by Sandi Rog
Elianna, still catching her breath, shook her head. “He didn’t catch me.”
Pappous poked his head out of the room. “Who?”
“I don’t know. A man chased me. A Bedouin.”
“Don’t ever leave without me again,” Titus said, his voice raised. He’d never spoken to her in such a commanding tone, but she didn’t mind it, because he was right. She never should have left the house without him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, breathless. “It won’t happen again.”
“Paulus.” Pappous said the name as he gazed intently out the window. “It must be him.”
“It wasn’t him. He didn’t look anything like him.”
“Don’t you remember how he tried to fool you before? Perhaps he’s found another pawn?”
“But why would it be Uncle Paulus? He’s not even here.”
Pappous coughed, shaking his head. “I saw him in Alexandria and before that in Corinth. He’s been following us for about two years.”
“What?” Elianna stepped back. “How did he find us?”
“We ran into each other in Corinth.” Pappous shook his head, regret in his eyes. “I gave him money, hoping he would come back.” He shrugged in defeat. “Turn his life around.” Scrubbing his hand over his face, he moaned. “I never should have. He hasn’t stopped following us since. All because I kept helping him.” He lifted his hands. “I couldn’t stop myself. He’s my son. He told me he was so desperate for money, he thought the Roman authorities would pay him to report the church, but they never paid him a cent. He said he never expected your parents to be executed. Now I wonder how much of that was true.” Gaze filled with sorrow, he turned to continue packing. “All the more reason to get out of here.”
Ω
That same day, Alexander lifted the amethyst stone from around his neck, slipping the leather cord over his head. He felt like he was cutting off a limb, but it was the only way for Deliylah to remove the strands of hair.
“I want to keep the lock,” he said, his voice shaking.
Deliylah lifted her gaze, sending him a sly smile. The woman was old enough to be Alexander’s mother, or grandmother perhaps, but he still feared she wouldn’t understand its significance.
“I can braid it for you, if you’d like.” She sat in a chair by the window. “That way you can wear it.”
Alexander’s chest leaped to his throat. What a grand idea.
Deliylah lifted the strand in front of her, studying it. “It won’t be long enough for a necklace, but I can make a bracelet out of it. And then maybe a ring.”
Not trusting his voice, he nodded, trembling all over. To have a part of Elianna so close would be surreal, like a dream. To think, he’d had Elianna in his arms, his very arms! And she was beautiful. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Her face was so perfect, her hair darker than he remembered, and her form … well, she was nice and soft. If he meditated on it, dwelled on it, he could still feel her there against him.
When she outran him, and after searching all over town for her without success, he finally returned to the pier. He’d organized his men, got permission to stable the horses and set up his tents outside the city, and by then it was already getting late in the morning. After he retraced his steps, he found a fish carved into a stone tile along the walkway just before entering the city. Its mouth pointed in the direction he’d need to go to find the church.
When he arrived and showed them the letter he received from the brethren in Alexandria, a letter confirming he was their brother in Christ, they told him they knew Elianna and Galen and that they were both there in Tarsus. He announced that he was her betrothed and had been searching for her for four years. Thank Elohim, he’d finally found her. God brought her to him. Amazing how He answered that prayer. He actually brought her to him. If only he’d realized it before it was too late.
The church didn’t know why Galen had come to the city, having never heard of David or his being a local gladiator.
“I’d like someone to take me to her.”
“Of course,” Deliylah said. “Benjamin, please take Lord Alexander to Elianna’s home. Show him where she lives.”
A small boy who sat in the corner staring at Alexander in wide-eyed fascination leapt to his feet, clearly eager to spend some time with him.
“When he finds her home, I want you to return,” Deliylah said to the boy.
“But—”
“Come straight home,” she said, her voice firm.
“Yes, Grandmother.”
