s hurt. They’re runaway slaves who stole jewelry and clothes from their mistress. They came through there.” He pointed at the passageway that opened by her shop. “Have you seen them?”
Servilia held her breath. At least one of her neighbors must have seen her help them.
Then the shoemaker with the shop directly across from hers spoke. “There’s another passage to the next street right over there. They went that way.”
Without a single word of thanks, the man disappeared down the narrow passage.
The shoemaker smiled and nodded at Servilia, and she mouthed her silent thank you. Then she went inside to help the young brother before he bled to death.
As Julia cowered in the basket, the shopkeeper’s footsteps came closer, then paused.
“I think they’re gone, but stay in the basket. I’m going inside to care for your young man. I’ll be back soon.”
The calmness of the woman’s voice helped to slow her racing heart.
She waited in silence for the woman to return―waited and waited and waited...
It was only a short time, but it seemed like hours that she’d been hiding in the basket. After crouching for so long in such tight quarters, her thigh muscles screamed for relief, and she could scarcely feel her toes.
The longer she remained there, the more likely it seemed the kidnappers would find her. With each slap of sandals on the pavement outside the shop, her heart pounded. With each sudden sound of a man’s voice, a shiver raced through her. What if the lid were jerked away to reveal the leering face of the brutal man who reeked of rotting teeth and sweat?
Her wounded slave was somewhere inside, bleeding and maybe dying. He wouldn’t be there to stop anyone this time.
She could stand it no longer. With her heart pounding in her ears, she pushed the lid up enough to peek out. She saw no one but the shoemaker across the street, and his back was turned as he bent over his workbench.
She stood, balancing the basket lid so the stack of rugs wouldn’t fall. She placed one hand on top of the stack and the other inside the lid so she could tip it and set everything on the ground without making any noise.
The lip of the basket was too high to step over, so she crouched down and leaned against its wall. It flopped over, and she crawled out.
She cast a furtive glance at the shoemaker. Surely he must have heard the basket hit the ground, but his back was still toward her. She crawled out, straightened the basket, and replaced the lid and rugs without standing up. If the kidnappers came back, they mustn’t think the basket had changed. Then she crawled through the half-open door into the back room.
Her slave was lying in the back corner, stripped to the waist with his red tunic on the floor beneath him. His left arm lay across his bare chest, his hand holding a pad against the stab wound.
Her breaths came too fast, and she fought to slow them. How much of that red was blood?
The shopkeeper knelt beside him. “The arrow twisted when you were running. If I just pull it, it’s going to tear too much coming out. The tip is almost through anyway, so I can just push it the rest of the way. Then I can break the shaft and pull it back through.”
“Do what you must, Servilia.” He pulled over a corner of a blanket, made a fold, and placed it in his mouth. Through clenched teeth, he spoke. “Do it now.” His voice was thick with pain.
Julia’s hands flew up to cover her eyes. Then she spread her fingers to peek after she shifted to where the shopkeeper’s body blocked her view of his bleeding leg. Now was not the time for fainting.
His back arched up as the shopkeeper shoved the arrowhead through his skin, but he made no sound. A soft grunt escaped as his back settled again on the tunic. He arched once more as she snapped the shaft and pulled it back through his thigh.
Servilia looked over her shoulder at Julia. “It’s good you came in. I need help with his shoulder. You can press on that cloth to stop the bleeding. He’s not strong enough to do it.”
Julia swallowed hard and took three steps toward him. Servilia lifted his left hand from the cloth pad and tipped it up, exposing the wound that was still oozing blood.
“Come over here and press on this pad.”
Julia froze. How could she be expected to touch him with all that blood and him being a half-naked man with a hairy, muscled chest and brawny biceps? She closed her eyes trying to shut out all the red as she swayed a little.
Servilia grasped her hand. “There’s no time to waste. He needs you now.” She pulled Julia to her knees beside him. Then she placed Julia’s palms on the pad and pushed on the back of Julia’s hands. “Keep pressing on it like this.”
Julia leaned her weight on him. He winced, and her breath caught as she jerked her hands away. “But I’m hurting him.”
Servilia took her hands and put them back on the pad. “A little pain won’t kill him, but if you don’t keep pressing, he’s going to bleed to death.”
His eyes had been squeezed shut, but they opened.
For the first time, she looked deep into his smoke-gray eyes. Past the pain, there was a calmness that shocked her. How could he be so calm when he was terribly hurt and they were being hunted?
The lips that had been squeezed tight a moment earlier relaxed into a slight smile. “Please do it, mistress. The pain doesn’t matter.”
