Faithful

by Carol Ashby

  As Tiberius handed each scroll to Galen to roll tightly and pack, Galen avoided looking at his face. Tiberius might read the pity written on his own.

  Decimus’s father had so much to give by the world’s standards, yet he lacked the one thing most worth giving. Galen’s own father had given up what Tiberius treasured to gain what Tiberius thought worthless. But of the two, his father was the only rich man.

  Chapter 40: Three Germans and a Roman

  Tiberius’s villa outside Roma, Day 37

  Tiberius leaned against the portico column, watching the tents and cots being strapped to the last of three pack mules. When Graecus stepped through the doorway, he waved him over.

  “It’s been more than ten years since I headed out to govern Germania Superior.” He directed a wry smile at his best friend. “I took more baggage and a much larger party then. But traveling with these three is likely to be a more enjoyable experience. They make me feel almost young again.”

  Graecus pressed his lips together to control his smile. “Galen Crassus could make any trip enjoyable. That young man’s humor never seems to stop.”

  “Adela certainly finds him amusing, and she amuses me.” He swept his hand toward the German beauty. “Look at her. It took some persuading to keep her in that tunic instead of the men’s clothes she likes for riding. I told her she could switch when we left Augusta Praetoria to head over the pass.”

  His new stable would start with nine chestnut mares and a chestnut stallion from the Rome estate. Many preferred a color-matched team, and an unusual color could increase the price. The nine mares were linked in three chains of three, but a stallion was easier to control being ridden instead of led. Adela stood with her fists on her hips, watching as he was saddled.

  Otto strolled over to her. “He’s a fine animal, but he’s small compared to the ones Father breeds.”

  He stood close, and Adela’s head tipped back as she looked up at him. “I’ll ride him. He’s more my size.”

  She took the reins from the stable slave and stroked the stallion’s nose. He jerked back and shook his mane. But as she spoke softly to him in Germanic and stroked his neck, he settled. His head turned to watch her, and he let her rub his blaze.

  With a firm grip on the base of his mane, she jumped to lay her stomach across the saddle, then twisted to swing herself into it. The chestnut danced as she settled in. She leaned forward and crooned more Germanic in his ear. His ears twitched, and then he stood calmly as she straightened. Two pats to his neck, and she nudged him into a walk toward Otto’s horse. When she drew alongside, she untied a sack from Otto’s saddle and attached it to her own.

  Tiberius stroked his jaw. “She has unusual skill in calming a spirited animal.”

  That drew a soft snort from Graecus. “She’ll make a good wife for a Germanic chieftain. Spirited animal is a good description of many of them.”

  “True, but if I were to bet, I’d put my money on a short Roman, not a giant German.”

  Graecus’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

  “Because there’s more to her than meets the eye, and Galen is the kind of man she needs, whether the two of them realize it yet or not.”

  Graecus shrugged. “She probably won’t marry either. A Hermunduri chieftain would never choose a Roman over one of his own tribe. Otto might have a chance, but will a Hermunduri consider a Vangiones too long under the Roman yoke to be worthy of a daughter like her?”

  Tiberius’s amused smile faded. “She needs something a man of her own tribe might refuse to give. Otto might give it, but Galen would for certain. It’s three weeks to Argentorate, maybe four days past that to take her back to her father. Much can happen in that time. For her sake, I hope it does.”

  Graecus’s gaze switched to Galen. “It’s regrettable that young man declined your offer to adopt.”

  Tiberius crossed his arms. “Indeed. Were it not for his faith, any true Roman would be proud to call him son.”

  Graecus mirrored his movement. “Perhaps it’s that very faith that makes him the man he is.”

  Tiberius’s head snapped sideways, and he frowned at his friend. “That faith leads men to make foolish choices.” The frown softened. “But any father who would make the choice his did would be proud of him.

  “Did he give you the letter for Decimus telling him I was returning with them?”

  “Yes. I’ll send that off by horse relay today. It should reach Decimus in about a week.”

  Tiberius straightened and slapped Graecus’s arm. “Time to head north and find what awaits in Germania.”

  Graecus’s smile broadened. “Give him my warmest greetings.”

  Tiberius grinned. “I will. May the gods guard your safety until I return, old friend.”

  “And yours as well.”

  Tiberius mounted his favorite gray stallion and took the lead of the first string of mares from his stable slave. Galen and Otto took the other two strings, leaving the string of three mules for Adela. With a flick of his hand, Tiberius started them forward.