As Benjamin led Alexander through the city, Haru and Mohar came along as usual, walking behind him. It almost seemed too easy, too good to be true. Would he actually be led right to his Elianna, after all these years of searching, wondering, worrying? The boy led him through familiar territory, the same path Elianna had taken earlier, only he’d lost her in the crowd when they’d reached the wooden amphitheater. As they made their way through side streets and an alley, they finally came to a row of doors lining the street.
Benjamin pointed to one door in particular. “This is where she lives,” he said.
“Thank you.” Alexander nodded to the boy then stared at the door, his heart hammering in his ears.
With a trembling fist, Alexander knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again.
Still, no answer.
He looked down the street, and then at his men. Clearly, she wasn’t home. Should he wait? As far and long as he’d traveled, that was exactly what he’d do.
Nearly three hours passed, and Mohar sat slumped beneath the window like a beggar, while Alexander leaned against the wall, scanning the narrow, empty street, not about to leave until he beheld his Elianna. Eyes wary, Haru paced back and forth, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Why don’t we just come back tomorrow?” Mohar rubbed his hand down his face. “Or wait until the first day of the week when the church comes together? Surely, we’ll find her then.”
“For the hundredth time, we’re not leaving,” Alexander said, standing over him.
Whistling carried from up the street, and a young slave came around the corner. Alexander straightened, pushing away from the wall, watching the young man as he neared. Mohar, almost groggy, stood as the slave reached to knock on Elianna’s door.
“Who are you?” Alexander asked.
The slave looked up at him with wide eyes and stepped back. “I’m Master Simon’s eunuch.”
“Who is that?” Alexander’s voice came out sharper than he intended, but he was out of patience.
“A local scribe.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Delivering a verbal message from my master.” The slave looked around them. “She’s not at home?”
Alexander crossed his arms. “No.”
He looked down at the ground. “Oh, I’m too late.”
Alexander lifted his chin. “Too late for what?”
“To say goodbye.”
“What?” Alexander stepped toward him.
The boy stepped back, looking from Mohar who also stood over him, and then to Haru who kept his gaze on the street.
Alexander tried the door, and it slowly opened, squeaking on its hinges and making him shudder.
Mouth ajar, Mohar motioned his hands dramatically toward the house and then toward Alexander. “I told you we should try the door. All this time! We could have gone in!”
“Don’t,” Alexander said between clenched teeth as he eyed Mohar. They’d already argued about it, but Alexander couldn’t bring himself to invade their privacy. Now he wanted to kick himself, as he was sure Mohar would like to do. Sighing, he turned to the slave. “Do they always keep their door unlocked?”
“No,” the eunuch said, surprise showing on his face. “Mistress Elianna’s usually very careful about that, said her father taught her the importance of doing so.”
Alexander looked around, seeing cupboards left open and other items strewn on the floor. Odd.
Were they this messy, or was this what he feared? Like someone who left in a hurry? In a big hurry to escape something, or someone. His jaw clenched. She had left again. Alexander growled. Where would she have gone this time?
“When did they leave?” Alexander snapped at the boy. “Where are they?”
The eunuch stepped back, eyes wide and palms up. “I have to go!”
He ducked under Mohar’s arm and ran from the house, the door banging open against the wall.
Taking a deep breath and trying to calm his rage and agony, Alexander clenched his fists. “She couldn’t have gotten far,” he finally said, his voice a forced calm. He stomped back toward Deliylah’s home, urgency in his gait. He had to find Elianna before she got too far. Surely Deliylah would have some clue as to where they would have gone. Haru and Mohar followed, wise enough not to say a word as Alexander thundered back to Deliylah’s house.
As he neared the old woman’s home, Alexander stopped when he caught the glimmer of the amethyst stone in Benjamin’s hands. He held it up, admiring it. Tamping down his fear, Alexander headed for the boy to get his jewel, but two men, drunk and carrying amphora vessels, walked toward Benjamin. One of them snatched it from the boy’s hands as he went by. Benjamin cried out, reaching for it. The man laughed, teasing the boy with it. “I think I need this more than you do, son.” He laughed again, holding it high out of the boy’s grasp.
