by Bryan Litfin
At Rex’s insistence, the pair had put some immediate distance between themselves and the Flavian Amphitheater. After a brisk walk, including several twists and turns, the tall Germanic warrior had finally allowed a stop. He had even been gallant enough to pay for Flavia’s meal at the hot food bar—an unexpected courtesy that suggested not all the barbarians were as barbaric as the history books claimed.
With her stomach full and her safety assured for the moment, Flavia took the opportunity to consider her next steps. Fortunately, they had meandered south from the amphitheater toward the Circus Maximus. Her family’s mansion on the Aventine Hill was only a little farther on. Flavia could be there within half an hour’s walk. Then she could regroup and make a plan. Her father would surely compensate Rex well for his bravery.
Flavia turned toward her unexpected rescuer as they sat on a bench outside the restaurant. “How do you plan to spend the money?” she asked. “Any grand ideas?”
Rex arched his eyebrows as he returned Flavia’s glance. “Money?”
“You know—your reward. I just wondered what you dream of doing
with it. I mean, I don’t really know you. Actually, you’re the first German I’ve ever met! I’m curious. What will you do with the extra spending money?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lady Junia.”
Flavia took a closer look at Rex. He was no doubt a handsome man—in fact, one would have to say “beautiful” to properly describe the chiseled perfection that so often characterized the Germani. Though Rex’s beard was scruffier than Flavia would have preferred, there was no hiding his manly good looks. The jut of his chin was strong, and he had the lean cheeks of a fit, athletic man. His exotic blue eyes and long blond hair only added to his mystique. Yet right now, the brash self-assurance that so often marked attractive men had been replaced by what seemed to be genuine confusion. A realization dawned on Flavia: perhaps Rex’s daring rescue was in no way motivated by monetary compensation.
The thought was disconcerting.
What else could it be, then? What does he really want from me? In fact, who is this man? And why am I sitting beside him eating sausages like we’re old friends?
Flavia shifted her position on the bench, unconsciously pulling back a little from Rex. “I . . . well, I guess I just assumed you were helping me in hope of a reward,” she said sheepishly.
“That thought never crossed my mind.”
“So then—why?”
“Because you had a need,” Rex answered simply, “and I knew I could meet it.” The barbarian’s cockiness came flooding back as he flashed Flavia a broad grin. His teeth were even and white, and she found his smile endearing. He leaned closer, a lock of his long hair dangling across his face. “Of course, it didn’t hurt that I was immediately attracted to you,” he added.
Though Flavia had always considered herself adept at bantering with the boys, she now found herself fumbling for a witty reply. As her mouth hung open in awkward silence, she felt a rush of warmth rise to her cheeks. I’m blushing! she realized. And even with all this makeup, I know he can see it! The horrifying realization only made Flavia’s face grow hotter.
Chuckling to himself, Rex stood up. “Come on, pink cheeks. We’ve waited here long enough. It’s time to move. We’ve got to figure out your next destination.”
Though Flavia was glad for the change of topic, Rex’s announcement seemed strange. “Next destination?” she asked. “What do you mean? Where else would I go but home?”
“Home? Lady Junia, you can’t go home! That’s the first place anyone would look! They’ll have you back in the amphitheater before you can settle down to your next sausage. You’re going to have to disappear for a long time while your father gets your legal situation under control. If you show up in any familiar setting, you’re as good as dead.”
“Oh my! I guess I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
The burden of dread that Flavia had been carrying since her arrest— which Rex’s rescue had alleviated—settled on her again. She put her hand to her forehead, feeling unsteady. Where can I go if not home? Who can help me?
“Maybe I could go to my bishop?” she suggested.
“You’re a Christian?”
“Mm-hmm. All my life.”
“It might work. I hear they’re charitable toward their people. Are there any temples near here?”
“There’s a house of worship up that street, the Scaurus Rise. It’s called the House of Byzans. I don’t know any of the brethren there, but you’re right—we Christians do take care of our own, whoever they may be.”
