by Carol Ashby
“You’re a strange man. I don’t understand you. You can bear all this pain without complaining, but you’re afraid to help me test what my tea tastes like cold.”
The corners of his mouth turned upward but the tightness near his eyes remained. He couldn’t control that. She was an acute observer. No doubt she wasn’t fooled by his pretense that nothing hurt.
She continued to hold his hand in her lap and stroke the back of it with her thumb. He wished she would keep talking to get his mind off the pain. When she didn’t, he chose the next subject himself.
“Valeria, what do you look like? You must be very beautiful since Baldric is so eager for you to marry one of his sons.”
Her laughter had a musical quality. He liked it. “What Baldric values is different from other men. When he was young, he married Elka. She was the most beautiful maiden in the area, and she had a large dowry as well. But she was also kind and smart, and in time he grew to love her much more for herself than for her beauty. She gave him four sons and three daughters. Then she died from the fever that killed my parents.
“His grief was so deep that some thought he would never marry again, but his children needed a mother. He could have had any maiden he wanted, but he chose Olga. She’s very plain and had only a very small dowry. But like Elka, she’s smart and kind, and he was sure she’d mother his children well. He was right. She loves them as if she gave birth to them all. In time, he grew to love her deeply, too. That’s why he’s so grateful for my help when she was dying.
“He wants his sons to marry the right kind of woman, someone like Olga or Elka. He doesn’t care what they look like or if they even have a dowry.”
She had laid her other hand on his forearm and was casually fingering the hair there as she talked. A maiden like her had no idea how that affected a man, and he wasn’t about to tell her. Her unintended caresses helped take his mind off the pain, but nothing worked as well as talking with her.
“So he wants a woman like you for his sons.”
“Plain and with no dowry? Well, I do have the farm…” Her laughter worked even better than her words. “His sons are good men, but they’re not for me. They don’t follow the Way.”
He had no response to that, and there was a short silence. Follow the way? Did that have something to do with her being a Christian? He didn’t want to get into any discussions about that. He already knew enough about the Christian threat to the Empire, and he didn’t want to think of her as his enemy, especially while he was so completely dependent on her. It was time to change the topic.
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“Oh. I guess I didn’t. Well, my hair is brown, and my eyes are gray. I’m not a beautiful woman, but I’m not ugly, either. I’m very capable of attracting a man’s attention...as long as I’m holding a large basket of juicy ripe berries.”
She gently squeezed his forearm as she rose. Her footsteps moved away. The rustle of fabric told him she had returned to the seat by the window to resume her sewing.
Decimus forced a smile because he knew by the lilting tone in her voice that she thought she’d just made a very good joke. However, her light words struck him hard.
The most powerful man in the region looked at this woman who was not beautiful and had little or no money, and he saw someone worthy to marry one of his sons. He’d looked at her in the village and hadn’t even seen her.
Even when he was ordering Fabius to leave her alone, he hadn’t really looked at her. She’d risked her own life to save his, and he’d thought her so unimportant he had no idea what she looked like. That thought began to gnaw at him. It was a mistake he would correct as soon as his sight returned.
Chapter 13: A Real Family
Valeria glanced at the tribune often. He never moved much, but every time she looked at him, he had shifted slightly. His pain was too much for him to rest quietly, no matter what he said. She placed her sewing on the chair and stepped to the shelf where she’d stored the tea. She poured a cup and sat down on the bed beside him. His restless motion stopped when she placed her free hand on his arm.
“I know you’re strong enough to bear the pain, but I can’t bear watching you do it. Please, for my sake, will you drink a cup now?”
The throbbing in Decimus’s head was like a blacksmith hammering red-hot metal on an anvil. It was impossible to shut it out and rest. Crushing fatigue from fighting the pain made it even worse.
He hadn’t wanted to lower his guard, but the deep concern in her voice swayed him. She’d protected him from her chieftain friend. Proof enough she’d watch over him if the medicine dulled more than the pain.
“Yes.”
“I have a cup here, but I’m going to touch your forehead to check for fever first.” Her fingertips brushed some hair aside before settling there.
“No fever. That’s good. This tea can cool a fever, and that can mask what the fever is trying to reveal.”
“So if I had a fever, I wouldn’t have to drink it?”
“Galen has already been a bad influence on you. He’s a horrible patient when I have to give him medicine.” The lilt in her voice revealed her smile.
Her fingers swept another lock of his hair back into place. It surprised him when she did it, but this time he didn’t flinch. There was something about her touching his forehead that was soothing. He liked it.
“You’d need to drink the tea even with a fever. I’d just have to watch you more closely.”
His eyebrow rose. “Is that possible? I have a very attentive physician.” He managed a smile.
“Well, maybe not. Some patients do need very careful watching, and I’m afraid you’re one of them.” The smile she returned brightened her voice. “Here, drink your tea now.”
He pushed himself into a reclining position. She lifted his free hand and placed the cup in it. As he gulped the bitter liquid down as quickly as he could, she rose, walked across the room, and returned to sit beside him again. She took the empty tea cup from his hand and placed another cup in it.
“Here’s some water to wash the taste from your mouth.”
