by Sandi Rog
“How much for this one?” Pappous asked the slave-auctioneer.
The man answered and they haggled over the cost until they came to an agreement, and Pappous made his purchase.
Elianna shivered. Although she reminded herself that this man was here to protect her, she couldn’t help but wonder who would protect her from him. She wasn’t sure she liked this deal. This man was scary. She tugged on Pappous’s arm. “Will he hurt me?” she asked, her worst fears bursting from her mouth, but Pappous didn’t hear as he asked some final questions of the seller.
Glancing over her shoulder she saw Titus watching her, looking down at her, and every time he did, she couldn’t help but feel privileged that he’d take the time to acknowledge her humble presence from his lofty height. Slave or not, this man was too good for where he stood, and she wondered if he was a king or a prince from some foreign land.
The man held her gaze, a long steady locking of the eyes. Had he heard her question? Again, she swallowed, her throat dry.
“I would never harm the daughter of David,” he said, his voice deep and resonate, with such intensity. His words could have carved themselves in stone.
Suddenly, Elianna felt her value as a human being significantly promoted, and she swelled with pride. How could the words of this man have such a powerful impact on her self-worth? She didn’t know, but she was delighted that he cherished her, just like Pappous and others she loved. It felt like Abba was near. In fact, because Titus knew Abba and Mamma, she felt an immediate kinship with him.
Despite Titus’s firm conviction toward Elianna, she couldn’t help but notice the wariness in his gaze when it fell on Pappous.
“Pappous won’t hurt you. He’s a good man,” Elianna whispered, trying to reassure Titus that Pappous wasn’t an abuser of slaves—not that she thought Pappous would even have the strength to overpower this man. “He was a slave too, once. So, he knows what it’s like.”
Chin held high, Titus stared at Pappous, clearly untouched by her words.
After the payment was made, Pappous turned to them. “Titus, you are to be Elianna’s protector. Follow her wherever she goes, and take care that no harm comes to her.”
Suppose something happened to put Titus’s life in danger? A slave’s duty was to put his own life above his master’s. She would feel so guilty if harm ever came to him because of her. “What if he gets hurt?” Just as the words exited her mouth, she realized their folly.
Titus had no expression on his face, while Pappous laughed so loud it echoed off the surrounding docks, attracting the attention of onlookers. Pappous bent toward her. “Titus is the one who taught your abba how to fight.” He straightened, brows raised. “Taught him everything he knows.” He put his hand on Titus’s shoulder and sighed. “This man was like a father to your abba.” Pappous patted him on the arm. “That’s what he told me. More than once.” He gave Titus’s arm a significant squeeze. “Let’s be gone.” Pappous strolled down the street, clearly pleased with the situation.
Titus stood watching Pappous as he walked away.
Elianna’s gaze trailed from the top of his short, cropped hair, to the tips of his bare feet. He knew Abba, and Abba had loved him. Tentatively, she reached out and took his hand.
He looked down at her, and she smiled, a soft tremulous smile. Together, they walked behind Pappous.
Ω
Elianna carried a basket full of vegetables on her hip as she made her way through the crowd toward home. Titus wasn’t far behind, and she kept her distance. A whole week had passed since Pappous purchased Titus. After leaving Pappous at the jewelry shop where he worked, she and Titus had stopped at the market and now headed down the street for home.
Every day since they purchased Titus, he and Elianna followed the same route. Elianna didn’t dare wander too far from home anymore. Despite having Titus nearby, she didn’t feel safe. Instead, she felt like she walked under the shadow of a tree. She glanced over her shoulder at him, seeing his stern expression. He never smiled. She looked down at the ground, loneliness suffocating her. How she missed Mamma and Abba.
Though Titus never complained, she wondered if he despised having to be her escort everywhere she went. Wasn’t he bored staying with her all the time? She couldn’t imagine how it must be for him, having to constantly chaperone a little girl when he was such a brute.
They hadn’t run into Marcus yet, and she prayed they wouldn’t. She never wanted to see his nasty face again.
