by Carol Ashby
“Thank you.”
Decimus reached to place his hand on hers, but before he could touch her, it was gone.
She had walked past him, her arm still around Rhoda. “Let’s go get cleaned up, precious, and then we can start supper.”
As they crossed the yard, Decimus watched them, motionless and silent as a statue. He’d learned to suppress fear during battle, but he’d never felt fear surge through him like it had when he saw Valeria struggling under the man. He’d felt no pain as he ran to save her. He’d been consumed with rage at the man who tried to hurt her. Nothing had mattered except protecting her.
His eyes remained riveted on her until they entered the cottage and closed the door.
He stiffened as the truth struck him. He, Decimus Cornelius Lentulus, senatorial tribune of the XXII Primigenia and son of the provincial governor, was in love with this Christian woman. By his father’s own decree, she should be arrested and executed. By the loyalty he’d sworn to Caesar, he should carry out his father’s decree. As tribune, he knew his duty, but that didn’t matter anymore. As a man, he would never be able to betray this woman who’d saved him...this woman he loved.
He reached down and massaged his leg, which kept throbbing now the crisis had passed. Then he stood immobile, staring at the door through which she’d disappeared.
Galen kept glancing at Decimus’s face as he stood six feet to the left. Decimus had never seen him quiet for so long. Finally, the boy could stand the silence no longer.
“It looks like I’m going to have to dig a grave because of you after all.”
Decimus’s gaze remained fixed on the cottage door. “Bring two shovels. I’ll help you.”
He didn’t move until Galen came back with the shovels and his crutch.
“Father and Mother and Valeria’s parents are buried behind the cottage. I think maybe behind the cattle shed. The ground is soft there.”
Decimus nodded and grasped one leg. Galen took the other, and they dragged the dead man to where the earth was soft.
The man’s purse hung from his belt. Decimus removed it and handed it to Galen.
“Put this someplace safe. Valeria may need the money later, but now is not the time to give this to her.”
Galen nodded without speaking. He started digging, but when Decimus tried to drive the shovel into the ground, a sharp pain ripped through his calf. He hobbled over to a fallen tree, where he sat and pulled up his pant leg. A trickle of blood―his stitches had pulled loose.
“You’ll have to dig it alone. I can help fill it back in.”
He ran both hands through his hair before he rested them on top of his head and sat there frowning while Galen dug the grave. She was already upset with him about something. He could imagine how unhappy she would be with him tearing his stitches when she’d tried so hard to keep him from doing exactly that.
He looked more closely. It wasn’t bleeding very much. Maybe he wouldn’t have to tell her if it stopped.
After Galen climbed out of the grave, Decimus rose and took one step. The ripping pain told him to stop.
“You’ll have to finish alone. My leg won’t take it.”
He couldn’t put any weight on his leg without sharp pain, and the bleeding hadn’t completely stopped by the time Galen threw the last shovel of dirt on the grave.
He would need the crutch. Decimus’s mouth turned down as he anticipated what she would say when he told her he’d reopened his leg wound.
Galen trotted on ahead. His words drifted out the open door. “Val, he tore his leg up. He’s bleeding again.”
A sigh escaped. At least he wouldn’t have to tell her himself.
When Decimus hobbled through the doorway, leaning heavily on his crutch, Valeria was ready for him. She had a bowl of clean water and some bandages. She still didn’t meet his gaze. She only looked down at his leg.
“Sit down on the chair and let me see it.”
He obeyed without speaking and pulled up his pant leg.
She sucked her breath between her teeth. “Oh, no.”
Valeria knelt at Decimus’s feet to survey the damage. First, she carefully washed the wound. After she’d cleaned away the blood, it didn’t look so bad. He’d bled where the stitches had pulled, but the cut had healed enough that the wound hadn’t fully re-opened. She wouldn’t have to re-stitch it. It should be enough to bandage it well for the night to stop any bleeding.
She looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. “It’s not so bad, but you’ve probably set your healing back at least a week, if not more.”
His eyes were intense as he gazed down at her. “That’s a very small price to pay to protect you.”
She looked quickly away and focused again on his leg.
“The acetum’s going to hurt, but I have to clean it.”
“Do what you must.”
He sucked air between his teeth as she trickled the herb-laced vinegar onto the wound. She finished by wrapping it with clean bandages.
“That will have to do for now. Try not to put any weight on it tonight. Rhoda, would you please get a bowl of clean water for him to wash his hands? I don’t want him walking any more than he has to right now.”
As she stood to return to the fireplace to finish cooking, Decimus’s throat tightened. She didn’t touch his arm like she always had before.
Galen and Rhoda had already climbed into the loft. Decimus sat on the edge of his bed, watching Valeria bank the fire. She’d been unusually quiet during supper after she offered thanks for the food, and she’d avoided looking at him. Rhoda read from their scriptures, and, for the most part, Galen led the family prayers.
Valeria was deeply troubled about something, and that something had to do with him.
The night was cool, and she picked up her shawl before she stepped out on the porch. Decimus grabbed his crutch and followed her. She was sitting on the bench, so he sat down beside her.
