by Carol Ashby
His words drew Valeria’s smile. It was good to see how the prospect of doing something useful had brightened his outlook. It had been a stroke of genius to have him help Galen so he’d feel like a man instead of a worthless beggar. She’d talk with Galen later about what she thought he should and shouldn’t do right now.
The conversation, as always, was relaxed and happy. Valeria kept a close eye on him. He seemed content, like he enjoyed being part of her family circle. To see him now, it seemed silly to have worried so much about whether he would enforce their execution.
The sun was soon low in the sky, and supper time was over. Galen helped Decimus prepare for evening while she and Rhoda cleared the table and cleaned the dishes.
Decimus was reclining on the bed when he heard the legs of furniture sliding on the floor. They were gathering at the table again for their evening prayers. It still amazed him that they would worship the Christian god as if there were no Roman officer lying on the bed listening to them.
Someone opened a cabinet door near the foot of his bed, then closed it. Rhoda spoke. “It’s my turn to read tonight, and I know exactly what I want Decimus to hear.”
Her footsteps, then something set on the table. A soft rustling―she was turning pages of a codex.
Rhoda cleared her throat. “Jesus said, ‘A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side.
“But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’
“‘Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?’ The expert in the law replied, ‘The one who had mercy on him.’ Jesus told him, ‘Go and do likewise.’”
The cover of the codex closed, and her feet shuffled against the wooden floor as she turned toward him. “Did you like that story? Jews wanted nothing to do with Samaritans in those days. That makes him helping even more special. Valeria and I got to be the Good Samaritan for you.”
He froze his face as the shock wave passed through him. The parallel between the story and what had happened to him was too perfect. He would have preferred to say nothing, but he felt Rhoda’s eyes on him. She was waiting for an answer. “You read it beautifully.”
He heard the slight rustle as she turned back to the table. Valeria’s voice came to his ears, “Father, we thank You for...” She and Galen and Rhoda continued, alternating among themselves as they praised and thanked their god for many different things and asked his help for others, but Decimus wasn’t listening to them anymore.
His mind focused on the day of the ambush. He was the man who’d fallen into the hands of robbers and been left to die. Galen told him as much during their first conversation. Galen had even said she was the Good Samaritan when he asked why his sister had stopped to help.
Decimus had convinced himself that Valeria rescued him out of gratitude for him stopping Fabius. That made total sense to him...but it was totally wrong. She and Rhoda had rescued him solely because their god said they should. It didn’t matter that he was a Roman tribune duty-bound to enforce his father’s decree against Christians. They’d willingly risked death to help their sworn enemy just to obey their god’s command.
More amazing, they didn’t even seem to care that he might kill them. They’d done nothing to hide that they were Christians from him. They prayed for him out loud and often. They truly believed their god listened to their prayers.
He’d bet anything that they would never deny their Jesus and worship Caesar. Faced with that choice, they’d die like the Christians he’d watched in the arena, singing and praising their god as they were cut down.
The way they were caring for their enemy―that shook him to his core. He’d been so certain that Christians should be exterminated as a threat to the Empire. The longer he was with these people, the more he was torn between his loyalty to Rome and his gratitude for them caring for him. And they weren’t just caring for him. They actually seemed to like him. They seemed to enjoy having him with them. Were they his enemies or his friends?
Valeria―she was unlike any woman in his wide experience. What made her so brave and wise and so unfailingly kind? It couldn’t all be because she followed the Christian god.
He ran his hand through his hair. She’d become important to him. She’d kept him from dying by the road three days ago. She’d managed to pull him out of the pit of despair today. Somehow, he felt better able to face a frightening future when she was nearby. There wasn’t anything about her that he didn’t like...except her being a Christian. That actually bothered him a lot when he thought about it, so he tried not to.
He’d never met another woman who intrigued him like she did. More than ever, he longed to remember what she looked like.
Chapter 16: Gaius’s Way
Valeria banked the fire and turned to check on Decimus before climbing the ladder to join Galen and Rhoda in the loft.
Her breath caught. He wasn’t lying down as she expected. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed, a shadowy, slumped shape in the dying firelight. His elbows rested on his knees, and his face was buried in his hands.
Her hand shot up to cover her mouth. Was he contemplating suicide again? Would he hunt for a knife after she climbed into the loft?
She walked to his bedside. “Is something wrong?”
“No...well...yes.” He lowered his hands, but he still faced the floor. Then he raised his head, but his sightless eyes only stared past her into his darkness. “But there’s nothing I can ever do about it.”
“What is it? Maybe I can help.”
Decimus ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry for how it was in the village. Something that didn’t matter to me then truly matters now.”
He drew a deep breath, as if the words hurt to speak. They probably did. A tribune wasn’t the kind of man she would expect to apologize for anything.
