Blind Ambition

by Carol Ashby

  The tribune knew they were Christians. What if that coldness in his voice revealed a hostility that would make him arrest them when he recovered? That is, if he recovered his sight. If he remained blind, he posed no danger to them. She could take him down to the river road and leave him with someone who’d get him back to the legion. He’d never be able to tell anyone where they lived.

  Despite the risk, she prayed for his sight to return each time she looked at him.

  Decimus refused to join Valeria and her family at the table, choosing instead to eat his bread and cheese reclining on the bed. Then he feigned sleep until he heard Rhoda and Galen leave. Light footsteps and rustling fabric told him Valeria had moved to the window and was probably preparing to sew. His opportunity to force the truth out of her had come.

  He swung his legs off the bed and sat up. The sudden movement made his head spin, but he steadied himself with both arms until everything settled. This was not a conversation to have lying down and looking weak.

  “Valeria. Come here.”

  There was that commanding tone of voice the tribune had used the first time he spoke to her. Not what Valeria wanted to hear.

  She walked over and stood in front of him. “Can I get you something?”

  “I have a question, and you will answer me with the truth. The whole truth.”

  The short hairs on her neck quivered as she watched the grim line of his mouth. He was frightening when he set his face that way. “Of course. What’s the question?”

  He took a deep breath before continuing, obviously steeling himself for what she might say. “Am I going to see again? Don’t tell me what happened with the man kicked by the horse again. I want to know what you really think is going to happen...to me.”

  So that was why he’d withdrawn. Not anger with her, only worry about his future. A wave of relief surged through her, followed by a deeper concern.

  Why did he decide to ask so soon? It would have been so much better if he’d waited a few more days. He was still so weak from blood loss. But it wasn’t physical strength that he needed most to face her answer.

  His face was set in that grim look of an angry soldier, but she felt the fear underneath. He had asked, so he must be told. She wouldn’t lie to him.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I know you don’t know, but what do you expect? Truthfully. Don’t lie to me again.”

  “I haven’t lied to you.”

  “You haven’t told me the whole truth. That’s the same as lying. Tell me now. Not what you think I want to hear, but the truth.”

  A scowl twisted his mouth as he accused her of lying. She saw the dangerous tribune who had grabbed her arm in his darkness. She didn’t want to see the frightened man when she told him what she feared. She closed her eyes.

  God, please give me wisdom to pick the right words. Protect him from fear and despair. When she looked at him again, the angry look was gone. He sat in stony silence, waiting for her to speak.

  She sat down beside him. “I really don’t know whether your sight will return. I can only tell you what Gaius told me when Oleg was blinded by the kick to his head.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “He said that what happened to Oleg was very rare, maybe even a miracle. Usually, someone blinded by a head injury like that would stay blind.”

  His jaw clenched. He’d been sitting upright beside her with his hands resting on his knees, facing straight ahead, like a soldier facing the enemy before the first assault. Blind―that final word changed everything. It sucked the strength out of him. He bent over, rested his elbows on his knees, and covered his face with his hands. He took several slow, deep breaths.

  Then he spoke so softly she could barely hear his words. “If I had my sword, I’d finish it now. Better dead than blind.”

  She slid from the bed, knelt in front of him, and took his hands in hers. She drew them away from his face, and replaced them with her own. He remained hunched over, leaning on his elbows with his hands hanging limply by his knees. As she cradled his face in her hands, she tilted it upward until his face was close to hers.

  The defeat and despair in his eyes before he closed them pierced her heart. This was exactly what she’d feared would happen to this proud man who’d always depended on his own strength. She rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes.

  God, please give me the right words to say to him now. Taking a deep breath, she moved back enough to look at his closed eyes again.

  “No. Don’t talk about killing yourself. Don’t even think it. It’s too soon to lose hope. God has already done so many miracles for you. The ax could have split your head open. We would have driven by you if you hadn’t fallen right across the wagon track. You could have bled to death before we got you home. You might have never awakened from the blow to your head. Your wounds could have infected and killed you. Every one of these has been one of His miracles. God can surely do one more miracle and restore your sight.”

  Decimus snorted and a sneer twisted his lip. The Roman gods weren’t real. Just something used to control the thinking of weak-minded men. Why should he believe her god was any different?

  He pulled back from her hands. “Why would your god want to do that, even if he could?”

  She cradled his face again and stroked his cheek with her thumb. He didn’t pull away. “Because He loves you, Decimus.”

  “Why would he or anyone else love me now? A blind man is useless. A blind man has nowhere to go. No one wants him. Death is better.” Bitter despair colored his voice.

  “That can’t be true. Your wife and children will want you even if you’re blind.”

  “I have no wife and children.”

  A sigh welled up from deep within him. It shouldn’t have been that way. His father had arranged the ultimate political marriage, but the girl had died of a fever just before he was going to marry her when he was sixteen. They had agreed to wait until Father could arrange another equally good political alliance. All their plans…it was all for nothing now.