She leaned into his wound. His eyes squeezed shut, and his jaw clamped. She fought against tears. The pain did matter, but she had to hurt him to help him.
She kept her gaze locked on his face and tried to push all the blood out of her mind. He needed her help, and she must not faint.
What would have happened if he hadn’t been carrying her today? That horrible man who reeked of sweat, the crushing pressure of his filthy arms so tight around her ches
t, the salty taste of the dirty rag shoved in her mouth―the terror of those moments surged through her again. Hopeless terror...and then he came out of nowhere and rescued her.
Julia chewed her lip as Servilia finished bandaging his thigh.
“Your leg’s not hurt so bad. My husband served in the XIII Gemina, and you’re not the first man with wounds like yours that I’ve cared for. I’ve seen much worse on men who were back in battle in less than three months. You might not even limp when it’s fully healed.”
Her gaze shifted from him to Julia. “I’ll take over on that shoulder now.”
Those were the most welcome words Julia had ever heard. She rose and stepped back. Servilia lifted the blood-soaked pad away and placed a fresh one against the stab wound. He reached across and held it in place. Then she helped him sit up and began securing it with wrappings over his shoulder and around his chest.
Julia fought the urge to look at her hands and lost. They were covered with red she knew was blood. The room started spinning, so she moved farther away from him and sat down on the shop floor where there wasn’t any. She drew her knees up and rested her head against them, eyes closed.
When the light-headed feeling passed, she turned her eyes back on him. His face seemed too pale, but at least his eyes were open. He wasn’t clenching his jaw like he had been, either.
Servilia glanced at the wood-framed rope bed. “Do you think you can get up on the bed?”
Her slave shook his head. “No, but I always sleep on the ground. Here is good.”
Servilia wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “Then you should lie down.”
She supported him as he collapsed back onto the tunic. “How did you get hurt like this?”
Julia felt as much as saw his eyes focus on her. Then they shifted to Servilia. “I overheard the mistress’s brother and his friend talking about kidnapping her and claiming he paid ransom to get the money to pay his gambling debts.”
Julia’s mind reeled. Aulus was a terrible gambler, and he’d been acting strangely, his anger flaring for no reason. But he’d always been a kind brother. How could he do such a horrible thing? Something certain to hurt her?
“Someone just tried to kidnap her. I stopped them, but they’re probably nearby and still looking for her. His friend told him to sell her to get even more money.”
Julia’s stomach churned, and she fought to keep everything down. Her own brother was willing to make her a slave?
“They killed her escort, so they need to find her. They can’t leave a witness. I’m not sure they know they hurt me so bad I couldn’t take her far.” His eyes turned toward Julia, then back to Servilia. “If they come here...it might be too dangerous for you to harbor us. Don’t risk yourself. If they threaten you, give me to them, but please tell them my mistress kept running after I fell. Please keep her from them.”
Julia stared at him. Let himself be taken by the murderers to protect the shopwoman? Didn’t he care what happened to him?
Servilia patted his uninjured shoulder. “Of course I’ll keep her safe, and I won’t give you to them, either. Helping you is not too dangerous for me. I’ve been close enough to battle to hear the war cries of the legionaries as they attacked during Trajan’s campaigns, and I’m certainly not afraid of some kidnappers.”
His mouth curved into a full smile. “I can’t thank you enough, Servilia. May God bless you for hiding us. Can you help with one more thing?”
Servilia’s eyebrows dipped. “I’ll try. What is it?”
He drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “I need someplace safe for Mistress Julia where her brother can’t find her until her father returns in a month. Do you know someone who could take her in for a while and keep her safe?”
Julia’s gaze remained riveted on his face. Why was he only asking for her, not himself?
Servilia smiled down at him. “I do. I can send both of you out to a farm with a brother. He delivers vegetables and chickens twice a week when the wagons move into Rome at night. God’s hand is surely upon you; he’s coming today. He can take the two of you out of the city in his wagon. I’m sure you’ll be welcome to stay with him and his wife until you’re well again.”
His whole body relaxed as the smile turned into a full-blown grin. “Nothing could be better. God’s kind hand truly is upon me.”
Julia wasn’t sure when she’d last seen such a happy face on a man. If ever. Why would he be so delighted to be taken in by a farmer who was the brother of a woman he’d barely met?
Servilia pushed his tawny hair back from his forehead and ran her fingers through it a few times. “You need to rest and regain your strength for the ride. I’ll take care of you until Gaius and Marcella take over.”