“You shouldn’t have come out here. You should stay off your leg.”
Maybe she spoke only out of concern for him, but “you shouldn’t have come” still cut. Her words hurt even more than her trying not to look at him. What had he done that had driven her away?
She sat in silence beside him, twisting and untwisting the fringe of her shawl around her finger, still not looking at him.
“Valeria, what’s wrong? Is it something I’ve done?”
She kept twisting the fringe and said nothing. He took her hand to stop her. She still didn’t look at him, but at least she didn’t try to pull her hand away.
After a long silence, she spoke. “You frightened me today.” She covered her mouth, then slowly pulled her hand down. “I knew it from the beginning, but I’d forgotten that you were so dangerous.”
Her words shocked him. “What do you mean?”
“You killed him so easily, and it was as if his death meant nothing to you.”
“He was trying to hurt you. I’m glad I killed him.”
She flicked her eyes up to his face, then looked down at their hands again. “That’s what frightens me. I know you’re a tribune, but you’ve become my friend. I forgot you were such a dangerous man. I wasn’t expecting you to act like a Roman.” She paused. “Gaius told me all about Rome...the arena...the bloodlust, how life is held so cheaply, how people are killed for entertainment.”
It was all he could do to keep his jaw from dropping. “Why would he tell you that? Rome is so much more.”
“He wanted me to know what I might have to face someday if I chose to follow Jesus.”
Decimus was dumbstruck. Many times he’d been with friends at the arena, cheering as gladiators fought to the death, watching as Christians were torn apart by lions. His father had organized many games during his service as quaestor in Rome, and he’d often gone to the games with Father even when he was a boy. He’d never considered whether it was right or wrong to enjoy such things. It was simply the Roman way.
&n
bsp; But Galen and Rhoda might have been among those killed by the lions if their father hadn’t fled to the frontier. Even now, they and Valeria could be in the arena if he chose to enforce his father’s decree against them.
“But I would never hurt you...or Galen or Rhoda.”
“I know...And I am thankful that you were here to rescue me. It’s just...I didn’t expect it to be so...so easy for you to kill. I’m sorry he’s dead.”
His eyebrows shot up at those words, then lowered. “And if I hadn’t killed him, would you be trying to nurse him back to health right now? Surely not.”
“I’d have to. Jesus never said I could pick and choose which enemies to love.”
His jaw started to drop, but he stopped it before she saw. Outwardly he was calm, but inwardly he was incredulous beyond words. The man had tried to rape her, maybe kill her, yet she would have taken care of the brute...just like she took care of him. Can’t choose which enemy to love? Had she thought he was a dangerous enemy when she stopped to help him? She was too smart not to know he was. Had she cared for him because she had no choice as well? Love an enemy―what did she even mean by “love?” This love that her god commanded―it wasn’t the emotion that he called love, of that he was certain.
At least she knew he would never hurt her, that he was no longer her enemy. She’d even called him her friend. That was something good that came from this mess.
Would she ever consider him more than a friend?
His realization that he loved her―loved her as a man loves a woman―that shook him. The last thing he’d wanted was to fall in love with a Christian, but he couldn’t help himself. Could she love the man who used to be her enemy? Love him the way he defined love? Love him as a man, not a friend?
He didn’t know what to say, so he sat in silence with her hand wrapped in his.
Finally, she rose, still holding his hand. “I’m very tired. You must be, too, and you need to rest your leg. Let’s go in.”
She led him through the door, holding his hand until she reached the ladder. “Good night, Decimus. Rest in peace.”
She left him standing there as she climbed into the loft.
A chill passed through him. She wasn’t going to draw the blanket up around his shoulders and tuck it in, as she had done since the first night. What else would she no longer do now he was once more dangerous in her eyes?
Valeria lay down beside Rhoda and began her nightly prayers for Decimus. He’d become a precious friend to her, but the coldness of his heart shocked her. His body was healing, but his soul had so far to go.
Decimus lay awake on his bed for a long time, wondering how he could be so much in love with a woman when he didn’t understand her at all. Did she think him too dangerous to ever want a future with him now? And why did the first woman he’d ever loved have to be a Christian? Even if they both wanted it, what future could there possibly be for a Roman tribune and a woman that Rome wanted to kill?
Chapter 26: Joining the Circle
Decimus was in battle, and it felt good. His sword moved effortlessly as he cut down his opponents, one by one. He’d just dropped another one when he heard someone behind him. He turned and in one fluid movement drove his sword into the heart. Too late, he looked to see who it was.
Valeria. He threw his sword aside and caught her as she fell. Her blood spread out in an ever-increasing circle on her chest. As she lay dying in his arms, she reached up and pushed a strand of hair back from his forehead. Eyes filled with love gazed into his as a peaceful smile replaced a grimace of pain. Her eyes began to glow with a brightness like he’d only seen that night after his sight returned.
She whispered, “I forgive you. Don’t grieve for me.” Her gaze left his face as she looked past his shoulder. Her smile grew brighter. “Jesus...” She lifted her hand, reaching for something he couldn’t see, and then...