  Valeria’s heart ached for him. He truly was alone…except for her family.

  “But you don’t have to worry about going anywhere. We want you here with us, whether you can see or not. You can stay with us as long as you need to, and we’ll be glad to have you here. But we still don’t know if your sight will return. It’s too soon to tell. Don’t lose hope yet.”

  He opened his eyes again and stared into his darkness. The anguish in them was beyond anything she’d ever seen. She lifted one hand from his cheek and pushed a strand of hair back from his forehead before cradling his face in both hands again.

  “Please don’t give up. God really can heal you, and we don’t know yet if He will. It’s too soon. I can’t believe that He would have me rescue you without intending only what’s best for you. I haven’t given up hope. You shouldn’t either.”

  Again, she pushed the loose strand of hair back before laying her hand back on his cheek. Please, God! Pull him back from the hopelessness that’s crushing him. Please let my words reach him.

  “You’re only a woman. You don’t understand. I’m a soldier. I’m not afraid to die.” His words wrenched her heart. He was like a wounded animal lying helplessly in a trap, waiting for death to release it.

  His words were once more almost too quiet to hear. “I don’t know how to live as a blind man.”

  Her thumb stroked the thick stubble on his cheek.

  “We don’t know yet if you’ll even have to. It really is much too soon to tell. And even if you do, we’ll help you figure out how to do it. You aren’t alone. Please don’t give up like this. I couldn’t bear it if you killed yourself.”

  Tears were swimming in her eyes as she gazed at him for what seemed like ages, praying for God to give him courage and hope. If he died now, if he killed himself, he would be lost for all eternity. She already cared about this poor man whom God had told her to rescue, and the thought of him being eternall
y lost tore at her heart.

  Decimus longed to see her face, to read what was really going on in her head. Was that a tremor in her last words? Was she crying? No, not possible. No one could care that much after so short a time.

  So many of her words and actions befuddled him. She’d picked him up from the side of the road and brought him home. That more than repaid any debt of honor for him stopping Fabius. Besides, paying an honor debt to an enemy didn’t mean you had to care about him as a man. He was still your enemy. Once that debt was paid, you could treat him as your enemy again.

  She wasn’t doing that. Her voice sounded sincere, like she really cared what happened to him, like she would actually grieve if he died. Either she was a great actress, or she was really crying. But why should she care that much? He’d done nothing to earn any deep affection from her, nothing to earn any affection at all, for that matter.

  His loyalty was to Caesar and the Empire. She was a smart woman. Surely she knew he was the mortal enemy of Christians like her. Didn’t she realize that she and her family might be better off if he died? So why was she saying everything she could to make him want to live, blind or otherwise?

  He so wanted to believe what she said about his sight returning, but how could he? Her god would have to be real to do anything. What proof was there of that? Even if he was real, why would any god care about the suffering of one man?

  And even if the Christian god did care about his own worshipers, why would he care about a Roman sworn to destroy the people who do worship him? A man who’d overseen executions of people who refused to deny him to save themselves?

  Still, she sounded so sure when she spoke about her god saving him from dying and even loving him.

  She wasn’t a silly woman. Except when she was talking about her god, everything she said and did was sensible and practical. Maybe there was some truth in what she was saying.

  He knew battle wounds. He should have died in the forest like his men. Maybe her god really had performed miracles for him to be alive. Maybe he would do one more, even for a Roman like him.

  And what if there is no miracle? Why did she say she wanted him with her, even as a blind man? It made no sense, but she and her whole family kept treating him like a friend instead of an enemy. They couldn’t possibly have taken better care of him if he’d been a member of their own family. They really did seem to be glad he was with them even like he was, so maybe he did have someplace to be, no matter what happened.

  Besides, the man with the horse took more than a week to see again. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was too soon to give up hope.

  Relief surged through Valeria as she watched the black despair fade and a glimmer of hope return. She rested her forehead against his again. Oh, thank You, God, for pulling him back from his dark thoughts of death before they destroyed him. Now just one more miracle…please let him see again.

  He straightened up, so she rose from her knees and sat beside him. As had become her custom, she placed her hand against his upper arm to reassure him that she was there.

  Please help him. Please give him courage and hope.

  Decimus reached across his chest and covered her hand with his. He took a very deep breath, held it, then released it slowly. He didn’t understand it, but somehow he felt stronger when she was near. He could bear the darkness, at least for a while. He could wait to see what would happen. He could kill himself later if his sight didn’t return and he decided being blind was more than he could bear.

  “As you wish, Valeria. I’ll wait, and we’ll see if your god will do one more miracle.”

  She didn’t answer, and he couldn’t see her response to his words. He only knew that she still sat beside him, and somehow that gave him the courage to wait and see.

  They sat for a long time with his hand resting on hers. At last, Valeria broke the silence.

  “Time for me to finish lengthening Gaius’s pants so you can go outside tomorrow when you try out Galen’s crutch, and time for you to lie down for a while. You’ll want to be rested and ready for supper.”

