“I still don’t understand.” She looked back at Anticus, her brows drawing down into a frown. “Why can’t you tell him yourself?”
He got up quickly and came to her. “Oh, I can, and I will.” Sadly, he lifted his hand and allowed the flowing water to tumble over his outstretched fingers. “But there may not be time.”
He stroked his wet fingers down her cheek. “That’s where you come in, my dear. Surely God sent you just for that purpose. Why else would Sentinel be so drawn to you if not by the will of God?”
Suddenly frightened, Samah returned to the bench. Was it possible that Jehovah would use a common dog to do His will? She had wondered such before, but to hear Anticus say so clearly what she had suspected herself was like having her thoughts made solid. She leaned her crutch against the fountain next to her and turned to Anticus.
“Surely he will listen to his father. I have seen the love between you,” she told him seriously.
Anticus joined her. “Sometimes, love is not enough.”
Their conversation ceased as Cassius returned to the garden, followed closely by Hector.
“You wished my presence, my lord?”
“Yes, Hector. I need some gall to mix with my wine.”
Cassius’s head snapped around. “You are in pain?”
Taking a deep breath, Anticus smiled reassuringly. “It comes, and it goes.” He looked at Hector. “You know where it is, Hector.”
“Yes, my lord.”
After he hurried from the garden, an oppressive silence hung in the air. Anticus turned to his son. “Now don’t look at me like that. I know what you’re going to say, and you might as well forget it.”
Cassius’s dark look warned of a brewing temper. “Did anyone ever tell you that you are a very stubborn man?”
Anticus waved his hand airily. “Many times,” he agreed complacently. “Now let’s go inside and have a seat. I have something very important to tell you.”
“Father,” Cassius complained irritably. “Just tell me.”
Cassius saw his father’s one eyebrow lift slightly, and he sighed. He knew that look. His father was determined to have his way. Well, let him, as long as Cassius could get to the bottom of this situation.
Sentinel’s ears lifted when Anticus reached to help Samah stand, but he remained quietly by Cassius’s side. Even though Cassius had had Sentinel for some years, the dog refused to give his trust to Anticus. It could be said that he just tolerated the older man.
Cassius followed his father, who allowed Samah to precede him. He was burning with curiosity over what his parent had had to say to his slave.
They seated themselves in the triclinium, where the servants were busily laying out the evening meal. Anticus motioned for Samah to take a seat, and then he sat beside her on the same couch. It was normal to eat reclining on the couches instead of sitting, but then, Cassius realized, his father had never been a very normal person.
The other servants noticed Samah’s slave bracelet and flashed a look at Anticus. He shook his head slightly, frowning at them. Cassius’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Whatever was going on here now? Something had changed about his father in the last three years since he had been away. There was an unusual bond between his father and the servants.
It was clear that Anticus had no intention of discussing anything until after the meal. He had always been that way, believing that sour conversation would cause a sour stomach. Cassius resigned himself to a longer wait. He watched in silence as his father drank the brew of bitter gall and wine to help dull his pain.
Anticus addressed himself to Samah.
“Tell me about yourself, my dear. You are Samaritan, Cassius tells me.”
Samah’s troubled look fixed on Cassius. She was uncertain just how much he would want her to divulge. “I am from Samaria. In actuality, Samaritanism is a religion much like Judaism. There are some minor differences of philosophy, but they still believe in the one Jehovah.”
“And has Christianity reached into Samaria?”
Cassius leaned back against his couch, his narrow-eyed gaze fixed steadily on his father’s face. “You have a surprising interest in Christianity.”
Anticus seemed to steel himself before turning to his son. “That’s because I am one.”
The quiet words brought Cassius up off the couch, his body tense, his eyes flashing fire. “By the gods! You’ve got to be out of your mind! I knew there was something odd going on here! Do you know what you’re saying?”
“Sit down, Cassius.” The command in Anticus’s voice brooked no denial.
Samah watched father and son glare at each other, both pairs of shoulders set uncompromisingly. She swallowed hard, offering a prayer for guidance on Anticus’s part.
Cassius was the first to relent. Slowly, he seated himself on the couch, his food now forgotten. He glared at Samah as though it were all her fault. She said nothing, but Anticus didn’t miss the look. He laughed.
“You needn’t glare at Samah like that. She had nothing to do with it. If you want to blame anyone, blame Trajan.”
Shocked, Cassius looked at his father. “Uncle Trajan? What has he to do with this?”
Anticus sighed. “ I had hoped to wait until Trajan was here to speak for himself, but I can see that you won’t wait.”
“You can say that again!” Cassius lifted a peach from the platter and then threw it back again. He glared at his father. “I can’t believe this!”
“And you needn’t look at me as though I had suddenly become demented,” Anticus ground out.
Cassius flushed. That had been his exact thoughts.
Anticus’s voice softened. “Cassius, there are things that I need to say before. . .before it’s too late.”
Cassius felt the anger drain from him. This man was his father and the only person he had ever loved with unconditional devotion. Nothing could change that now. There was something on his father’s mind that he wanted to disclose before he died, and Cassius would just have to bear with it. A tight band seemed to close around his heart.
