Yahshua's Bridge

by Sandi Rog

“Why not?” Alexander asked, surprised by the man’s response.

  “I’d have no way to survive. I only know how to be a slave.”

  “You can learn.”

  Haru shook his head, the moon reflecting off his black hair. “I don’t want to learn.”

  Alexander took a sip of the watered-down wine. “You remind me of my mother.” He shook his head. “She didn’t want to be free either.”

  “You must miss her.”

  Alexander stared off into the darkness, the large round moon lighting up their little camp, reminding him of his insignificance … and his loneliness, yet again.

  That night as Alexander lay curled up in one of the blankets Haru provided, something cold and metal pressed against his face. His eyes flew open. Strong cologne overwhelmed his senses. Before him stood a man in white Bedouin robes with the flat of his blade against Alexander’s cheek.

  “Where’s Maximus?” the man asked in Greek.

  Haru stirred next to him, likely grabbing for his sword.

  “No, Haru! Don’t give them a reason to kill you.” Alexander lifted his free hand toward Haru to put his blade down.

  Shadows surrounded them. Apparently, the tribe had finally arrived and several of them were watching. How did he not hear all these people arrive? How did they sleep through everything?

  “I said, ‘Where’s Maximus?’” The man knelt nearer Alexander. The moon’s light revealed the man’s white beard. He was older, not like the warriors Alexander had encountered earlier.

  “He left.” Alexander didn’t dare move for fear the man might turn his blade and cut him.

  “What do you mean, he left?” the man spoke between clenched teeth, clearly disappointed that he’d missed Maximus.

  “Why are you looking for him?” Alexander asked, fearful he already knew the answer.

  “To kill him, of course.”

  Alexander stiffened. Maximus was right to leave. “Wh … why?”

  “Because his son kidnapped my daughter.”

  The whites of the man’s eyes glowed at Alexander, the moon’s light casting a shadow partially over his face. So, this was Dakarai, his mother’s father … his grandfather.

  “But didn’t you do the same once?” Alexander whispered, his voice choked.

  His grandfather’s mouth pinched into a thin line. “Yes, but I made her my wife, not my slave.” He patted Alexander on the cheek with his blade. “And who might you be? The one with all the questions.”

  “I’m Alexander, son of Bahiti, grandson of Dakarai.”

  The man looked Alexander up and down, studying him.

  Remembering Jahi’s reaction to his mother’s bracelet, Alexander held up his arm, and with his free hand, jerked up the sleeve, just enough for the moonlight to catch on the gold.

  The man took Alexander’s arm, pushing back his sleeve, still holding the hilt of his blade. Alexander was glad it was off his cheek. His grandfather brushed his fingers over the armband. “I gave this to her.” He looked at Alexander, his gaze severe. “Why are you here? Why have you come?”

  Alexander swallowed. What if they rejected him? What if they wanted nothing to do with him, or worse, made him their slave? “I wanted to be with my family,” Alexander said, his voice resigned, and yet a glimmer of hope betraying him in its depths.

  The man looked at him, studied him as if taking his measure. “Jahi told me of your bravery, that you didn’t disappoint. You’re no coward.” He glanced over at Haru, then back at Alexander. “You want to be my grandson?”

  “More than anything,” Alexander said, his voice squeaking past his closing throat. He hated it when his voice did that, changing from high-pitched to normal. Why did it have to betray him on such an important night?

  Slowly, Dakarai cupped his face between his trembling hands. “So you shall.” Dakarai kissed him on both cheeks, the moon glistening in his eyes. “So you are!”

  Elianna was going to juggle … for money.

  Despite her friends’ protests, she raced home to collect Abba’s old juggling balls and rings. She knew it was improper, like her friends warned, but Elianna didn’t care much for propriety. Nothing was more boring.

  As she ran home, she hurried around the last corner and tripped to a stop on the wide stones paving the street.

  Marcus.

  He headed in her direction.

  She dodged to the side, hiding behind a column lining the portico beneath one of the apartments across the street from her own. If only she could make it across without Marcus noticing.