  He lowered his hand as she rose.

  “You know, we really are glad to have you with us.”

  He didn’t smile, but he nodded his head. He almost believed her.

  She patted his arm and returned to her sewing by the window.

  The last of his energy left with her, and he lay down on his side.

  She was right about him needing to rest. She was usually right about almost everything. If only she could be right about his sight.

  Chapter 15: The Good Samaritans

  Decimus had just awakened when he heard the laughter as Galen and Rhoda came toward the cottage. Rhoda’s light footsteps skipped into the room, but Galen’s tromping feet stopped before entering.

  “Look, Val.” His voice boomed. “I remembered to wipe off the cowshed mud before you told me. Aren’t you impressed?”

  Valeria almost whispered. “Shhh. He’s still sleeping.”

  Galen’s voice dropped to a murmur. “Sorry.”

  “Galen, do you have something Decimus can do with you tomorrow? I think he’s strong enough to leave the cottage for a little while, and he’s the kind of man who needs to do something useful. Something that won’t hurt his leg or take too long so it won’t tire him. He’s still weak from the blood loss and needs to rest.”

  “Tomorrow? No. He’s―”

  Blind. That bitter thought stripped off the thin veneer of hope she’d given him before he slept. Blind and useless.

  “got those stitches in his leg. What I’m doing tomorrow could tear his leg up. Day after tomorrow, he can help me. I have lots of things he can help me with as long as he doesn’t mind doing farm work. It’ll be good to have help from someone with arm muscles almost as big as mine.”

  “But his arms are at least twice as big as yours.” A short chuckle followed Rhoda’s protest.

  A scuffling sound was followed by a soft squeal.

  “Stop it, Galen. Put me down. You’re going to drop me on my head.”

  “Hey, my arms are plenty big enough to swing you like a bell.”

  Giggles erupted. “Stop it! I’m not a bell.”

  “Hush, you two. You’ll wake him. Here, use those big muscles to get us some fresh water. Supper is almost ready.” Scolding words but a laughing tone.

  Decimus almost smiled himself.

  A draft passed over him as Galen opened the door and headed for the well, but nothing could chill the new warmth in that room.

  Galen’s response had shocked him. Valeria had assured him they wanted him with them, even if his sight never returned. It was impossible to believe she could mean it. He would have sworn that he’d only be a useless burden, but maybe he was wrong. Galen was actually eager to have his help.

  He’d never thought a blind man would be good for anything. The only blind men he’d seen had been beggars at the side of the road, and he would rather die than be the object of other men’s pity. Galen seemed to think a blind man could be a farmer or at least a farmer’s helper. Valeria must think that, too, or she wouldn’t have asked Galen to find something for him to do. If he could actually do something useful, perhaps the future wouldn’t be so pointless after all.

  “Rhoda, would you please wake Decimus?” There was that smile in her voice, as if no dark shadows hung over the future.

  Rhoda skipped over to the bed and sat down beside him. She nudged his shoulder, but he didn’t stir.

  “Time to wake up, Decimus.” No movement. She shook him gently. “Decimus?”

  She shook him once more, this time harder, but still he didn’t stir. “Decimus, are you all right?”

  She shook him hard, enough to wiggle his entire chest. Nothing. “Valeria, he won’t wake up. I think there’s something wrong.”

  His arm shot out and wrapped around her waist, pinning her to him. She squealed in surprise, then giggled as she wriggled and squirmed, trying to free herself
from his muscular arm. Even in his weakened condition, he was much too strong for her to break free, but she kept trying as Valeria laughed at the sight.

  A huge grin split his face as he held the giggling, squirming girl in his carefully laid trap.

  For the first time since Valeria saw the trickle of blood on his leg in the forest, she was almost certain he would make it. She opened her mouth to speak as she watched the two of them wrestling on the bed. Then she closed it. She wouldn’t spoil his pleasure at being alive by warning him to be careful of his stitches.

  Decimus was sitting on the edge of the bed when Galen returned.

  Water sloshed in the bucket as Galen set it down. “Ready for me to help you to the table, Decimus?”

  He stood, keeping his weight off his left leg. “I can get there myself if you’ll point the way.”

  “Want to lean on me or the crutch? Val will skin me if I let you rip your stitches.”

  “The crutch.” Decimus held out his hand and waited for Galen to place it against his palm.

  Galen placed Decimus’s free hand on his shoulder to guide him. “This way.”

  He inhaled deeply as he lowered himself onto the chair. Supper was bread and stew again. The savory aroma wafted around him. Rhoda placed his left hand against the hot bowl and slipped a spoon into his right. This time, he waited to begin eating until after Valeria had said her prayer.

  As he scraped the last morsels from the bowl, Galen’s fingers touched Decimus’s forearm.

  “Val told me you get one more day of rest before I can put you to work. I hope you won’t mind helping me out. I promise I won’t work you too hard to start with.”

  Decimus smiled broadly. “I’ve never been afraid of hard work. It’s much better than doing nothing.”