“Go ahead,” he told his father. “I’ll say nothing until you are finished.”
Nodding his head, Anticus glanced once at Samah and then started to speak.
“I need to start at the beginning. When you were born.”
Seeing the brief spasm of pain that flashed across his son’s face, Anticus hesitated. Gathering his courage, he finally continued.
“Your mother didn’t leave you on the rocks to die.”
Cassius’s eyes widened, his face going suddenly pale. Forgetting his earlier promise, he interrupted. “What are you saying?” he croaked hoarsely.
“It was not your mother who left you on the rocks to die, Cassius. It was her husband.”
Cassius could hardly breathe. “My father? How long have you known this?”
Though his voice was steady, the reluctance in Anticus’s voice couldn’t be missed. “I’ve always known.”
A sudden surge of billowing dark anger boiled up in Cassius. His body began to shake with barely controlled fury. “Go on, don’t stop now,” he commanded snidely. “So my father was the one to disown me.”
Sighing, Anticus continued. “Your father was not your mother’s husband.”
The silence in the room was almost deafening. Anticus’s voice seemed unusually loud when he continued. “Your mother was in love with a young legionnaire. She and her husband had an arranged marriage, and her husband was very brutal to her. Needless to say, she found solace and comfort in the arms of a soldier in Florian’s regiment.”
“Her husband is a soldier?” Cassius interrupted again.
The look Anticus gave Cassius was hard to interpret. “He was. He died some years ago.”
“And my mother?”
“Your mother was the friend of my sister. I grew to love her as much as I loved your Aunt Penelope, so when she needed help, I was there for her.” Anticus took a knife from the tray and began to pull the skin from a peach, not so
much to satisfy his hunger as for something to do. “She became pregnant while her husband was away on a campaign. She was frightened of the consequences if he should find out it was another man’s child, as well she should have been. He eventually did find out, and he almost killed her. After you were born, he snuck you away one night and left you outside the city to die. The rest you know.”
Samah could see Cassius struggling to understand everything Anticus had just told him. She wanted to reach out to him. Comfort him. She wanted to give him the kind of love he had never known from any woman. Realizing her thoughts, her own mind was thrown into sudden confusion.
Somewhere along the way over the past several weeks, she had begun to care about the Tribune Cassius. Frightened, she turned away lest he could see her feelings registered in her eyes.
“Where is my mother now?” Cassius rasped.
“I don’t know,” Anticus answered heavily. “I kept track of her until just before you left for Palestine, then suddenly she disappeared. I have had men searching for her for some time.”
“Did she know about me?” The pain in Cassius’s voice brought tears to his father’s eyes.
“Yes. She expected Florian to do something, so she had a servant always watching him. He followed Florian outside the city gates and then brought you to me. She asked me to take you in as my own, and I was more than happy to do so.”
“Why did she never come to see me?”
Anticus sighed. “Florian would have killed you. She loved you enough to make that sacrifice. Then by the time Florian had died, you were already my son. She didn’t want to change that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Cassius couldn’t bring himself to look into his father’s face.
“I promised that I wouldn’t,” Anticus told him regretfully.
“Then why now?”
Anticus scooted forward on his seat until he was close enough to touch Cassius. He laid his hand gently against Cassius’s rough one.
“Cassius,” be began quietly. “I am a Christian. I knew that when you returned to Rome I would have to tell you the truth. I cannot go to my grave with a lie in my heart. To God, lying is an abomination.”
“God,” Cassius spat. “That’s something I will have to take up with Uncle Trajan.”
After that one declaration, silence permeated the room for some time. Finally, Cassius turned to his father. “I need some air.”
“Cassius. . .”
“Please!” Cassius grated. “I need time to think.”
Anticus regarded him steadily. “As you wish. But you will come back, won’t you? Trajan will be here soon.”
Cassius snorted. “Something else I need to think about.”
“My son. . .”
“Father, I love you. Let’s say no more right now.”
Cassius turned to Samah, his look inscrutable. “Stay here. I’m sure you and my father have much to talk about.”
Flinching at the caustic tone of voice, Samah lowered her head in obeisance.
Snapping his fingers, Cassius called to Sentinel. “Come on, my friend. I feel like having your company.”
Feeling snubbed, Samah watched them leave the room.
“He’ll be all right,” Anticus soothed. “I’m certain of that now.”
“Now?” Samah questioned, her brow knitting in confusion.
Anticus smiled. “Why, now that you are here, of course.”
“My lord,” Samah said disbelievingly, “I think you credit me with too much.”
Handing her a section of grapes, Anticus told her, “Have faith in God, Samah. I do.”
Humbled, Samah took the grapes, trying to enthuse herself with a desire to eat. It was useless. Before long, even Anticus gave up the pretense, and he had the servants clear the table.
Hector came to the door. “General Trajan is here, my lord.”
Anticus smiled. “Send him in! Send him in!”
The man who entered the room came as a surprise to Samah. Although he had to be close to fifty years of age, his physique was lean and hard, his hair lightly speckled with gray. His vivid blue eyes were clearly visible across the distance of the room
Anticus rose to his feet, shifting his toga as he did so. “Trajan. It’s good of you to come.”
