by Sandi Rog
She leaped up. “Didn’t find him?”
David slumped onto the bed, his head in his hands.
Alethea crawled up behind him and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back.”
“What makes you say that?”
Alethea hung over his shoulder and took hold of his chin so she could look him in the eyes. “He’s like you.” She smiled. “You always came back when you tried to leave.”
David pulled Alethea onto his lap and nuzzled her neck, guilt pulling at him for finding any pleasure with Alexander still out there alone. “I had an Alethea waiting for me, needing me. Alexander doesn’t.”
Alethea giggled and scooted away. She turned to face him as she leaned against the dressing table. “Maybe in a way he does?”
David shook his head, confused, his arms feeling empty without her. “What are you talking about?”
Alethea turned to the table and lifted the uncut amethyst stone dangling from its leather rope.
David still didn’t understand.
She glided toward him and let the purple, star-shaped jewel dance before his eyes. “Alexander needs a family. We can be that family.” She leaned on his knees. “He’ll come back. I know it. He’s too much like you. And when he does, he’ll have a new family waiting for him.”
David took the stone in his hands. It was a betrothal gift to him from Galen when he asked to marry Alethea. And now, Alethea was suggesting they offer the stone—Elianna—to Alexander.
“Just don’t tell her,” Alethea said, urgency in her tone. “If she knows, she won’t like him anymore.” She half smiled as they both remembered her nightmarish betrothal to Demetri.
David wanted more than anything to call Alexander his son. And this would be perfect.
“I want our little girl to have a man like you,” Alethea whispered. “Someone who will protect her. Someone good inside.”
David nodded, unsure about her statement. How good was the boy if he was so much like him? “No one is good,” he whispered, worrying all over again about the boy’s whereabouts. If only he could be as sure as Alethea that he would return. Anxiety pulled his nerves taut, and he could no longer give in to the pleasure of his beautiful wife.
Ω
Hands stiff, swollen and covered in dried blood, Alexander passed under the Esquiline Gate and came out onto the busy plaza. Morning buyers crowded the streets like bees gathering honey, and despite the buzz in his mind, he knew what to do. It was time to buy his freedom, and nothing would stop him.
As he made his way down the street toward Manius’s house, Elianna cried against a wall, a blond boy hovering over her, shouting. What he was shouting, Alexander didn’t know, nor did he care. It had to be Marcus. The boy Elianna had been running from, the boy who terrorized her.
Elianna tried to move away and go around the boy, but he pushed her back and pinned her there.
“Stop!” Elianna shouted. “Leave me alone.” She cried, her hands covering her face.
The numbness in Alexander’s body reawakened to fire. Hot exploding rage catapulted him toward the boy. He grabbed Marcus by the neck of his tunic and slammed him against the wall.
“Don’t ever touch her again!” Alexander’s voice didn’t sound anything like the person he knew. The boy inside of him had fled, replaced with someone else.
Marcus swallowed visibly, his face pale and his eyes wide.
“Do you hear me?” Alexander shook him. He wanted to make sure the boy never touched Elianna again.
Marcus nodded.
Alexander got in his face and spoke between clenched teeth, “I don’t hear you.”
“Y … yes,” the boy said, his voice quivering.
Alexander leaned in close. “If I ever see you near her again,” he said in a harsh whisper, “ I’ll kill you.” He didn’t mean the words, but they felt good on his tongue. Like what a snake must feel when spewing deadly venom into its enemy. Oh, how he longed to do this to Demetri.
Alexander let him go, and the boy ran.
Trembling, Alexander turned to find Elianna hiding behind him, tears staining her rosy cheeks. She didn’t say anything, just stared at him as if she’d never seen him before.
He wanted to ask if she was well, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Instead, he nodded toward her as he offered her his hand and led her to Manius’s gate.
Ω
With the lawyer Manius had hired on one side of him and Manius on the other, Alexander stood before Demetri. Hands trembling, he took a deep shuddering breath as he set the last of his wealth before his master. The weight of the amphora vessel cracked on the stone tiles, and the bronze, silver and gold coins spilled forth like a glimmering wave at their feet.