“Hey! Look at this!” Rex grinned as he reached to his collar and pulled out a necklace. “Maybe I can pass for a Christian too!” The pendant was marked with a superimposed tau and rho, the powerful sign of Jesus.
“Where did you get that?” Flavia asked, intrigued by the discovery. Evidently, there’s more to this barbarian than I thought!
“I’ll tell you the story sometime. For now, let’s go see if we can find you some shelter at your temple.”
It’s a house of worship, not a temple, Flavia thought, but she realized now wasn’t the time to discuss the finer points of theology with the pagan who was being so kind to help her.
The House of Byzans was actually much more than a simple house church. Over time, the Christians of this neighborhood had come to possess an entire city block. Though the ground floor consisted of rented shops under a covered portico, the upper two floors had been converted into a spacious assembly hall accessed by a monumental staircase. Beautiful Christian frescoes decorated the walls. Flavia had seen this place once when she was a little girl, but she hadn’t been back since.
As she started to cross the street toward the building, Rex grabbed her arm. “Turn around and walk this way,” he whispered.
She pointed to the apartment block. “But the church—”
“Just do it!”
Rex was walking double time in the opposite direction. Suddenly he darted down a side alley.
“What’s the matter?” Flavia asked, hurrying to keep up.
“There are spies outside the temple.”
“How do you know?”
“Trust me, I know them when I see them.”
“Why would there be spies?”
Rex turned and looked intently at Flavia. “Who knows you’re a Christian? Is it common knowledge?”
“Nobody makes a big show of it these days. Not when we just had a terrible persecution that only ended recently.”
“Do your political enemies know?”
“Yes.”
Rex nodded gravely. “That’s why the churches are being watched.”
“So what do we do next?” Flavia’s heartbeat had accelerated now, and her legs felt shaky. She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry.
“You there!” a gruff voice shouted from behind. “Stop in the name of Maxentius!”
Rex grabbed Flavia’s hand. “We run,” he said, and yanked her into action.
Though Rome possessed several long, straight avenues, most of its streets hadn’t arisen from the kind of careful urban planning that the empire now imposed on its new colonies. The tangled streets of Rome were instead the product of a thousand years of organic growth. Rex didn’t know his way through this maze, but that didn’t matter. The only place he was trying to reach was anywhere else than where he was. He felt confident he could lose the Praetorians in such a cramped and crowded labyrinth.
Lady Junia Flavia, though an aristocratic girl, was turning out to be more athletic than Rex would have guessed. As the pair dashed through the streets, dodging pedestrians and making quick direction changes, she stayed right by his side. “This way!” he called, switching into a narrow lane with an entrance that was hard to see. It would take only one such disappearance, unnoticed by the pursuers, to bring the chase to an end. So far, though, it hadn’t happened. In fact, more guardsmen seemed to be arriving every moment to tighten the noose.
Rex and Flavia continued to sprint through the maze of apartment blocks and market stalls, constantly eluding the opportunists who made grabs for them. The soldiers were shouting for help from the bystanders, offering a reward, so numerous people found it worth their while to try to apprehend the fleeing outlaws. Most of them lunged for Flavia, but whenever her feisty squirming didn’t break her loose from their grasping hands, Rex’s approach quickly persuaded them to let go. At one point he overturned a wagonload of terracotta jars, spilling olive oil across the cobblestones. Although the trio of soldiers in pursuit slipped and fell in the mess, Rex knew other potential captors lurked around every corner.
“We’ve got to get out of these crowds,” he said, scanning the way forward, alert for one of the many gardens and parks in this part of Rome. He thought a secluded patch of greenery would make a better place to hide than the busy streets—so long as they could get there unseen.
Flavia let out a sudden gasp. “Praetorians up ahead!” she cried, ducking into the shadow of an awning. Rex joined her, panting. Though the guardsmen moved on, more would soon be coming. Rex knew they couldn’t afford to stand still.