  He held Tatius under his arm and mussed his hair. Brianus laughed and slapped Tatius on the back.

  Elianna gritted her teeth. Why Tatius would want to play with such brutes, she didn’t understand. She ducked farther behind the pillar and hoped the crowd of shoppers would hide her.

  Marcus released Tatius and shoved him into Brianus. The two boys laughed, but not Tatius whose cheeks burned red under the bright sun. All three of them, bumping into one another, moved in her direction.

  Oh, please don’t let him see me.

  She missed Zander now more than ever. If Marcus ever found out that Zander was gone, there was no telling what he’d do to her if he got the chance. Zander had been gone for several months, with no news of returning. If only he were here now. She turned to bury herself in the crowd, but two large men, each carrying a pig, blocked her way. Gasping, she jumped back toward the column, but someone else bumped into her, knocking her into the street. Regaining her balance, she found herself right in Marcus’s path, facing him head on.

  His grin faded and his eyes narrowed. He glanced from side-to-side, likely looking for Zander.

  The busy street suddenly felt empty with no Zander to defend her. She stood her ground, bringing to mind Zander’s words. If you’re ever scared, don’t show it. Keep your chin up and look the enemy in the eyes. If he knows you’re afraid, he’ll come after you.

  Elianna lifted her fists, making ready to punch him if he tried anything, but her trembling hands betrayed her, and she had no idea how to throw a punch. She’d never hit anyone in her life.

  Marcus and Brianus laughed. Tatius joined in with a soft chuckle.

  “If you try anything, I’ll tell Zander!” Elianna said, still clenching her fists and wishing desperately that she could actually tell him.

  Marcus frowned. “You mean that slave of yours?”

  Elianna stepped back as the shoppers weaved their way around them. Why would he call him such a thing? But then she remembered that Zander indeed was a slave, though not anymore. Abba had talked to Demetri and found out that he had set Zander free. But Marcus didn’t have to know that, so she nodded.

  “I’ll tell him to get you, and he will.”

  Marcus’s gaze flickered from the shoppers over to the street, just enough to reveal that he might be afraid. She prayed he was.

  Then he pointed at Elianna’s chest and a shower of terror washed over her. “Well, I’m not afraid of him.” He pursed his lips, and then he looked back at his friends. He motioned to them, a slight tremble in his hand betraying his lack of confidence. “Let’s go.” He walked away, and his friends brushed past her, leaving her alone.

  Elianna released a long breath of air, only then realizing she’d been holding it. She turned to watch them amble up the street, looking around them, probably searching for Zander.

  Relieved, she unclenched her fists and lowered her arms. Fearing they might change their minds and come back for her, she ran for her apartment.

  She burst through the door and took the stairs two at a time, anxious to get Abba’s juggling equipment. Breathless by the time she reached the landing, she briskly clumped down the hall to her apartment.

  Using the key Abba made her wear around her neck, she opened the door. Mamma stood facing the window, her curly dark hair hanging free to her waist. She turned to face Elianna, her slender form silhouetted in the window.

  “Those boys didn’t hurt you, did they?”
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br />   “No. Zander made sure they wouldn’t try anything.”

  Mamma smiled, her shape framed by the sun. “Good for him.”

  Elianna always thought Mamma was the prettiest woman in all of Rome, and the sight of her now confirmed that belief. Remembering why she came, Elianna rushed to the basket underneath the bed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to juggle.” She left out the to make money part.

  “Umm. I don’t think you should use those. Your aunt Sarah made them and they’re special to Abba. He hardly ever uses them because he doesn’t want them to get damaged or lost.”

  “May I use his rings, then?”

  “He has them with him.”

  Elianna stared at the basket of juggling balls, their leather skins calling out to her, longing to be used. What would she do now if she couldn’t juggle?

  Pounding thudded on the door.

  Mamma rushed to open it.

  “It’s Julia!” A woman’s voice carried into their apartment, a woman from the church. “The baby’s coming!”