“As you can see, the boy has more than enough to purchase his own freedom.” The confident lawyer motioned toward the six vessels aligned before them. “He should not be expected to use all of it. What’s left, he can use to obtain a living for himself.”
Alexander could barely breathe in the small chamber amongst all these men as he waited for the master’s answer. With all eyes but the master’s looking at him, it made him more conscious of the beautiful amethyst stone weighing against his worn-out tunic and beating chest. David made him promise one thing when he offered him the stone. Elianna is to be yours on one condition: that you remain faithful to the Lord. Alexander prayed he would never fall away from Elohim. It was a great honor to be a part of David’s family. He would have a family now—a father.
One of the men surrounding Demetri cleared his throat.
The master lifted a hand to the man, as if to say, not yet, or don’t move.
Alexander’s heart beat faster. Why didn’t he answer the lawyer? How long must they stand there? Seeing the narrowed look in one of the larger men’s eyes, Alexander wished David was present for this meeting, but Demetri wouldn’t allow it. In fact, Alexander didn’t recognize any of the men standing around as if to protect the master. What was Demetri so afraid of? Did he actually fear that Alexander would harm him, could harm him? No doubt, he wanted to. His fists itched to pummel the man. To squeeze the life out of Demetri like he did his mother. But Alexander had prayed. Prayed fervently for Elohim to help him not to sin. And he did everything in his power— God’s power—to keep himself under control. Here he stood before his master, the man who murdered his mother, and he was able to keep from lunging at him. Wonder of wonders.
With more words, the lawyer tried to convince Demetri to grant Alexander his freedom. He was grateful the lawyer did all the talking. If Alexander had to speak, he was sure he’d lose control, whether in fury or in tears. He didn’t know which. But now silence had fallen again, so he waited. Waited for the answer he’d longed to hear for years. He held his breath, afraid to breathe. All the times juggling, slipping away in the night, and dodging carts on the dark streets passed through his mind. Surely, Demetri would let him go. Surely, after all the man had done to him, he’d grant him this one wish.
The length of Demetri’s consideration crowded in on Alexander’s hopes. What if he said no? Alexander could never live under this man’s roof, could never take orders from him again without . without giving in to his base desire … the desire to see the master’s blood on his hands.
Demetri shook his head and paced. Finally, he stopped and looked at the lawyer. “No.”
Alexander blinked, watching Demetri’s face. It must be a jest. This couldn’t be real.
The lawyer argued with Demetri, argued in words and vocabulary that Alexander didn’t understand, but Demetri kept shaking his head, not looking Alexander in the eyes.
As a matter of fact, not once had the master looked at him directly since this meeting began, since he walked into the master’s office chamber with no room to sit for all the body-guards filling the small space. The heat and stench of their bodies permeated the chamber. It reminded Alexander of the gladiators at the ludus, of Gervas who tried to rape him, of all the times he watched them tr
ain, polished the master’s armor, listened to the gladiators call him pretty, ducked the master’s fists during his drunken stupors, or fought drowning in the impluvium. Perhaps he wouldn’t spend the days dodging his abuse—or running to it anymore. After all, he had no mother left to rescue. He suddenly felt hollow, as if all of this was for nothing.
“I said, no.” Demetri lifted his chin, narrowing his gaze on the lawyer.
The word, the finality of it hit Alexander like a stone slab across the face. The room swam. Alexander stood before his master amongst all these smelly men, drowning in their stench, holding his breath, and playing dead in hopes of being rescued. But who would rescue him now? The lawyer had failed, he couldn’t convince the master.
Manius put his hand on Alexander’s shoulder, whether for comfort or to hold him back, he didn’t know. He needed air. Freedom. But his master wouldn’t grant him that. Not one small hint of acknowledgment flickered in Demetri’s eyes, just his avoidance. No different than his avoiding Alexander as his true son. His only son. The only thing Alexander was to receive was the master’s punishment. And for what? For longing to be loved? For craving freedom? For needing to save his mother?