A giant man who reeked of body odor rose up in front of the two fugitives. He seemed as bulky as some ogre out of the ancient myths. “Got you!” he growled, grabbing Rex’s forearm. Flavia squealed and jumped back, but Rex’s instinct was honed by years of hard training. As every speculator knew, sheer size meant little in hand-to-hand combat. What mattered was how you used your body—where you exerted force, which contact points you made, what angles you took. The swarthy brute holding Rex’s arm knew none of that, so he was actually as harmless as a cow chewing its cud in the pasture. And he was about to learn it the hard way.
Rex gripped the man’s tunic and twisted him until all his weight rested on one leg. Hooking his opponent’s ankle, Rex then took out his only support, which hurled him to the pavement like a heavy sack dropped at the end of a journey. The man’s breath burst from him as he hit the ground. To add to his confusion, Rex delivered a hard kidney punch and three head shots in quick succession. The man gurgled and moaned as Rex stood over him. His eyes were closed, and his nose was a bloody mess.
“How did you do that?” Flavia exclaimed. “I thought that monster was going to kill you!”
Rex shook his head. “There’s no man around here who can kill me.” He glanced over Flavia’s shoulder, then pointed down a long, dim alley between two high-rise tenements. “See that green up ahead? That’s a garden. Let’s make a break for it. I think we’ll be safer there. Ready?”
“I’ll follow you, Rex. Lead the way.”
He started to move, then paused. A playful smile came to his face. “That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name,” he observed.
“I guess that makes us friends,” Flavia replied saucily.
The senator’s daughter looked up at Rex with her wide, bright eyes. She had garish blue liner on her eyelids and streaks of rouge on her cheeks, now smeared and overlaid with grime. A lone shred of pink ribbon dangled in her dark, tousled hair. Her rose-colored tunic was a filthy mess. But none of that mattered. Rex stared at Flavia for a long moment, unable to tear his eyes away. By the gods, she’s a pretty one, he marveled, then shook away the thought and tossed his head toward the alley. “Come on, let’s go,” he said as he broke into a run. Flavia followed right behind.
The alley opened into one of the neighborhood plazas around which so much of Roman life was centered. Just beyond it was the large, green park. But as the pair was about to make a final dash for it, five Praetorians appeared from a street on the left. The men were well armored, and their swords were drawn. They spotted the fugitives and started forward. Rex’s only choice was to cut right. He rounded a corner, then skidded to a halt.
“Dead end!” Flavia cried, whirling. “Go back! Quick!”
But it was too late. The five Praetorians had them trapped. They fanned out and began to creep closer, holding their swords low. Their expressions were wary yet confident. Rex drew his pitiful bronze dagger and began to plan his first steps.
“Same reward for the German, dead or alive,” one of the men remarked to his buddies.
“I prefer dead,” another said, his eyes not leaving Rex’s face.
“How about alive but dismembered?” a third quipped. The joke brought cruel laughter from the others.
Rex bent to the ground and picked up a heavy brick, handing it to Flavia. “When I put a man down, you have to smash him hard in the throat. Strike to kill.”
“I can’t do that!”
“You have to,” Rex said firmly, “because they’ll do the same to us.”
“I thought you said no man can kill you!”
“I said no man. These are five men. And they all have swords.” Mentally, Rex steeled himself for what was about to come. He knew he was going to get cut. The only question was whether he could subdue five fully armored Praetorians before he took a fatal wound himself.
The soldiers drew close. One of them, more eager than the others, made a lunge toward Rex. And so it began.
Sidestepping, Rex seized the soldier’s outstretched wrist and yanked his overextended opponent forward, while at the same time twisting the sword from his hand. The man fell face-first into the gravel. It took nothing more than a thrust of Rex’s newly acquired sword into the base of the man’s spine to keep him there. Though the soldier started screaming and flailing his arms, nothing below his waist was moving anymore.
Armed now with a sword as well as his dagger, Rex eyed his remaining opponents. They fell back at the unexpected display of skill.
