by Sandi Rog
“That’s not why I’m teaching him.” David continued to stand with his arms crossed. This was probably the only decent conversation they’d ever had, one Roman citizen to another, rather than one Roman citizen to a slave.
Demetri cleared his throat. “Why are you teaching him then?”
David cast Demetri a side glance. “So he can defend himself against his master.”
Demetri’s countenance fell, and he gazed hard at the sand at his feet.
Perhaps the man had a heart after all. David shook his head and looked back at Elianna who now sang another tune for the gladiator, still unaware the rest of them stood behind her.
Alexander, wrapped in his blanket, wandered from the portico with Bahiti out to Demetri. Color had returned to the boy’s face, and he looked more like his old self.
David wanted to hug him, take him into his arms, and thank him again for saving his daughter. But if he did that, Demetri might suspect their closeness and keep them apart.
Alethea and the doctor followed behind.
“Alexander is better.” Bahiti kept her chin down, not daring to make eye contact with Demetri. “We may go now.”
Demetri stared at Alethea, his gaze fixated on her in a way that made David move between them.
“Your son’s well, Demetri.” David watched him. “Why don’t you take the boy home. He needs rest.”
Demetri’s gaze flickered to David.
The procurator marched into the arena, a narrow purple stripe emphasizing the seams of his toga. “What are these women doing here?” Several servants followed him, and the iron gate banged open behind them. “And the girl? Get her out of here!” He spotted Alexander wrapped in a blanket. “This isn’t Tiber Island. Get out!”
“He smiled!” Elianna ran up to David. “He smiled at me!”
He scooped her up, and she blew a kiss to the chained man. David put his arm around Alethea and led them from the ludus. He glanced over his shoulder. Demetri escorted his family—his slaves— out of the arena.
As they walked, David hugged Elianna tighter to himself. He kissed her on the head, her curls tickling his nose. What a day this had turned out to be. Despite the past, David had hope for Demetri. If not for his sake, for Alexander’s. The boy needed a father, and only Demetri could fulfill that duty.
David shook his head. Demetri. How odd to have stood next to the man as his equal. As they made their way home, Alethea leaned closer to him, her soft form leaning against him; Elianna’s head rested on his shoulder. Thank Elohim everyone was safe. Safe and in his arms.
He nuzzled his nose in Elianna’s hair. It smelled of the filthy Tiber. He’d have to take her to the baths.
“What made you get on the raft?” he asked.
She lifted her head from his shoulder. “I wanted to be like Zander and do what he can do.”
“Why would you want that?” Alethea asked.
Elianna looked at Alethea then up at David. “You teach Zander how to fight, how to fall down, and how to juggle.” She lifted her hands like he should already know. “I want to learn something too.” Her lips puckered into an adorable frown. Did he detect a hint of jealousy in that pout?
“How about I teach you how to juggle?”
“Will you?” Elianna’s face lit up into a glorious smile.
David nodded.
That promise seemed to end all her concerns and she nestled into him again.
He released a deep sigh and squeezed her tiny form against him.
The memory of Elianna’s doll alone on the raft sent renewed shudders down his spine. After making his point, he’d finally released Aulus and the men verbally chastised David as they held him away. At that time, Alethea had shouted for Elianna and Alexander.
Then, David saw the doll.
Aulus forgotten, David knew his little girl was in the river.
He shook his head, thinking about how differently this day could have turned out had it not been for Alexander.
Really, had it not been for Aulus appearing when he did, none of this would have happened. Elianna would have been safe, because David wouldn’t have taken his eyes off her, and Alexander never would have had to risk his life.
David’s blood went hot and he gritted his teeth. Had it not been for that swine disrupting the day with his family, this near tragedy would never have taken place! The street shuddered with his fury as he neared their apartment. Elianna and Alexander’s life never would have been put in danger.
That dog nearly ruined his life for a second time.
David wanted to kill Aulus for what he did to his parents, to his mother. But now, rage remounted within him and grew with every step toward home, with every thought that he could be heading home without his little girl.