The echo of Demetri’s answer carried through Alexander’s head, bouncing inside his skull until it became a ball of fire consuming every corner of his mind, consuming his body and consuming every limb.
Wailing and burning with grief, Alexander fell forward. Not because he lunged at his master, but because his legs buckled beneath him. All his hopes, his dreams, had come to an end.
Shouts echoed from all around, and in a heaping wave, hands, arms and bodies were on him. Too many. He couldn’t twist free. He didn’t even try. A giant slammed his head into something hard and thrust him to the ground. A man pressed Alexander’s cheek into the pile of spilled coins—spilled dreams. Shadows clouded his vision, and darkness consumed him.
Ω
Splintered wood pricked Alexander’s cheek and his head throbbed. Sounds of snoring and sleeping bodies carried around him, lulling him in and out of consciousness.
The short burst of a snore, then lips smacking, forced him to pry open his eyes.
Darkness.
The scent of human waste suffocated him and he gagged. He pushed up onto his knees, convulsing. His head punished him for it.
The room groaned.
Were the walls caving in?
The chamber tilted, and someone nearby moved against his legs. The sounds, the smells, were like those of a boat, like the boats that would bring in horses from Alexandria. He must be in the bowels of a ship. Bound for where, he didn’t know.
Tiny feet skittered across the floor. Mice. More than one. But he didn’t care. His head hurt too much to move.
How’d he get here? He racked his brain. Then he remembered Demetri, his men pinning him on the ground. He recalled moving in and out of consciousness. At one point, Demetri took the amethyst stone from around his neck.
No! he’d shouted, but it came out in a wail of agony.
The stone.
His hand flew up. He felt around his neck and chest. He clutched the woolen tunic in his fist.
Gone.
Again, the ship groaned, echoing Alexander’s inner wails at having lost such a precious gift.
He remembered David holding it up to him, the purple, uncut stone lancing the sun’s rays across David’s tunic and the chamber. It’s all I have to give, David had said.
Alexander had been so stunned, he thought he’d fallen into such a deep sleep back at the villa that perhaps he’d wake up and find himself still lying there. David trusted him, not only with the unique stone, but more importantly, with his precious daughter.
Alexander had taken the stone into his hand, admiring the dark purple center as it shifted to lavender along the narrowing spikes that formed a star.
But what if he doesn’t set me free? Alexander had asked.
He will, David had said with such confidence Alexander had believed him.
Now, Alexander slammed his fist on the floor and cried, his head aching with each moan.
“Why?” he shouted.
“What?” A voice thick with sleep shot out of the darkness. “What is it?”
“He’s awake?” Another voice came to him, sounding stunned and breathless.
Thick beefy hands pinned him back down on his stomach.
“I told you we should’ve kept him shackled.”
“And I told you the master wouldn’t have it. Once we left the Tiber, we were to unbind the whelp.”
Their words barely made sense to Alexander. He recalled several men holding him down as another bound his wrists and ankles in shackles. All while the master stood over him, fists on his hips and barking orders.
Was the master here?
“Listen, boy. We won’t hurt you if you don’t try nothin’.” The stale breath of the man holding him down nauseated Alexander. “Be a good boy, now.”
Alexander lay motionless. He’d lost his will to fight. He had nothing. Manius and David had been certain Demetri would set him free. How could they have all been so wrong? And now, David’s precious stone was gone. David would now regret having given Alexander his daughter—he’d given her to a slave! No Roman citizen could marry a slave.
His head beat like a drum. Fighting the weight of the man was too painful. His cheek rested on the hard, wooden floor. No. He wouldn’t fight. He couldn’t fight.
Where was Demetri? Was he somewhere on this ship? Perhaps Alexander had been sold? The thought made him moan. It was too much to think about right now.
As he lay there, he let the darkness swallow him.