  As Tiberius led the troop through the gate, he twisted in the saddle to look back. Graecus raised an arm in farewell. Tiberius responded in kind, then set his face toward the future.

  The pack mules followed willingly enough, but Adela was still sorry she was leading them. For some reason not obvious to her, their party had spread out along the Via Cassia, with each rider alone, followed by the string of three animals. Tiberius rode first, then Otto. Galen had stationed her between him and Otto. He said he didn’t want her riding last, but with him behind her, she couldn’t even watch him without turning too far in the saddle for comfort. The few times she did, he raised a hand and smiled.

  He was watching over her. That thought triggered the start of a smile. But that also meant he saw the many times she took the roll from the food bag and nibbled a little when her stomach started feeling uneasy.

  A short stop for a lunch of cheese and fruit had been refreshing, but Tiberius didn’t let them rest long. His goal was to reach the villa of a friend just north of Sutrium by midafternoon. He didn’t want to surprise them by arriving too late to be easily added to the dinner service.

  Adela rested her hand on her belly. Dinner didn’t sound that appealing, but at least her stomach stopped at queasy instead of launching its contents. As long as she nibbled the rolls, she was fine.

  Tiberius turned off the cobble-stone road onto a graveled track and reined in. Otto stopped beside him, and she rode to his other side before stopping. Galen chose to stop beside her instead of Otto.

  Tiberius swept his hand toward a clump of trees rising past a vineyard. “My cousin, Gaius Cornelius Cinna, lives here. He’ll be glad to host us for the night, as I have hosted him many times when he’s come to Rome. His wife loves to entertain, and she’ll expect us all to recline. Have any of you done that before?”

  Three heads shook in unison.

  Adela felt the warmth in his eyes as his gaze turned on her. “Very well. Adela, I’ll have her place you beside me. Follow my lead, and you’ll be fine.” He pressed his lips together to keep the smile from turning into a grin as he shifted to Galen and Otto. “I’ll also warn her that my Roman companion is really a German and not to expect elegant manners from either of you. She’s a gracious hostess who will enjoy feeding you well anyway.”

  “Adela, ride beside me.” He nudged his horse into a walk, and she guided the chestnut to his side.

  Tiberius dropped his voice. “Are you feeling well enough for a Roman dinner?”

  Her ears heated. “I think so.”

  “Good. The way you’re dressed will raise some eyebrows when we arrive, but don’t let that bother you. Come to dinner in one of the long tunics I had you pack, and you’ll fit in fine.”

  He turned his eyes forward, and Adela took a deep breath.

  “Tiberius?”

  “Yes?” His smile invited her words.

  “Thank you for unders
tanding… and saying nothing. And for helping me. I don’t want to be a burden.”

  “It’s not a burden. No, that’s not quite right. As you’re so fond of saying, voluptas meus est.”

  South of Ticinum, Day 49

  It was twelve days since they left Rome, and Galen was frustrated. Each night, they stayed at the villa of a friend of Tiberius. It was a luxurious way to travel, with private baths, soft beds, and sumptuous food. He didn’t have to sleep on rocky ground or stand guard half the night to make certain no one stole the horses.

  But the dinner conversations revolved around the politics of the Empire, and neither he nor Otto had much to say about that. He’d learned far more about political intrigues and social indiscretions than he ever wanted. Tiberius mostly listened after asking a leading question that got his host and any other guest talking.

  Most of the hostesses had been gracious, but a few had found their German guests terribly amusing and made no effort to conceal it. More than once Adela’s cheeks had flushed when she tried to use her Latin and was mocked for it. His jaw clenched at the memory. But at least the rudeness of one hostess never kept her from trying to talk with the next one.

  He’d hoped for the right opportunity to talk with Adela about Jesus, but Tiberius had her ride beside him most of the time. He and Otto rode together after they’d found the strings of mares were content so close to each other. Otto was good company, but time was slipping away. In less than two weeks, they’d be back at Argentorate.

  But tonight, they’d be at Tiberius’s own estate near Ticinum, and he planned to stay at least three nights to let the horses rest before crossing the high pass through the Alpes.

  With just the four of them in the privacy of Tiberius’s own home, maybe the chance he’d been praying for would finally come.