Ω
“Where’s Elianna?” David turned to Alethea in their small home.
Alethea stood in the doorway of their apartment. Sighing, she stepped inside and closed the door. By her furrowed brows, David knew she expected them to talk. About what, he didn’t want to know.
“I took her to Manius’s. Bahiti is watching her.” Alethea straightened, stiff like one of the pillars on the streets. “I can’t do this anymore. I have to worship Elohim the way He wants.” She took a deep breath. “With the brethren,” she whispered, placing emphasis on those last words.
For three weeks they’d held their own private worship services at home because Aulus was now with the church. He knew the loneliness was wearing on his wife and child, but he couldn’t stand the pain. The horrible thought of being there with Aulus, singing praises with such a vile person. The man had contaminated everything. Every good, decent part of David’s life. And now, he was infecting his family.
Again.
She stepped toward him and placed her hand on his chest, her deep brown eyes searching. “Have you prayed about this?” she whispered. “Have you asked God to help you with your anger?”
David turned away from Alethea, her words agitating every nerve, every fiber in his being. He raked a hand through his hair and paced. He hadn’t prayed since Aulus arrived. So, no, he hadn’t prayed about it. He gritted his teeth. Why ask God to help with his anger, when his anger burned toward Elohim as well? After all, God could have prevented this. He knew what Aulus had done to his family. Why did He allow that man back into his life?
“How can you be willing to worship with that monster?” He glowered at her. “You know what that man is.”
She pinched her lips together and nodded, her cheeks burning crimson. “Yes, I know what he is, or was. But … didn’t John’s last letter say … something about ….” Taking a long shuddering breath, her gaze darted around the room as if she might find the words on the walls surrounding them. She shrugged. “We can’t love God and hate our brother?”
Feeling like she’d tossed cold water in his hot face, David stopped pacing and turned on her. Was she actually accusing him of not loving God? The one thing he’d never failed to do? Always giving, always sacrificing. Despite the pain, despite the agony, despite his miserable circumstances.
“You need to pray about this, David. You need to ask Elohim to help you love Aulus.” She stepped toward him. “I mean, if we’re supposed to love our enemies, you should love Aulus, your brother. Just ask God to help you—”
“Don’t preach to me, woman!” His shout echoed off the walls of their small apartment.
Alethea gasped and stepped back, mouth open in horror. The silence after David’s roar reverberated through the room, but he stood rigid, towering over his wife, even with the few feet growing between them. Her pale face and wide eyes told him she was afraid. Her chest heaved. Not taking her gaze off David, she slowly shook her head and continued to back away.
Between clenched teeth, he took a deep breath to calm himself. He raised his palms and stepped toward her.
Crying out, she ran for the door.
David grabbed her arm and swung her around.
“No!” Alethea screamed and pushed agai
nst his chest.
David held her there.
She tried to twist away.
“Stop!” His voice sounded harsh, even to his own ears. He’d never seen Alethea so afraid. Not of him. His large hands, trying to subdue her, brought to mind his own mother when she fought against Aulus. It was like a knife plunging into his heart. “I won’t hurt you!” He choked out the words, fighting the agony, fighting the memory. He cupped her face and forced her to look at him. “I’d never hurt you.”
“I don’t know you anymore.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Yes, you do! You know me!” His voice was desperate, begging. “I’m the same man.” He kissed her, held her away, and looked her in the eyes, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I remained a slave because I love you. From the moment I first saw you, when you sang to me, I loved you. I would give my life for you. I did give my life for you.” He tried to swallow past the knot in his throat. “I would never, never hurt you.”
Still trembling, she placed her hands over his as he continued to cup her face.
David kissed her on the mouth until her lips softened and she returned his kiss, his tears mingling with hers. “I’d never hurt you.” He kissed her again, along each wet trail. Kissed away the salty stain, the warm drops as they rolled down her chin and over her mouth. “Never.” He kissed her until her trembling subsided, until she clung to his tunic and kissed him back. “Do you believe me? You have to believe me.”
She nodded.