Speaking of … she spotted Marcus coming toward her with Brianus at his side, his strides sure and confident in his white tunic. Again, Tatius wasn’t with them. Elianna stopped and straightened to her full height, determined not to be afraid. After all, Titus was near. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, but he was gone. The crowd of shoppers were now far behind her, with only a few stragglers wandering in the opposite direction. Where was Titus? Why had she tried to avoid him? Especially now that she needed him so desperately?
Marcus grabbed Elianna by the collar, causing her to drop her basket. “It’s time we finished that kiss.” She nearly choked on his foul breath. “Brianus here never got his turn.”
“Let go of me!” Elianna grabbed Marcus’s fingers, trying to pry them off her.
He jerked her forward. She stumbled but righted herself.
“Do as she says.” Titus’s stern, crisp voice thundered over them, despite its quiet tenor. As quick as lightning, his blade was at Marcus’s throat. Brianus’s gaze drifted up Titus to the top of his head. He turned and ran.
Marcus slowly released Elianna, holding his palms toward Titus.
Elianna backed away from them.
“I wasn’t going to hurt her,” Marcus said, daring to explain himself, eyes wide and face pale, causing his freckles to stand out on his cheeks and forehead.
Titus lifted his chin, looking down his nose at the boy. “Touch her again and I’ll kill you.”
Elianna stepped back, shocked by the threat, but oh, how it brought back memories of when Alexander had said the same thing to Marcus, fury in his gaze. Was Titus furious too or just being her defender? Something crunched beneath her feet. She’d stepped on her basket. She quickly snatched it up before a straggler stole it.
Titus escorted Marcus away from them, sword at his throat the entire time. Marcus stumbled backward, his arms flailing. Screaming, he turned and raced after his friend down the street.
She almost laughed at his reaction to Titus, but instead, tears flooded Elianna’s eyes as she trembled uncontrollably, hugging the basket to her chest. “Why won’t he leave me alone?” She cried, wishing she had someone to hold her, comfort her.
Titus walked back to where she stood.
“All I did was beat him in a race a long time ago, and ever since then, he won’t stop!”
“What’d he say to you?” Titus asked, his voice calm with a reassuring tone that somehow comforted her.
Elianna wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. “He wants me to kiss him and Brianus,” she said, feeling foolish as the words spilled from her lips.
Titus quirked a grin.
She stomped her foot. “What?” Heat crept up her neck to her cheeks.
Titus shrugged. “Don’t blame the boy.” He sheathed his sword.
Elianna swallowed her tears and straightened. “How can you say that?” She pointed a trembling finger in Marcus’s direction. “He’s awful! Do you know how he tried to force himself on me? He’s the reason we had to purchase you.”
Titus scowled. “I only meant that you’re a pretty girl. The boy is smitten.”
Elianna blinked, taking in a shuddering breath. She studied Titus’s face. Was he joking?
“Some boys tease girls when they’re attracted to them.” Titus cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation. He started walking, his back to her, and Elianna followed, still hugging her basket for comfort.
She’d never thought of herself as pretty. She wanted to find a mirro
r so she could look. What did Marcus see? She certainly didn’t find him attractive in the least, and it wasn’t because of his looks, but his behavior. In every sense of the word, he was the ugliest boy she knew.
“Do you really think I’m pretty?” she asked.
Titus stopped and faced her. He half-grinned, a small lift of his lip that erased all her doubts, that said he adored her as the little girl she was and didn’t mind protecting her in the least. “Yes.”
Elianna looked at the ground, shocked to hear such a thing. She hoped and prayed Zander would find her attractive when she was grown up. Had he received her letter?
“What’s bothering David’s little Elianna? I thought being told she’s pretty would put a smile on her face.”
Elianna looked up at him. Those were the most words Titus had ever spoken to her, and she realized all over again, he would protect her with his life because she was Abba’s little girl. “I just wish … “ She shrugged, finding it surprisingly natural to hold such an intimate conversation with the foreboding Titus. “I just wish someone else thought I was pretty.” Really, she wished so much more. She wished Zander would come back and take her away from here to Germania, to Aunt Sarah.