  Mamma grabbed her mantle off the chair and swung to Elianna. “I have to go. Julia’s in labor.” She pointed at the basket. “Don’t use those. I’ll make some for you.” Elianna nodded.

  Her mother flew through the door, the slam echoing in their small apartment chamber. Elianna looked back down at the leather balls. Her friends were waiting for her, maybe not as desperate to juggle as she, but waiting nonetheless. She could put the basket back under the bed, and no one would know they were gone. She’d use them just this once, and then she would return them without anyone ever knowing.

  Ω

  Near the Esquiline Gate in the plaza, Elianna juggled while singing a tune. Really, she wasn’t fond of singing in public, but if it meant she’d earn some money, she was willing to make the sacrifice. Usually, she didn’t like the attention of a crowd, but in this case, she delighted in it.

  Flavia and Idetta also no longer seemed to mind the impropriety of their actions, especially when those first bronze and silver coins clanked into their goblets. They stood on both sides of her as Elianna tossed the three balls in the air.

  She imagined that she was Zander. After all, he used to juggle for money. Is this what it felt like to make people smile? To make them laugh? It felt good all the way from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. How glorious to see people laugh, to bring something enjoyable into their boring lives. She knew all too well how it felt to be on their side of the show. It was thrilling watching Abba do something that most people couldn’t. And now she was the one doing something amazing.

  Several more onlookers stopped to watch. One man tossed a coin, and another, into Idetta’s goblet. She giggled with delight.

  Dare Elianna attempt one of the tricks where she would toss one ball really high and catch it while still juggling the other two? Abba had taught her that one, but she wasn’t sure she had a good grasp of it yet. Then she recalled Abba saying that taking a risk was what made one grow and become better. Even if one failed it was good to try because there was always a chance at success.

  “I’ve never had so much fun.” Idetta jumped up and down next to her.

  “What should we buy?” Flavia asked.

  Taking the risk, Elianna tossed one ball up high in the air, but someone snatched it before it could land in her hands.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Elianna caught the last two balls and looked up to see Uncle Paulus, Mamma’s brother, holding Abba’s leather ball in his fist. Would he give it back? She already knew Uncle Paulus despised Abba. If he knew the ball belonged to him, he might not return it.

  “You shouldn’t be doing this.” He motioned to Elianna, and then Idetta and Flavia who stood next to her, hugging their goblets of coins to their chests and staring down at their sandals.

  Seeing that the show was over, the onlookers began to walk away, going about their business.

  The frown on Uncle Paulus’s face told her he disapproved, and rightly so. “You’re as bad as your parents. You Christians are all missing something up here.” He pointed at his head, the ball still in his fist. “You want to take after that stupid slave boy? Good thing his influence is gone.”

  She always sensed his dislike for Zander, but his voicing it sent heat to her cheeks. “Don’t say that.”

  Paulus’s brows rose. Lips pinched together, he tossed the ball and caught it. For the first time, his tall form, dark hair and blue eyes, reminded her of Zander. Really, he wasn’t that much older than him. Sighing, he stopped to look at her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Eli-anna. Don’t be sad.” He tossed the ball again and grinned. “This is a day to celebrate. To be happy!”

  Elianna fought the urge to grab Abba’s leather ball out of his big hand. What if he kept it? How would she explain herself to Abba? She dreaded seeing the disappointment and sadness on his face when he found out she’d stolen Sarah’s juggling balls, the last ones she’d ever make for him.

  “Well, don’t you want to know?”

  “Know what?”

  “What I’m celebrating.” Paulus’s smile filled his face, his grin genuine. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile so big.

  “What’s to celebrate?” she asked, now curious.

  “With my friends, since my father won’t do it with me.” He wiped his nose on his wrist, the ball still in his hand. “I plan to dedicate my tunic to the gods.”

  It disturbed Elianna that Paulus never liked Yahshua. “Won’t Pappous be disappointed if you do that?”