He studied her face, her eyes, the dark-brown orbs revealing her soul. He could see she told the truth.
“You’re all I have.” He knelt and buried his face in her chest, pulling her down to him, holding her.
She clung to his tunic.
His fingers tangled in her hair, terrified he might lose her.
Ω
“He knows you’re here.” Manius paced the room as he spoke to Aulus.
Alexander drew invisible lines on the tiles, following the shadows of the flickering lights as Manius walked by him. He leaned back on the couch where his mother reclined, holding Elianna on her lap. David and Alethea still hadn’t arrived.
“That’s why he won’t come,” Manius said, his voice coated with worry.
“Then I need to go.” Aulus’s voice sounded hollow in the peristyle where the church gathered. The tension of the brethren overpowered the pleasant scent of the flowers adorning the indoor courtyard.
“No. You’re not leaving.” Manius faced Aulus. He turned and picked up a scroll from a high table and waved it at the congregation. “We read this just a few weeks ago. Have we already forgotten what it says?” He unrolled it, scanning for a particular passage. “‘If someone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for the one who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment we have from Him, that the one who loves God should love his brother also!’”
“Amen. Amen!” Other members of the congregation murmured their agreement.
Alexander wondered if David even believed that Aulus was his brother in Christ. If he believed that, Alexander felt certain David would react differently to the man. He looked over at Alethea’s father, Galen. He had been reclining on the cushions of his couch, but now he sat up, his elbows planted on his knees and worry pulling on his features.
Paulus, Alethea’s younger brother, leaned against Galen’s couch. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, clearly wishing he were somewhere else. Why did Galen force the boy to come when he was so miserable? Paulus always expressed his distaste for the church. How their God would want slaves, Hebrews, and Romans to be united and considered equal, Paulus didn’t understand. He showed little respect for David, and Alexander believed Paulus still saw David as a slave. No different than he saw Alexander. After all, Paulus grew up knowing David as a slave, so viewing him suddenly as a Roman citizen had to be difficult.
“Why do you people insist on worshipping a God that causes so much grief?” Paulus lifted his hands in aggravation. He hardly ever spoke, and because this outburst was so sudden and infrequent, all eyes turned on him. Even Galen looked at his son, speechless.
“Just look at yourselves!” Paulus motioned around the room in disgust. “What’s the point in attempting to please a God who accepts rapists, slaves and barbarians as His followers?”
“That’s enough, Paulus,” Galen said, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“God didn’t cause this grief.” Manius lifted his chin toward Pau- lus. “We did.”
Paulus slouched back against the couch his father sat on. Alexander had often witnessed Galen trying to convince Paulus of the ways of Christ, but to no avail. He once heard Galen say Paulus had too much of Aloysius in him. That was Alethea’s grandfather who attempted to murder Galen for his faith.
“Why were his parents arrested?” Aulus straightened on his stool, his voice calm and breaking through Alexander’s musings. “What happened?”
Manius turned away from Aulus. He placed the scroll back on the table. Alexander sensed he didn’t want to answer Aulus’s question.
“Clearly, David’s not going to tell me.” Aulus shrugged. “Why don’t you?”
Alexander studied Manius, hoping he’d explain why David was so upset. The entire situation confused him.
Manius sighed and slumped into a wicker chair. “They were betrayed by David’s grandfather, a Hebrew who could not accept his son’s new faith. Aaron and Miri were executed … and unexpectedly, so was David’s grandfather.”
Aulus rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the tiles. “So, they were persecuted for their faith.” He looked up and sighed. “All the more reason why I should leave.”
“No.” Manius jumped to his feet. “You’re not leaving!”
Aulus stood, rubbing the back of his neck. He walked over to Manius. “Do you see the tracks on my skin?” He faced the circle of brethren and chuckled. “Surely, none of you have overlooked all these scars on my flesh, my arms, my face?” He bent near Alexander, showing him the slashes on his arms.
Alexander studied the red tracks, jagged along his flesh, wondering why Aulus would point these things out.