Ω
“Thought you would’ve put up more of a fight.” The man tore into his stale bread and chomped on a chunk of moldy cheese. He chewed it as he wiped the corner of his mouth. “Your master told us you could fight.”
Alexander sat against the bulkhead, his knees pulled up to his chest, as he took in the people around him. Light from the upper deck came in from the nearby stairs, lancing rays of sun over the wooden floor. The man slobbering before him sat on a wooden chest. A thick chain locked it shut and Master Demetri’s name was carved into it. The other barbarian had perched himself on the floor next to him.
For nearly two weeks, he watched the same people roll up their beds and prepare their meals, all in the belly of the ship. Alexander was allowed on the upper deck for fresh air on occasion, but most of the time, he was forced by the two men escorting him to stay below. The stench of human waste grew to extremes at night, while during the day the people emptied their pots overboard. How odd to think the human waste had more freedom than him. How odd to think it no longer smelled as bad as it did the first night on the ship. He never thought he could grow accustomed to such a stench.
“Guess he ain’t gonna talk, neither,” the other man said before guzzling his watered-down wine.
“Why should I?” Alexander shrugged, unsure he could really fight off these two giant-like men. Interesting that Master Demetri thought he might. “Where would I go?” He’d already contemplated jumping overboard, but when he heard the ship was headed toward Alexandria, he decided to stay.
“We’ll be arriving soon anyway.” The man pointed his bread at Alexander. “Before the ship docks, you’re going back in chains.”
“Then I’ll be sure to jump first,” Alexander mumbled, thinking how stupid these two brutes were to tell him that much. Still, it was the most he could drag out of them. Really, he doubted the men knew much, other than where he was to be delivered, and even that information wasn’t readily available. Apparently, it was all explained in a scroll to be opened upon arrival. Someone Demetri knew near the docks was to sign it as a witness that the men obeyed orders or they wouldn’t get their money.
Demetri hadn’t come on this farewell journey, and all Alexander could hope for was a better master on the other side of the sea. He thought of escaping, but he was too exhausted and weak to try. Sure, he threate
ned to jump ship, but he wasn’t sure he had the strength to make it to shore. He’d hardly eaten, hardly moved, other than when he walked on deck, chained to one of Demetri’s hired thugs.
Why’d he sell him? Why couldn’t the master give him his freedom? The only answer was fear. Demetri was afraid of what Alexander would do to him. Could he blame him? He shook his head and raked his hands through his matted hair. Defeat weighed down his shoulders, his whole aching body. He had no will to fight. Everything he had earned was gone, taken from him. How could Demetri steal his coins? All that time and effort. All that hard work for nothing. He could try to earn his freedom again with his next master, but what if the same thing happened? Alexander couldn’t bear the disappointment.
He’d always be a slave. He should be used to it by now. If only the chains weren’t so heavy.
What had he done wrong? He was all alone. Everything dear to him, gone. Now, he had nothing. Not even a hint of hope.
He would give in to the chains of slavery. He’d grow accustomed to them, even learn to like them. After all, they were old friends, companions.
Ω
Chains weighed down his chafed wrists and ankles as Alexander leaned against the side of the ship. His forehead rested on the damp, splintered wood. Feeling small and insignificant, he didn’t even bother looking up anymore at the glorious sight of the Portus Magnus. The distant lights of Alexandria ahead flickered against the black sky, calling to him like a harlot with its irresistible charm, tempting him to take in its beauty when all that awaited him was torture from an unknown master. They’d already passed by the Pharus on their right. The lighthouse shot over them like a majestic torch on the night sky, taunting Alexander with its significance, blocking out all the stars that moments ago pierced through the darkness. He was nothing but an unworthy pebble, an ant to be squashed, compared to the majesty surrounding him, the masts billowing in the wind, and the sea churning along the ship’s hull.
Who was he compared to all these wonders? Who was he that his God would hear him, feel his pain? The Maker of the sea on which he now sailed, the One who held the sea back from the land, the One who placed the ability in mankind to create such amazing wonders.