“How much is your life worth?” Rex taunted. “A couple of extra coins? Some of you are going to die today even if you take me down. What’s the chance it won’t be you? Are you willing to play games with your life for such a small reward?”
“He can’t defeat four of us at once!” the tallest soldier said. “Rush him!”
Rex had been hoping no one would say that—because it was true. Help me, Hercules, he prayed, then added for good measure, Jesus, help me too!
The four men converged, but Rex maneuvered into open space, creating maximum mobility and forcing his opponents to spread out again. A flurry of parries and counterthrusts kept the attackers at bay, and Rex even managed to draw blood from two of them. He dodged around chunks of debris and kept moving his feet so the men couldn’t attack him simultaneously. Yet the constant effort of eluding four assailants required an exertion Rex knew he couldn’t keep up.
“Press the attack!” the tall soldier cried, glancing at his comrades to encourage them. The error was fatal, for no sooner had he looked away than a lightning-quick stab from Rex’s sword caught him in the low belly beneath the hem of his chainmail shirt. The man collapsed to his knees, clutching his gut. Blood oozed between his fingers. Visceral wounds always festered, and this one would be no exception.
With two comrades down, the three remaining soldiers mustered a new level of determination. Their fury quickly forced Rex into a corner. Though he tried to persevere through the wearying effect of the mismatch, he could feel his strength ebbing away. Dread seized him as he realized the battle had just taken a deadly turn. “Run!” he managed to shout from the cloud of sweat and dust that surrounded him.
Yet behind the attackers, he saw Flavia do just the opposite. The slender waif picked up a bloody sword, grasped it in two fists, and prepared to make a rear assault on three elite soldiers of the Roman army. Rex was certain she would have followed through, had not a second warrior burst into the fray at that very moment—a colossus whose long braid flew about his head like a proud war banner catching the wind.
Geta was a true brother-in-arms, a man to fight beside when the battle took a deadly turn. Like so many times before, Geta had once again located his comrade in a moment of desperate need. The man was a savage beast amid defenseless lambs, dealing out destruction to his prey before they knew what hit them. Now that the Pra
etorians had to divide their attention, they were no match for the highly trained speculators. In a flash, the three remaining soldiers went down with grievous wounds. The battle was over before Geta had even winded himself.
A sudden quiet descended on the dead-end alley. Panting heavily, Rex surveyed the scattered bodies that lay on the ground before him. Three of the groaning men would eventually heal; the fourth would live but never walk again; and the fifth would die in a few days from a gut infection. But Rex was alive, and—thank Hercules—his own wounds were superficial. That certainly wouldn’t have been the case had his friend not arrived to bail him out.
Rex turned toward Flavia, who was standing off to one side, covering her mouth and staring at the carnage. Her face was pale, and she was trembling badly, sword still in hand. He approached her and rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Jesus said to turn the other cheek,” she whispered.
“Aristotle said we make war so we can live in peace.” Rex waited for a moment, then took the weapon from her fingers and spoke gently once more. “Come on, Lady Junia. Let’s get you out of here.”
“Allow me to get that for you,” Geta said, reaching up to a tree limb. “Duck your head, my lady.”
He politely held aside the branch to let Flavia pass into an artificial grotto surrounding a trickling fountain adorned with sculptures of frolicking fauns and nymphs. The air inside the shady nook was cooler than the rest of the park, and Flavia was grateful for the relief, for she was hot and sweaty. Rex and his friend Geta had decided that this little nymphaeum in the Gardens of Pallas was the perfect place to hide until they developed a plan. The shrubbery had grown thick around the moist grotto, providing good cover, yet a secret path curved behind the fountain and ran through a tall hedge should a quick escape become necessary.
Flavia immediately approached the fountain with Rex at her side, for both were eager to slake their thirst. They cupped their hands beneath a stream of water dribbling from the jar of a dancing maiden while Geta kept watch through the shrubbery.