“It’s been thirteen years.” Aulus straightened and faced everyone again. “By now, I thought those I’d offended would all be gone. Before I was a Christian, it was never my desire to persecute Christians. I was just a soldier doing my duty to Caesar and knew nothing of the church. I didn’t always know why I was making arrests.”
“When I heard you were coming back, I never told David why you’d left.” Manius lifted his fist in front of him, pleading with the brethren. “When Aulus gave his life to the Lord, his sins were washed away. Forgotten by God. Who are we to remember them?”
Paulus, always quiet, raked a hand down his face and frowned his disapproval.
Aulus put his hand on Manius’s shoulder. “There weren’t that many Christians,” Aulus said to the people, “but there were enough, that the pain was too great. Some were able to forgive the pain I caused, others weren’t. So I finally decided it was best for me to leave.”
“But this time that’s not necessary.” Manius faced Aulus. “David is a good boy. He remained faithful during his slavery, even taught others the truth. I have no doubt he’ll be able to make it over this hill.”
“Perhaps, someday. But this is no hill, it’s a mountain.” Aulus closed his eyes and nodded. “Either way, I will apologize as often as the boy needs to hear it.” He looked up at the ceiling. “But sometimes a simple apology isn’t enough, no matter how often it’s offered.” Again, he pointed at his scars. “A cut doesn’t heal just because a person apologizes. The wound is still there, and as you can see, sometimes it never disappears.”
“Does that mean we must mutilate the body to heal a wound?” Manius lifted his hands in the air as if pleading, and then rubbed his temples. “The church is the body. Don’t cut yourself off from us.”
Silence.
<
br /> Alexander thought about Manius’s words. If Aulus left the church, a part of the body would be cut off, broken. He didn’t want Aulus to leave Rome. Even though he knew little of the man, something about him appealed to Alexander, like he could tell him anything and not be judged or turned away.
“The boy needs time.” Aulus’s voice was firm. “Christ also taught patience and longsuffering. Love. My wounds are still apparent, but they no longer cause me pain. If David is the kind of person you say he is, someday, his wounds will heal.” Aulus pointed at Alexander. “It’s no different than if I took a knife to this boy.”
Alexander straightened, holding his breath.
“If I were to cut off this child’s foot and then apologize for it, do you think he’d stop crying? Do his tears mean he hasn’t forgiven me? Does the fact that he can no longer walk mean he hasn’t forgiven?” Aulus motioned to Alexander, making him more aware of every gaze on him, and his feet tingled with the thought of having one chopped off. “I cut off a part of David. The boy is bleeding! He needs compassion, understanding, healing.”
Alexander glanced around at the brethren. Some looked down at the tiles, others furrowed their brows, and others nodded in agreement. Paulus gazed at him with narrowed eyes and his mouth turned down in disgust.
“But even while Christ bled—” Manius’s tone was a forced calm, “—He asked the Father to forgive us.”
“Oh, I wish I knew my scriptures as well as you.” Aulus ran a hand down his face and then lifted his gaze to the people as if pleading with them. “David is not Christ. He is not perfect. That’s the point. That’s the whole reason we need Christ!” Turning around, he looked at everyone. “Do you not realize?” Aulus lifted his hands as if pleading. “David sees me through the eyes of a young boy. To him, I am a monster.” He shook his head. “And he’s right. That’s what I was. That’s how I treated his mother. It’s how I treated him.” He swallowed, staring at Alexander. “My presence is like plunging the knife and reopening the gash. Show him compassion. Treat his wounds.”
Alexander slung the heavy bag of armor onto his shoulder as he arrived at the ludus. A guard stood before the gate, a sword on his hip and a bored look on his face. As Demetri’s slave, Alexander came often. Today, he was sent to bring back Master Demetri’s supplies. He always had to go for the armor when Demetri got an itch to spar with one of the gladiators. Why Demetri couldn’t leave his armor at the ludus so Alexander didn’t always have to go back to get it, he didn’t know. Maybe Demetri didn’t want to share his armor with the other men, since it was so nicely polished. Polished by Alexander.