“You sent for me, my friend,” the other man laughingly reminded, taking Anticus by the forearm.
Anticus returned his laugh. “True, but it was good of you to come when I know you are so busy.”
“Never too busy for a friend.”
“Cassius is home.” The words hung like a threat in the air.
“Ah,” Trajan breathed. “I didn’t know.”
“He came unexpectedly. Titus allowed him to return from Palestine when he heard that I was ill.”
“I see.” He turned the full force of his blue eyes on Samah. “And who might this be?”
Anticus’s look was inscrutable. “She is Cassius’s slave, Samah. A Samaritan of the Christian faith who was caught inside Titus’s siege wall.”
Trajan smiled at Samah, reaching out a hand to her. She took it, and he squeezed it briefly. “A sister in the Lord, then. How wonderful that you escaped Jerusalem.”
When he looked into Samah’s eyes, his own eyes widened, and the color drained from his face. He stood looking at her for so long that Samah grew uncomfortable under his continued regard.
“From Samaria, you say?” he asked absently.
“Yes,” Samah agreed, curious at the man’s sudden stillness. “My parents live there.”
“Have you an aunt?”
Surprised at the question, Samah nodded slowly. “Yes. Her name is Mara. She’s married to my Uncle Adonijah.”
Trajan’s face paled even further. Growing concerned, Anticus stepped forward.
“Are you all right, Trajan?”
The words seemed to snap Trajan out of the trance-like state he had fallen into.
“Yes.” He glanced at Anticus. “Yes, I’m fine.”
Anticus motioned to the couch, watching his friend closely. “Have a seat. You don’t look well.”
Though Trajan was still staring at Samah, he quickly turned to his friend and smiled. “I’m fine, I tell you. It’s just the heat.”
Lifting one brow dubiously, Anticus seated himself opposite his friend. The fall temperatures had dropped considerably the last several days, causing him to question the statement, but he said nothing. He rang the bell beside him, watching Trajan’s still pale face. When Hector arrived, Anticus told him, “Bring some wine, Hector.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Trajan followed his progress as he left and then turned to Anticus.
“Did you say Cassius’s slave?”
When Hector returned with a tray, Anticus took a goblet, motioning for Trajan to take one for himself. Both men relaxed back against the cushions.
“I haven’t talked to Cassius about the slave issue yet,” Anticus told Trajan. “I’m afraid I need to let him adjust to the fact that I’m a Christian first.”
Trajan chuckled lightly. “I assume he didn’t take it too well.”
Anticus smiled wryly. “Better than I hoped.”
Samah watched the two men, so different yet so alike. From time to time, Trajan’s eyes would stray to her, and she squirmed under his look, not certain what to make of his continued perusal.
She let her mind wander to thoughts of Cassius, and wondered where he was and what he was doing. She prayed for his safety and his acceptance of his father’s faith. She only hoped that Anticus’s faith in her was as justified. Frankly, she doubted her ability to reach Cassius if his own father could not.
“Where is Cassius now?” Trajan inquired, setting his goblet back on the table.
“Right here.”
The cold, clipped voice caused the smile to falter and then die on Trajan’s face. He rose to his feet, studying Cassius warily.
“Welcome home, Cassius.”
“Thank you.”
Anti
cus noticed Cassius’s bristling demeanor. “Dear, dear,” he stated wearily. “This is not exactly as I hoped it would be when I got you two together.” At both men’s questioning looks, Anticus pursed his lips, shrugging. “I have something I need to say to the both of you.”
Samah saw Cassius’s eyes darken to ebony, and she felt her own stomach drop in expectation of what was to come.
“More bombshells, Father.”
Looking uncomfortable, Trajan glanced from one to the other. “Really, Anticus, whatever you have to say should best be said between the two of you.”
Anticus shook his head. “No, this involves you, too, my friend.”
Trajan sank to the couch behind him.
“Come, Cassius. Have a seat,” Anticus demanded.
“I think I would rather stand.”
Anticus steadily regarded his son until Cassius finally yielded. “Have it your way then. Let’s get this over with. I suppose it has to do with this confounded religion you’ve all embraced,” he snarled, glaring at Trajan.
He seated himself beside Samah, giving her a brief look. Turning back to his father, he impatiently prompted, “Well?”
Without preamble, Anticus told them, “Cassius, Trajan is your true father.”
SEVEN
For several long moments both men stared at Anticus, doubting his sanity. The lasting silence in the room became almost oppressive, an eerie tension hanging in the air.
Cassius was the first to break it.
“What are you saying?” he choked out.
Anticus took a deep breath, glancing guardedly from one to the other. He began to nervously twist the purple fringe on the edge of his toga. “It’s a long story,” he finally told them.
“I have time.”
Samah looked quickly at Trajan’s set white face. His features seemed carved in lines of marble, his jaw clenched firmly. Though his voice had been quiet, it was menacing nonetheless.
“As do I,” Cassius agreed.
For the first time since Anticus had made his declaration, both Cassius and Trajan looked at one another. Both men seemed to be searching for something in the other that would give truth to Anticus’s statement.
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