Ω
While Pappous was at work, Elianna spent her days with Titus. She’d watched him do similar stretches and exercises her father always did, and she was thrilled to discover he was the one who taught Abba how to juggle. She gladly showed Titus all Abba had taught her, and to her delight, Titus actually smiled—something she discovered was a rarity with her new protector.
Today they sat in the cove next to the Tiber, where she used to come with Mamma and Abba. It was the first time she’d come to this spot and didn’t feel overwhelmed with grief. She juggled, practicing the new tricks Titus had taught her, while Titus whittled away at some wood.
Curious, she stashed Abba’s juggling balls in the net bag tied around her waist and sat next to him, watching him carve the wood with care.
“What are you making?” she asked, scooting in closer.
“Fortuna.” He cast her a side glance. “I need all the luck I can get.”
People usually purchased their gods in shops where they were carved either into wood or stone, but she’d never witnessed anyone carve one for himself.
“Why do you need luck?”
He continued whittling. For the past few weeks she’d sensed again his reservations about Pappous. She didn’t understand it, and it bothered her that Titus didn’t put his trust in Elohim.
“I wish to pray to her.”
Elianna pinched her lips together and shook her head. “She’s not going to be very helpful.”
He stopped whittling and looked at her.
Elianna motioned to the piece of wood. “You could toss her in the fire, and she’d burn right up. Besides, she’s so small you can hold her in your hand.”
“That’s the point.” He cut a small piece, allowing the shaving to fall over his dark fingers. “I’ll have her with me wherever I go.”
Elianna cocked her head. “Well, my God holds me in His hands, so I don’t have to carry Him around in my pocket.” She straightened. “He carries me around.”
Titus stopped whittling, holding the small knife away from the wood.
“You should change gods.” She nodded up at him, pursing her lips together. “My God is mighty and can do amazing things. He parted the Red Sea once. Did you know that?”
Titus shook his head.
Elianna motioned to the Tiber River. “It’d be like Him parting this river so we could cross it!” She marveled at the thought, imagining herself crossing the Tiber between high walls of water. “He also created everything you see.” She pointed at the nearby bushes and trees. “He’s everywhere and in everything. And you don’t need to keep Him in your pocket. He promises to stay with you always. You just need to obey Him. But a lot of people don’t want to do that. He’ll hear your prayers no matter where you are. A long time ago a man named Jonah—he was disobeying God—was swallowed by a big fish. He was way down in the sea, inside this great big fish, and when he prayed, Elohim heard him.”
Titus stared out over the Tiber, his jaw ticking.
Elianna stopped talking, fearing she’d said too much.
Titus sighed and lifted his chin. “I know about your God. I once read your father’s scrolls that told about this God of yours. But why should I worship a God who allows good people to die?” He looked at her pointedly, and she knew he was referring to her parents.
Elianna’s throat clogged and she couldn’t speak. She swallowed past the knot as tears trailed down her cheeks. “Why do you say that?” Her voice broke.
He continued gazing across the river, not looking at her. “Is it not true? If your God is so powerful, why didn’t He save your parents?”
“He did save them,” she said, clenching her fists. Titus shook his head, and before he could voice the words and remind her that they were dead, she blurted out, “There’s more to this life than what you can see! They’re with Yahshua now.” She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head on them, sniffing. “Besides, God came to this earth and died for us, so why shouldn’t we be willing to do the same for Him?”
Titus leaned back on his elbows, stretching his long legs in front of him.
Elianna, cheek still resting on her knees, studied his thoughtful expression. “Someday,” she whispered, “I’m going to see them again. All of us will be together with Yahshua.” Determined for those to be her last words, she looked out over the Tiber, watching the rapid currents flow downstream toward Tiber Island. Until that day, she’d bide her time.