“I can’t remember what you look like. I’ve tried, but I just can’t. I never really looked at you, at least not to actually see you. And now I’ll never know what the woman who saved me looks like.” He dropped his head again.
“Well, then I guess I was wrong.”
His head tilted as he directed blind eyes toward her voice.
Her smile brightened its tone. “I thought I could at least attract the attention of a man if I had a bucket of ripe berries, but then I guess I wasn’t actually holding the berries...”
His mouth drooped. “I mean it. I wish I knew what you look like.” Obvious regret softened his voice. Joking about it wasn’t making him feel any better.
She knelt in front of him and took his hand. “You don’t need to feel bad about not remembering me. You had no way of knowing then that you would ever see me again.”
She rolled her eyes. Why did she say “see”? The sadness in his eyes seemed to deepen at that word. This wouldn’t do. He mustn’t start thinking that being dead was better than being blind again.
“Anyway, we can fix that now. Gaius taught me a very useful skill. If you close your eyes so there’s nothing to distract you, you can see with your fingertips.”
His eyebrows dipped as his head drew back.
“No, really. It works. I’ve done it many times. Give me both your hands.”
He made no move to give her the second one, so she picked it up. He let her position them, palms together, between her own.
“Now the secret is to tou
ch what you want to see very, very lightly with just the tips of your fingers. I’ll show you.”
His hands dropped back onto his knees when she released them. She placed the fingertips of both her hands on his forehead, then closed her eyes.
With a feather-light touch, she traced the shape of his eyebrows. “Your eyebrows don’t quite match because you have a small scar here on the outer corner of the right one.”
She continued moving her fingers downward, tracing one fingertip along the bridge of his nose. “You have a lump right here on the side of your nose. I think you must have broken it at least once.”
Her fingertips slid down along his nose to his mouth. The corners were twitching. “Stop laughing at me. This really does work.”
Decimus caught her hands and stopped her. It felt too much like she was caressing his face. He might be blind, but he was still a man, and the tingling touch of her fingertips skimming across his skin heated his blood in a way he was certain she didn’t intend. It was best to stop her now.
Her voice was bright, almost playful. “Now it’s your turn. Start at my forehead and work your way down my face, touching all of it. By the time you reach my throat, you’ll be able to picture in your mind what I look like. Use both hands or you’ll only see half of me, and that wouldn’t be a pretty picture at all.”
She leaned against the edge of the bed between his knees to steady herself. He felt her closeness, and that warmed his blood, too. Then she lifted his hands and placed his fingertips against her forehead.
“I’ll try to stay perfectly still until you finish. I’m closing my eyes so you can feel everything.”
Decimus began slowly, tracing her hairline. He fingered a strand of hair. It felt silken between his fingertips. Then he traced the fine arched shape of her eyebrows. They felt perfectly matched to him. His fingers skimmed over her eyelids and felt her thick, long lashes. He drew one finger down the bridge of her small, straight nose. Her cheekbones felt high, and they slanted upward.
She was right. He was forming a picture of her in his mind. As he began feeling the softness of her cheeks, the tips of his right fingers touched a raised welt just below her cheekbone. He jerked his hand away.
Her voice was soft. “You can touch it. You won’t hurt me. It’s a very old scar. I did warn you that I wasn’t a beautiful woman.” She placed his fingers back on her face. “Keep seeing me.”
“What did this?” He traced the length of the scar with his index finger. It was about an inch long and forked at one end.
“I was thrown from a horse.”
He raised one eyebrow, but it quickly settled back into place. By now, nothing about this woman should surprise him.
“How did that happen?”
“When I was young, my father bred horses. I was his only child, so I helped him like a son would. We had a beautiful stallion. He wasn’t as big as Astro, but he was just as spirited. Of all our horses, he was my favorite. The only problem was he spooked easily. I was riding him one day when a rabbit jumped from under a bush and ran between his legs. I wasn’t paying close enough attention, so when he reared, he threw me. I landed in the bushes by the side of the ravine. They stopped my fall and probably saved my life, but one of the branches tore my cheek. I was ten at the time.”
“No wonder you can recognize a good horse.”
“Astro could be a great stud. I expect Baldric to bring one of his mares to him. He raises horses, and he has some truly beautiful ones. I’m sure he’ll want to improve his herd with Astro.” She sighed. “Father would have wanted to breed our mares with him, too.”
He tilted his head. The wistfulness in her voice as she spoke of her father was followed by a few seconds of silence. When she spoke again, the brightness was back.
“If it weren’t for that stallion, I would have died when I was twelve. My parents had already died of the fever. I was lying in the cottage, burning up with fever, too. I was sure my time was near. I couldn’t bear the thought of the horses dying from lack of food and water, so I dragged myself out to the corrals and opened all the gates. It was the last thing I did before I passed out. God used the horses to get me out in the yard where Gaius and Priscilla would find me.”