Alexander lunged at the man, snatching the stone from him. Locking the jewel in his fist, he socked the man in the face. His friend came after Alexander, but Haru took him down. Seeing that the men were taken care of, Alexander nodded to Benjamin, not daring to speak for fear several of Mohar’s choice expletives might explode from his mouth. Trying to calm his rage, Alexander stormed off, leaving the men lying on the ground and Benjamin staring after him.
Before reaching the house, sharp pains in his hand called his attention. Finally, he stopped, again taking a deep breath to calm himself. Facing his two friends, he slowly opened his fist, revealing the stone’s crystal tips embedded in his palm. Swallowing, Alexander slowly pulled them out of his flesh. He stood there, gritting his teeth. All that time waiting for Elianna to return, he could have been following her, making sure she didn’t get too far. How could he have been so foolish, standing outside her door for so long? Surely, he should have sensed she wouldn’t come back. He blew out a breath of air … through his teeth.
Haru blinked at the puncture wounds in Alexander’s hand. “Kind of symbolizes this journey.” He nodded as if convinced of his own words. “She’s a beautiful jewel, but painful to hold on to.”
Cappadocia. That’s where they’d gone. Alexander had waited until the first day of the week to meet with the brethren. Surely one of them knew where Galen and Elianna had gone. And behold, someone did. The boy who had come to the door that fateful day served a scribe who was also a brother in Christ. The man named Simon had written a letter of reference for Galen and Elianna to the church in Cappadocia, stating that they were Christians and could be trusted.
Alexander had obtained his own letter of reference from the same man, and now he made his way north to this mysterious city. They said it was an invisible city that disappeared by day but lit up at night with lights.
It amazed him that the whispers and mysterious stories were true. He found a place for his tents outside a small town not too far from the strange mountains, but now Alexander, Haru and Mohar made their way through this magnificent city of lights. Cone-shaped mountains sprang up on every side, like upside-down icicles or giant amphora vessels. The small windows and doors along the sides of the steep cliffs lit up with lamps. It was as if he were cast under a spell, mesmerized by the quiet sounds and voices carrying from inside each home or building. However, none of these homes or buildings were like anything he’d ever seen before, other than in the desert. But in the desert, the caves were just that, caves, with dirt, dust and moss growing inside. These caves were different because they had life in them, and not darkness, but light.
Mohar and Haru must have been struck silent by the beauty because they rode without a word by Alexander’s side, also admiring the wonder surrounding them. The only sounds were the crunching of dirt and rocks beneath the horses’ hooves.
The following day, after worshipping the Lord with his Egyptian brothers, Alexander returned, riding between the white, cone-shaped mountains. He couldn’t sleep that night with the excitement of being so near to capturing his bride. With the sunlight, he could now see how the windows and doors were like pigeon holes along the side of the high cliffs. Elianna was here somewhere. Perhaps she walked up and down some of these stairs. Where was she now? Which door should he enter? It was the first day of the week, so likely the Christians were together for worship if they hadn’t come together earlier, but how could he find them? He had yet to find the sign of a fish.
The wind blew between the peaks, whipping over him and his two friends. He lifted his chin, and that’s when he saw her. Like a glorious bird standing on one of the cliffs, her stola flapped in the wind, revealing her shapely figure pressed against the delicate folds of material. Stunned, he froze as he watched the beauty before him, so fitting among the natural wonder surrounding her.
Ω
Elianna stood on the balcony, which in reality was the edge of a cliff. In the short time she’d been there, Cappadocia had enchanted her with its rugged beauty. The surrounding mountains were like companions, which hid friends and brethren, tucking them securely in their caverns. But now she needed to be alone. It had been a week since she lost Pappous, and singing with the church brought her little comfort. All she could think of was that he was no longer here, no longer sitting by her side, singing songs of praises to their Father in heaven. She knew he was in a better place, but oh, how she missed him.
Brethren had found Pappous collapsed outside the wooden amphitheater in the small town just outside the mountains of Cappadocia. What had he been doing there? She’d watched Pappous grow weaker with every step, every mile they drew closer to this strange place. And now … he was gone.