  His eyes narrowed. “What do you know? You’re only eight, nothing but a child.”

  She didn’t know how to respond. All she cared about was getting Abba’s ball back.

  Smiling, he nudged toward her with his chin. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. I’m leaving today. Gonna make a life for myself. No more worshipping that stifling God of yours. Why do you people want to follow all those rules anyway?”

  Elianna never thought of Yahshua as having a lot of rules. If anything, she felt the Roman gods had too many rules to follow, with their holy days, rituals of sacrifice, and celebrations. Not to mention the difficulties in keeping track of them all. Following one God, one true God, was much easier in her opinion.

  “You really shouldn’t be spending so much time with these people.” He waved his hand around him in disgust. “These Christians, I mean. It’s not healthy. They’re bad for you.”

  Elianna swallowed. What could she say?

  “But I know you have no choice. Just like I never had a choice. But now that I’m seventeen, I do.” Paulus straightened, looking down his nose at her as if he were about to impart some great knowledge. “I’m leaving, Elianna.”

  “Where are you going?” A piece of her felt relieved that he was leaving, but guilt gnawed at her for that. She should feel sad that he was turning his back on Yahshua, especially after He died for him. How could Uncle Paulus turn his back on the one true God who cared enough to give His life for him? Why would he want any other gods?

  “I’ll miss you.” It was a lie, but it was all she could think to say.

  He stopped tossing the ball and looked at her, a hint of warmth reflecting in his cold, blue eyes. “Really?”

  She nodded. “First Zander left, and now you’re leaving.” Really, there was no comparison between the two losses, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

  A thoughtful expression crossed Paulus’s face. “You really miss that slave boy, don’t you?”

  Elianna nodded, wondering why he’d call Zander a boy when Paulus wasn’t that much older.

  “Why?” He put his hands on his hips, the ball still in one fist.

  She shrugged. “He was nice to me and he took care of me.”

  Paulus looked out over the dispersed crowd. Idetta and Flavia sat on the fountain as if awaiting a scolding.

  “You probably miss him more than you’re gonna miss me.” He half smiled.


  She didn’t know how to respond, since it was the truth.

  “What if I bring him back here for you?” He tossed the ball and caught it. “Would you like that?”

  “How?”

  “Look, I’m a man now. There’s a lot I can do. If you want that slave boy back, I’ll get him back for you.”

  “Wh … why?”

  “Because you deserve better.” He pointed at her, the ball still in his fist. “You shouldn’t be on the streets like this, juggling for money. These Christians are a bad influence on you. I’ll bring back your slave boy, and I’ll take care of you, find you a decent husband when you’re of age.”

  She stepped back. The thought of living under Paulus’s charge didn’t sound appealing at all. And there was only one person she wanted to marry. She certainly didn’t want anyone Uncle Paulus would pick out for her.

  “He’ll be your slave boy. No one else’s. You can do with him as you please.”

  Didn’t he realize that Zander had been freed? How could Paulus enslave Zander if he was finally free? If Paulus ever brought him back as a slave, she’d set him free again. That’s what she’d do. But could Paulus really bring him back? If he did and she set him free, Zander would be grateful to her. He might even love her for it. And they could be together. So, she nodded.

  “Good.” Grinning, he nodded too, as if relieved she had agreed with him. “It’s settled then.” He straightened. “It might be a while though. You have some growing up to do first. Until then, just stay out of trouble.”

  He turned to go, and she grabbed his arm, reaching for the ball.

  He chuckled, holding the ball above her head.

  “Please … give it back!” she cried out, her desperate tone betraying her.

  At that, he laughed. “Here, catch.” He tossed it high in the air. Then he caught it, holding it above her head.

  She jumped to get it. “Give it!”

  He laughed and continued to wave it above her head, keeping it out of her reach. “All right then. Here you go.” He tossed it up again, and again caught it for her, still holding it too high. She dropped the other two balls to save the one. What would Abba say? What would he do? He’d be so disappointed and hurt. She’d be in big trouble.