He handed her the second empty cup and lowered his cheek to the pillow. “I can now tell you it’s much worse cold than hot.”
“Well then, if I ever have to drink it, I’ll be sure to brew myself a fresh hot batch.” That might be a grin he was hearing.
A fleeting smile acknowledged her remark. She patted his arm and rose. “Time for you to get some rest.”
That second cup was a kindness he hadn’t expected. It would be good when his vision cleared. Then he could put a face to the soft voice and gentle touches.
As the pain subsided, he drifted off.
The next time Decimus awoke, the delicious smells of stew simmering over the fire and freshly baked bread teased his nostrils. Valeria was humming as she tapped a spoon on the edge of a pot. The laughter of Galen and Rhoda grew louder as they walked through the door.
Rhoda skipped over to the bed, sat down beside him, and took his hand in hers. “Astro is feeling so much better today. Are you feeling better, too?”
“Yes, I am.”
His head did feel much better. It only hurt like the morning after a night of too much wine. Her tea and the undisturbed sleep it made possible had helped a lot.
“I’m glad.” Rhoda hopped off the bed. “Valeria, shall I slice the bread now?”
“Yes, precious. Everything else is ready. Please set the table after you slice it. Decimus, do you feel up to joining us at the table tonight?”
“Yes.”
With his head hurting so much less, he felt ready for more than lying in bed like an invalid.
“Galen, would you please help Decimus to the chair? Rhoda, please set for four.”
Decimus swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood with his arms held away from his body. He didn’t feel as wobbly as he had that morning, but he was still far from normal. Galen had warned him
about tearing the stitches if he put any pressure on his left leg, so he balanced on his right.
He still saw only darkness, but suddenly that darkness was swirling. Even with Galen holding his arm to steady him, he started to teeter.
“Val! Help!” Galen was struggling to hold him up on his own. Valeria was instantly at his side. Her arm wrapped around his chest closer to his waist than his shoulders. For a German woman, she was tiny.
“We’ve got you. Perhaps we’re trying to get you up too soon. Would you like to lie back down?”
“No. I’ve been lying down long enough.”
Galen and Valeria helped him the few steps to the chair and supported him as he sat. He rested his elbows on the table and his head on his hands until he felt steady again.
He probably should have stayed in bed for the evening meal, but he wasn’t going to admit his mistake.
The rich aromas of rosemary and onions and something he couldn’t identify tantalized his nostrils as Valeria dished the stew into bowls. One by one, he heard Rhoda setting the bowls on the table. Then she sat down beside him.
She picked up his right hand and placed a spoon in it. She guided his other hand to a bowl she’d placed right in front of him. No words spoken, just enough help to make it possible for him to eat. All three of them were so casual about his blindness, helping him just enough but not fussing over him. He hated the darkness, but they were trying to make him comfortable with it while he waited for his sight to return.
He’d filled the spoon and was raising it to his lips when Valeria began to speak. His hand froze halfway to his mouth.
“Father, we thank You for Your many blessings this day. We thank You for this food to strengthen our bodies and Your word to feed our souls. We thank You especially that Decimus is able to share this meal with us this evening. In the name of Your precious son, Jesus, amen.
Galen and Rhoda echoed, “Amen.”
Decimus remained silent. They knew he was a Roman soldier. She even knew he was a tribune, yet they prayed to the Christian god right in front of him. What foolish boldness! He would never expose himself like that in the presence of his enemy.
The stew tasted as delicious as it smelled, and the bread was soft and chewy. For a while, everyone ate quietly. After they’d taken the edge off their hunger, the conversation began.
Galen’s voice came from his left. “Decimus, I made you a crutch today. With you being so tall, it wasn’t easy to find a straight branch that was thick enough and long enough, but I finally did. I made the crutch extra-long so we can cut it to the right length when Val says it’s time for you to start using it.”
Valeria’s voice from his right. “I think that should be in a day or so at the rate Decimus is healing.” Her hand rested on his for a moment and patted twice before she withdrew it. “I’m very pleased with my patient’s progress.”
Rhoda’s little-girl voice piped up just to his right. “Astro is getting better, too. He was following me around today.”
Galen chuckled. “I’d follow you around, too, if you kept feeding me bites of carrot. You’ll make him fat as a pig if you keep that up.”
“No, I won’t. His legs are too long for him to ever look like a pig. I’m not saying you’re a pig, but you eat so much sometimes. Where do you put it? I’ll get the rest of the bread so you won’t starve before breakfast.”
Rhoda slid past Decimus. When she returned, she paused beside him and placed her hand on his upper arm. He turned his face toward her. “I’m so glad we found you in the forest and brought you home for God to heal.”
Decimus blanked his face to hide his astonishment. He’d given her no particular reason to like him or want him there. Some response was required, but he wasn’t sure what that should be. In silence, he laid his large hand over her small one.
Then he smiled in her direction. “You know, Astro might have followed you home even if I wasn’t in the cart.”
Galen slapped the table and roared with laughter. “That’s excellent! You got her there!”
Rhoda laid her head against his shoulder and hugged his arm. That affectionate gesture surprised him even more than her words.