His grin faded, leaving a trace of a smile.
The shopwoman took his left hand and stroked the back with her thumb. “There’s a little bread and a pitcher of watered wine on the shelf over there. Try not to make any noise my customers might hear. I’ll mostly be out front at the counter. I might have to leave for a little while, and someone else might be outside the door then. Don’t leave this room unless I tell you.”
The corner of his mouth lifted into a wry smile. It broadened as Servilia lifted his head and slid her own pillow under it.
“I’m not planning to go anywhere without your permission.”
Her fingers swished through his hair again. “Try to rest, and don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything to get you safely out of Rome.”
She turned to Julia. “Watch over him. Give him something to drink if he asks and apply pressure if he starts bleeding again. If he starts to bleed a lot, peek out to make sure I’m alone before you tell me.”
“I will…and thank you.” It took several fast blinks to hold back the tears.
Primus and his fellow bearers had run about a quarter mile when he stopped. Verres and Capellus caught up and stopped beside him.
Verres grabbed his head. “We shouldn’t have left her. Vilicus will wear that whip out on us when he finds out. What are we going to do?”
Primus raised both hands, palms toward them. “We’re going to agree on a story that will keep us out of trouble. If we all stick to it, who’s to say otherwise?”
Capellus rubbed the back of his neck. “But what will we say?”
Primus’s gaze bounced between the two men. “Dacius was bleeding like a stuck pig even before the arrow hit him. He’s probably dead by now, and she’s probably been taken by the ones who shot him. Let’s put any blame on him.”
Verres crossed his arms. “Gallio will come to see where everything happened. Vilicus is stupid enough to fool, but not Gallio.”
Primus drew a deep breath and held it before blowing it out. “So, we’d better go back to the house and see what’s there. I’ll figure out something that even Gallio will believe.”
As they retraced their steps, the corner of Primus’s mouth curved. Dacius had always served without complaining and been quick to help anyone he could. Even in death, he was going to get them out of trouble. How fitting that the one he’d heard Taurus say was the best of them all, the one who presumed to think he was still a man, would be remembered as the one who betrayed the mistress he was bought to serve.
Chapter 16: But Why?
The shopkeeper closed the door when she left. After Julia’s eyes grew accustomed to the dim light leaking in through the small window above the door, she could see her slave. He lay with his eyes closed and mouth tight from the pain as she sat in silence near him.
She didn’t want to look at him. There was too much red she knew was blood, but her eyes were drawn against her will. He’d been horribly hurt rescuing her...but why?
Apicula would have risked anything to save her, but she was a friend, not just her slave. Taurus would, too. But he’d trained as a gladiator, so he probably liked to fight. This man...he was only one of the nameless slaves who did whatever was needed. He had no reason to protect he
r when it might cost his life.
She bit her lip. Who was he, that he would do that? He’d been serving her for a while, but she didn’t know his name.
He’d just saved her from a horrible fate. He risked dying when he came to save her, and she didn’t even know his name.
She moved over where she could reach him and rested her hand on his upper arm. “What’s your name?”
His bicep flexed as her touch startled him. Even when it relaxed again, it felt hard.
He dragged his eyelids open. “In your household, mistress, I’m called Dacius.” His eyes drifted shut.
A shudder ran through her as images of the kidnapping flashed through her mind. She’d always thought it was safe travelling in the litter. Taurus and her bearers would protect her. But Taurus hadn’t been there, and all the others had abandoned her. Only Dacius had come for her. Only Dacius had stayed to defend her.
The others probably ran home. They shouldn’t have deserted her, so they’d probably lie and say he was one of the kidnappers.
But he was in danger even if the others told the truth. Her own brother had planned the abduction, and Aulus would be furious that one of their slaves had thwarted his plans. He’d report Dacius as a runaway who kidnapped her. The punishment for that could be some wild animal ripping him apart in the arena…or crucifixion. Another shudder coursed through her.
Her lips tightened as she raised her chin. But Dacius was her father’s property, not her brother’s, and he was serving her just like Father would want him to. No one would ever punish him as a runaway if she had anything to say about it.
Her gaze stayed fixed on his face. He looked so ordinary. Tawny hair tending toward red, but not much different from Taurus and the other three bearers. Unevenly cut, like most of the slaves. Nothing remarkable about his chin or nose or eyebrows or ears.
But there was something special about his eyes. So calm when she looked into them for the first time today, like he wasn’t frightened at all, even though his words proved he saw the danger. Yet he only asked protection for her, not him.