She was gone. He rocked on his knees as he cradled her lifeless body against his chest. “NO!”
Decimus jerked awake. Galen and Valeria both stood beside his bed.
He hadn’t killed her! Relief flooded through him as he gazed upon her worried face.
“It was only a dream.” She sat down on the bed beside him. Her fingertips pushed a strand of hair back from his forehead. It was wet with perspiration. “Are you all right now?”
“Yes.” He’d never seen anything more wonderful than her sitting beside him instead of lying dead in his arms. “I dreamt of battle.”
Her eyes brimmed with compassion. She pushed the errant strand back again and ran her fingers slowly through his hair several times.
“Well, it’s over now. You’re safe here. Would you like me to stay until you get back to sleep?”
“I’m not a child, Valeria.”
“Quite so.” She smiled at him as she patted his arm and rose. “Let’s go back to bed, Galen.”
Galen climbed into the loft ahead of her. When she was halfway up the ladder, she paused to look at Decimus.
“Good night, Decimus. Rest in peace.”
Rest in peace. How was he going to do that tonight?
The Roman soothsayers claimed their dreams foretold the future. He wasn’t sure he believed them, but if there was any truth to what they claimed, what could his dream mean? Was Baldric right and somehow he was going to hurt her horribly? That was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, but would he do it anyway?
It was a long time before he finally drifted off to sleep.
Everything seemed back to normal at breakfast. Valeria was looking at Decimus and smiling like she used to, and Galen and Rhoda were teasing each other.
Decimus’s leg still hurt more than he intended to admit to Valeria, so he wasn’t going to help Galen finish the roof. She wanted him to rest it as much as possible, and he was planning to do exactly what she asked today.
The others headed out to work, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
He ran one hand through his hair as he sat on the edge of his bed. What did Valeria really think of him? Did she have any feelings toward him, like he had toward her? She told him yesterday that she thought of him as her friend, but that wasn’t enough.
It pleased and excited him when she touched him, especially when she pushed some hair back from his forehead. The light touch of her fingers made his skin tingle and heated his blood. But she did that to Galen’s hair all the time, so she probably didn’t mean anything by it.
In fact, the way she talked with him, the way she touched him―it was like he was an older version of Galen. The night she’d kissed him on the forehead―it was as if she were kissing Rhoda. She’d offered to sit with him after the nightmare, like she would with Rhoda or Galen, as if he were a younger brother in need of comfort.
He’d been a fool to turn down her offer. Even having her sit with him in silence was better than not having her close by. But she seemed oblivious of his feelings toward her. She certainly gave no sign that she felt the same about him.
When he’d taken her in his arms yesterday, she’d pulled away, but that might only have been because she was upset about him killing the man. Whenever he tried to tell her how much she attracted him, she treated it as if he was joking. Did she even see him as a man, or was he just the newest member of her family, an older brother to Galen?
Rhoda walked in carrying a basket of vegetables from the garden. He hadn’t expected her, and his thoughts were showing before he masked them.
“Decimus? Is something wrong? You look sad.”
An artificial smile lifted his lips. “I’m just tired.”
She walked over and took his hand. “No, you’re not, but I know what will fix that. Will you read to me?”
Her request surprised him, but he was ready to focus his mind on something different for a while. “I’d be glad to.”
She climbed into the loft and came back with a scroll. “My parents read this to me when I was little.”
He took the scroll from h
er hand. “Aesop’s Fables?”
She nodded and hopped onto the bed beside him.
He smiled a genuine smile at her. “I read these, too, when I was little.”
She beamed as she snuggled over against him. She rolled the scroll to reach one of her favorites and handed it to him. He put one arm around her, and she laid her head against his chest. He began to read aloud, and she followed along as he read.
Valeria entered the cottage to find Rhoda nestled against Decimus. How natural the two of them looked together. It was almost as if she was watching Gaius reading to Rhoda again. Decimus looked up at her, smiled a relaxed, contented smile, and continued reading. Rhoda looked so happy cuddled up against him. When he finally was well enough to leave, they would all miss him terribly. She was almost glad he’d delayed his departure by tearing his stitches.
It was a typical supper, with delicious food and happy conversation. Then it was time for their evening prayers, so Decimus left the table and lay down on his bed. Suddenly Rhoda stood beside him. When he looked up at her face, she took his hand.
“It’s my turn to pick the reading tonight. Will you come read it to me?”
She invited him with such a hopeful smile. He glanced at Valeria. She looked almost as hopeful as Rhoda. He hesitated, then swung his legs off the bed.
Why not? He enjoyed reading aloud, and it would make both Valeria and Rhoda happy. He stood and let Rhoda lead him to the chair.
She brought the codex from its special place in the cupboard at the end of his bed. After spreading a red cloth on the table to protect it, she turned to a page in the back half.
“I want this one tonight. It’s one of my favorite parables.”
She crawled into his lap and snuggled in like she had earlier that day. He put his arm around her and began to read.
“So Jesus told them this parable: ‘What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.’”