He’d lowered his hands to rest on his knees on either side of her while she was telling him the story. She picked them up and placed his fingertips back on her cheeks just below the scar.
“I’ve closed my eyes again. Don’t stop touching. You need to finish seeing my face.”
His mouth curved into a smile until he turned it off. He needed no encouragement to caress her silken skin again. He traced first the upper curve of her soft, full lips, then the lower one. They were smiling, just as he expected. He slid his fingertips along her jaw, under her chin, and across her upper throat. His right hand finally came to rest with his thumb lying along the bottom of her jaw and his fingers lying on her cheek with the scar. He left them there, stroking her cheek with the side of his index finger.
The corner of his mouth tipped up. Looking at a woman’s face this way was much more satisfying than using his eyes. Her skin was as soft as any he’d ever caressed, and the scar added an interesting texture as he slowly slid his finger across it.
Best of all, he now had a face to go with the kind voice and gentle touch. Gaius’s way of seeing might well become his favorite, even if his sight returned.
Valeria opened her eyes. Why was he leaving his hand on her cheek for so long?
Maybe he was having a hard time figuring out what her scar looked like. It did make her stand out from other women. Even a blind man couldn’t help noticing it. It was vain to care about that, but she still did sometimes. Well, she’d warned him she wasn’t beautiful. She took his hand and made him stop.
“Can you picture what I look like now?”
“Yes, and for the second time I’ve caught you in a lie.”
“What do you mean?”
“You told me you weren’t a beautiful woman.”
She rested her hand on his forearm and stood. “I can see I’m going to be living with two hopeless teases for a while. You and Galen make quite a pair.”
He looked so much better with his lips turned up in a smile instead of down in a frown. What a relief to have him joking with her. The deep shadow of sadness was gone, at least for now. He no longer seemed likely to try to kill himself before morning.
Her words had a charming lilt. Why was she laughing at him? Decimus had meant exactly what he said.
He listened to her footsteps as she walked away from his bed. He wasn’t expecting her to suddenly turn and walk back to his side. He didn’t jump much, but it startled him when she laid her hand on his shoulder.
No trace of teasing colored her voice. “Please don’t have any regrets about what you did in the village. I want you to know how very thankful I am that you were there. I know you don’t understand yet, but God used you twice to save me that day. If you hadn’t cut us off and galloped ahead, Rhoda and I would have been the first ones through the gap where the robbers were waiting.”
He reached across his chest and placed his hand over hers. Then he interlaced their fingers and gently squeezed. He didn’t want to think about what the robbers would have done to her and Rhoda. Strangely, he was glad he’d gone through the gap ahead of them.
She squeezed back. After a moment, she withdrew her hand.
“Good night, Decimus. Rest in peace.”
He stretched out on the bed, and she tucked the blanket around him. Two soft pats on his shoulder, and she left his side.
He listened to her climb the ladder and lie down to sleep.
Valeria lay in her bed, praying for Decimus’s sight to return and thanking God that he was in much better spirits and feeling hopeful again.
Decimus lay on his bed, thinking about a kind-hearted, beautiful woman with silky brown hair that framed a face with fine arched eyebrows, high cheekbones, soft lips with a smile constantly upo
n them, and laughing gray eyes―too bad she was a Christian.
Chapter 17: The Night Caller
The pounding on the door jerked Decimus from his deep sleep.
A young girl’s voice―was it Rhoda’s? “Valeria! Come help us!”
He sat bolt upright, straining to understand what was happening. Quick creaks of the ladder. Footsteps approaching.
Valeria’s hand gripped his upper arm. Her lips brushed his ear as she whispered, “Lie down and be very quiet. Someone has come for my help.”
The curtain rustled as she dropped it to hide him from view.
A bolt slid back, and light footsteps scurried in.
“Papa sent me to get you right away. Mama needs you really bad. The baby started coming early. Mama’s having horrible pain, and she feels so hot. Papa’s scared she might be dying. I ran as fast as I could, but it’s taken me so long to get here...”
“I’ll come right away. Sit here by the hearth and warm up while I get ready. We’ll take my mare so we get back to your mama as soon as we can.”
A scraping sound told him Valeria had moved a seat near the fire for the girl. The rung creaked as she climbed back up the ladder.
Decimus kept his breathing slow and silent. Only the curtain separated him from the little girl as she wept.
When Valeria came back down, she wore an old pair of Galen’s trousers under her dress. She would be taking the shortcut over the top of the hill where the brush was thick, and she wanted to protect her legs.
“I’m almost ready, Elsa. I just need to gather a few things.”
After she carefully wrapped several small jars of herbs, powdered minerals that could slow bleeding, and some of Gaius’s medical instruments, she put them all into a tie sack that she slung across her chest.
“Let’s go help your mama.”
Decimus felt a rush of cool air as they hurried out the door and closed it behind them. Through the window, he heard her shrill whistle to call the mare.