The hot breeze lifted Elianna’s mantle and skirt, tugging on her loose curls. The wind was unpredictable today. One minute it felt like she was in the center of a storm, and the next it was calm and sunny. She lifted her hand to hold her mantle, feeling like she was on top of the world. She’d never been so high up before. What a glorious sight, looking down on the other homes carved into the mountains and the distant town. It brought to mind the song she and her mother used to sing. If only she were a bird. She could soar high above all the peaks surrounding her, gliding on the wind. No one was looking, so she lifted her hands to pretend she was flying, soaring in the heavens and over the white, fluffy clouds. Soaring away from this place and into the arms of her heavenly Father.
As if it had hands, the wind ripped Elianna’s mantle from her head. Her mother’s mantle! She reached for it. But the wind snatched it away and the cloth sailed across the sky and swirled down the side of the cliff… toward three men on horseback below. Bedouin. One of them resembled the man from the pier in Tarsus, the man who had chased her. The man who likely was sent by Paulus. He steered his stallion toward the silk cloth as it fluttered down, and he caught it in his fist. His black robes emphasized his broad shoulders and their strength as if proclaiming the fact that he had no business holding such a delicate piece of material in his harsh hands. With her mother’s precious mantle now between his wretched fingers, he lifted the material to his face, clearly taking in the scent as his fierce gaze locked with hers.
Frozen in fear, Elianna could scarcely take a breath. How did he find her?
The man urged his stallion forward, reining in at the edge of the cliff. In one fluid motion, he dismounted and climbed up the side of the wall. Surely, he wouldn’t make it all the way to the top. Surely, he would fall before he reached her. Surely, he wasn’t coming after her, but wanted someone else. As his hands reached over the edge, not far from where she stood,
she screamed and ran inside, shouting at the top of her lungs, “Titus! Help me!” Her voice echoed through the caverns, carrying through each tunnel, until she felt certain Titus had heard her cry.
She sensed the man behind her, and her back prickled with terror as she raced down one of the narrow passageways where torches lit the dark cavern walls. She glanced over her shoulder. The man was close behind. Again, she screamed, scurrying into another chamber, turning down tunnels and through other passages. She ducked into a smaller cavernous tunnel and ran. The man behind her grunted, likely banged his head on the low ceiling. But the sound was too close. Something caught her stola, slowing her down, and then an arm reached around her waist. She tried to scream, but the man’s hand covered her mouth, and he lifted her off the ground, carrying her toward the sunlight coming from one of the chambers ahead. He brought her into the room and set her back on her feet near the window, pinning her against the wall, his hand still over her mouth.
“I mean you no harm,” the man said, out of breath. Her mother’s mantle protruded from the belt around his waist. “Don’t be afraid.” His voice was calm, but far from reassuring, more like silk with a poisonous edge, like a snake ready to strike, and she was the mouse. “Please, don’t scream. I won’t hurt you.” Slowly, he removed his hand from her lips. “Elianna?” he whispered, his blue-green eyes lighting his dark, bearded face. “That is your name, is it not?”
She simply looked at him, offering no answer other than the fearsome beating of her heart.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He swallowed visibly. “Is your name Elianna?”
Silence. She couldn’t bring herself to speak to this stranger who had her in his clutches. She was so paralyzed, she couldn’t even scream if she tried, her throat was completely closed, barely open for air.
“There’s only one way to be sure it’s you. The birthmark. I’m just going to have a look.” He lifted the hair off her left shoulder, holding it away from her ear. What birthmark? She didn’t have a birthmark. She tensed beneath his hold as his breath brushed against her cheek. She should scream, but her throat wouldn’t open. He leaned in close, sliding his fingers up her neck, sending tingles of pleasure down her shoulder and arm. How could she feel any pleasure from this intruder, this monster, this barbarian? He chuckled, low and soft in her ear. “It’s you. It’s really you.”