David stood over his latest victim as blood dripped off his sword. After two long years of fighting, he’d just killed his twenty-eighth gladiator. He was still in Rome, and he hadn’t seen Galen in over a year. David had refused his visits because it was too painful facing the man after all the blood he had shed. As long as Elianna was safe, that was all that mattered. Perhaps Alexander was already in Rome taking care of his little girl. David arranged for Galen to send Alexander word of their situation not long after he was commissioned to fight in the arena. Galen was still ordered not to tell Elianna about her betrothal, holding to Alethea’s wishes.
Alethea. How he longed to hear her voice, to feel her touch. Her voice would chase away his demons. Her song would touch him like the caress of a kiss, healing his wounds. He didn’t hear her screams anymore. As Elohim taught him, he would take his thoughts captive and force his mind to remember the times they had at the villa when they stole between the trees and whispered their secrets to each other. It was during those moments he would hear her singing, hear her laughter, and even breathe in her jasmine scent.
He lifted his face to the roaring crowds, soaking in the glory, the praise. He was no fool. He knew it meant nothing and that his soul was doomed. But why not enjoy what little pleasure was afforded to him while the opportunity presented itself?
Pleasure. David laughed out loud at the thought. There was no pleasure in this bloodbath. Sure, some men signed up for this kind of life, desiring to reign in the arena as glorified slaves. As for David, fury ate away at his soul. He despised his very existence. What did he have to show for all those years of obedience to his Lord? Nothing. So many wasted years of faithfulness. He was empty, and he hated everything and everyone who came in his path. With every strike, every slash of his opponent’s blade in every fight, every battle, David’s rage mounted.
Where was Elohim? Why didn’t He let David die? Was His plan to set David free after another year? Successful gladiators were usually freed after serving three years. His trophy: a wooden sword. To David, that would only symbolize the kills, the blood, the agony. Why would Elianna have him after that? Surely, the church would avoid him because of his sin. David was an empty, hollow man.
David raised his fist to the sky and shook it at Elohim. “Why have You left me? Why don’t You hear my prayers?” he shouted, but he knew Elohi
m no longer listened because of his sin. Desperate, David had reached for His forgiveness, for His grace, only to watch it elude him and slip out of his grasp. He now knew he could never win, and he could no longer hide his sin, a sin that was exposed to all in this arena and to his brothers and sisters in Christ. How could he ask for forgiveness when he knew the very next day he would be out here committing the same crimes against his Master and Lord? Rage pounded against his temples, and the crowd chanted David’s name.
“Simianus! Simianus! Simianus!”
David lifted his hands to the crowd, shaking his fists in the air to the rhythm of their shouts. While David hated the name, it served him right. Really, to be called monkey suited his fighting style. He never wore armor, other than carrying a small shield, and his moves were quick and spry, just like an ape. So, while their voices were meant to cheer him on, encourage him, David heard their voices for what they really were, as taunts for what he had become. He was no longer a servant of Elohim. He’d lost that honor long ago, from the moment he realized he couldn’t die. It didn’t matter how skilled or unskilled the fighter, David simply could not bring himself to die, and it galled him. How long would he have to live this bloody existence?
Funny. He’d been ashamed of Manius for reviling the name of the Lord, but didn’t David do the same, if not in word, in deed? He laughed out loud again, a laugh of insanity. Some people called him that at times. While the name Monkey stuck, sometimes insane was thrown into the mix. He’d often hear the cry, Inasnum Simianus.
And he was sure his shouts at Elohim would inspire that title again.
“Inasnum Simianus! Inasnum Simianus! Inasnum Simianus!”
They never disappointed him.
Something wet and warm sprinkled over David’s shoulders. He knew exactly what and who it was. The regular spectator, dedicated to urinating on the gladiators below. David gritted his teeth. Since no one else stopped the swine, he would. He marched away from the wall, feeling the urine run down his back and over his arms. It wasn’t the first time the idiot did this to him, but it would be the last. He neared two other gladiators. One man lay dead in the sand, his chest cut open and bleeding. While the victor raised his hands to the crowd, David dipped his sandals in the dead man’s blood.