The talking and joking continued after Rhoda sat down again between him and Valeria.
Decimus cupped his chin before rubbing it. How very different this was from his family. His mother had fulfilled her marriage duties and borne his father two sons, but she had no interest in raising them. When she died ten years ago, it was as if a stranger had passed away. He’d been raised first by slaves, then by tutors. They’d always treated him with the cool respect owed the young aristocrat that he was.
His father had shown little interest in him until he was about Galen’s age. Then he took great pride in Decimus’s accomplishments at the gymnasium as an athlete and scholar. He introduced him to patrician society and all that involved. As the only surviving son in a senatorial family, he was expected to follow the standard course of offices leading finally to a provincial governorship, just as his father had done.
He quickly earned a reputation for his skill as a swordsman, and his unusual aptitude for military affairs made him a protégé of the commander of the legion in which he was serving. His appointment as a senatorial military tribune in a frontier legion had gratified his father, who had excelled in both the military and political phases of his own career. But their relationship was one of mutual respect, not special affection.
He’d never seen this kind of warmth and caring anywhere. Certainly not in his family or the families of his friends. The nearest to it was the family of his closest childhood friend. Titus was very fond of his little sister, Claudia, and they were both very close to their father, Publius Claudius Drusus. Publius had always shown Decimus more affection than his own father ever had, treating him like a son and always being there with a listening ear and sage advice when he needed it most. But their older brother Lucius was an aloof, selfish man, and their mother had divorced Publius and abandoned her children to marry into a politically powerful family, so even that family couldn’t compare to this one.
These Christians might not be related by blood, but this was family as it should be. It felt good just to be around these people. They occasionally asked him a question to include him in the circle. He kept his answers short. For the most part he sat in silence, enjoying the warmth of their words and laughter.
He finally propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands. Fatigue was winning the battle, but he didn’t want to say anything and have to leave the family circle.
Valeria’s hand rested on his forearm. He turned his face toward her.
“You look tired, Decimus. Time for you to rest. Galen, would you please help him get ready for the evening? Rhoda and I will clean up.”
Decimus dozed for a few minutes after he lay down, but he wasn’t sleeping deeply. He awoke when someone―Galen maybe?―spoke his name, but he didn’t open his eyes. There would have been no point in opening them, anyway. All he saw was black. Then Valeria’s voice penetrated the darkness.
“Dear Father, I thank You for letting us find Decimus before he died in the forest. I thank You for showing me what I needed to do. I thank You that he didn’t bleed to death, as I feared he would. I thank You for the miracles of the healing You have given him so far. Please continue healing him. I especially ask You, in Your mercy, to give him another miracle and restore his sight. If You choose to let him remain blind, please help him bear it. I pray this in the name of Your precious son, Jesus.”
“And, Jesus, help him come to You. Amen.” Rhoda’s sweet voice finished the prayer.
His eyebrows started to dip, but he relaxed them to hide his thoughts. This was no formal prayer to a distant deity. They were talking to their god as if he were a person in the room. Talking about him.
What did Valeria mean about helping him bear it if he remained blind? Did she expect that? His stomach knotted at the prospect. Hadn’t she
told him it might be a week or so, but his vision would return? Had she been lying to him? His throat constricted, and he swallowed hard.
Tomorrow, when Galen and Rhoda were not around, he would make her tell him the truth.
He didn’t let them know that he was awake, that he’d heard. He listened with his eyes closed while Galen and Rhoda climbed into the loft and told each other goodnight. Popping sounds from the fireplace told him Valeria was banking the coals for the night. Then her footsteps approached his bedside. She tucked the blanket around his shoulders to keep him warm against the growing night chill. Footsteps moved away from him. As she climbed into the loft to join Rhoda and Galen, she stepped past the creaking rung so she wouldn’t awaken him.
As if he could sleep after what he’d heard! He lay awake in the darkness for a long time, brooding over what he might hear tomorrow.
Chapter 14: Hope in the Darkness
The next morning, Valeria sensed something was different about the tribune. He hadn’t joined them at the table, and he hardly spoke a word. Even when they tried to include him in their conversation, he was mostly silent and curt when he did speak.
After breakfast, Rhoda stayed in the cottage to help Valeria spin some spring wool into yarn. When her little sister tried to get him to talk about Astro, his answers had been clipped and cold.
He slept much of the morning, but his eyes remained closed even when he awoke. His clenched jaw and downturned mouth discouraged any attempt at conversation. The brooding dip of his eyebrows was a little frightening. Each time Valeria looked at him, she saw the dangerous Roman tribune lying there, the one who bruised her arm when he first awoke.
He hadn’t seemed dangerous when she sat on the bed chatting with him yesterday. He’d actually seemed rather friendly and appreciative of the care she was giving him. At supper last night, he’d seemed relaxed and even glad to be with them.
Valeria ran her hand through her hair before cupping her face in her hands. Worry lines formed between her eyebrows as she contemplated his sleeping form. Time to wake him for lunch, but which man would she find when she woke him? The man glad to have her help or the tribune who didn’t trust her?