  Chapter 41: Not Worth Dying For

  Tiberius’s estate near Ticinum, Day 49

  A flurry of motion greeted them when Tiberius led their party into the stable yard at his estate. Galen had scarcely reined in when one stable slave appeared at Astrelo’s head and another stood beside him, waiting for the rope tied to the first mare.

  A middle-aged man hurried out the closest door under the portico and strode to Tiberius’s side. “Welcome, master. Graecus sent a courier to tell us you were coming.”

  Tiberius slipped from his saddle and tossed his reins to the stable boy. “I expected he would. We’ll be here three nights to rest the horses before proceeding to Germania.”

  “Very good, master. I have already spoken with the chef about tonight’s dinner, but if you have special requests for the next two nights, I will arrange that.”

  Tiberius glanced toward Adela. “Tell him I leave the menu to him, but nothing too rich.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “My German traveling companions enjoy simpler fare.” A full smile appeared. “And I must admit, my own stomach has come to prefer the same.”

  Tiberius turned to Galen. “Feel free to enjoy anything you find here: library, bath, gardens. There are some fine horses to ride as well. Let yours rest if you decide to tour the countryside. I’ll be inspecting the estate and visiting some neighbors, but I’ll join you each day for breakfast and dinner.”

  His gaze settled on Adela as she stood beside Otto, taking in everything and pointing Otto’s attention toward his garden.

  “I suggest you spend some time with Adela. I’m certain she’s missed your long conversations and Latin lessons since you reached Rome.” His mouth twitched. “A man has a duty to take care of the one he’s mentoring. Otto being with us shouldn’t change that…if you’re wise.”

  Galen fought a grin. “I’ll work on that.”

  As Tiberius walked away with his steward, Galen’s gaze shifted to Adela. She and Otto were already looking at a flowering vine that climbed the end column of the portico.

  Tiberius was right. A man shouldn’t neglect the woman who’d ensnared his heart. Especially when she might be only one conversation away from opening her own heart to God, if she’d just let him tell her why she should.

  Day 51

  It had been a relaxing day: a short ride around Tiberius’s estate, a visit to the market in Ticinum, time in the library showing Adela some Latin scrolls and having her read from a volume of Pliny’s Natural History.

  The day would have been perfect, except for two things. Almost every time he started to talk about God, Adela changed the subject. The only two times she didn’t, Otto did.

  In fact, Otto had stayed beside them the whole day, and that was the second problem. It normally wouldn’t have bothered Galen. Otto was as good a company as any man could be. But today, he wasn’t wanting the company of a man. He wanted time alone with Adela, and it hadn’t happened.

  Otto even followed them into the library, but he wasn’t content to select a scroll and read himself. He had to keep drifting over to join them. He’d start reading aloud over Galen’s shoulder, with wild mispronunciations and flamboyant hand gestures. Before Galen could say anything, he’d have Adela laughing so hard she’d be wiping tears from her eyes. It was funny, but laughing with Otto was a poor substitute for talking with Adela.

  Galen stood in the hallway outside her room, waiting to escort her to dinner. Just as her door opened, Otto came bounding out of his own room.

  He rested his elbow on Galen’s shoulder. “Ready for another good dinner? Tiberius keeps the best cooks, and there’s even enough to fill you up.”

  Otto grinned at Adela when she stepped into the hall, a vision of loveliness in the blue tunic Tiberius had provided. “Don’t you wonder where Galen puts all the food? He eats more than me, but look at us. A pony and a war horse. How can he do it?”

  Adela giggled. “Maybe he needs that much because he works so hard trying to teach me.” The warmth in her eyes fired his heart, and her smile took the sting from her laughing at Otto’s words. “He’s the best teacher in the Empire. Besides, it’s the heart, not the height, that matters. Any time I’m with him, voluptas meus est.”

  Otto slapped his shoulder. “Maybe you are the best teacher after all. There’s no doubt you’re the very best friend.”

  As the three of them strolled down the hallway toward the dining room, Galen’s irritation faded. The heart, not the height―Otto towered over him, but Adela knew what really mattered.

  Any day with his best friend and the woman he wanted to marry was a good day, and they were still at least two weeks from her home. When Adela was ready to listen, nothing would keep God from opening the door.

  After dinner, Galen leaned against the fluted column supporting the portico roof. Adela and Otto had left him conversing with Tiberius to explore the gardens near the main house of the villa.

  She was leaning over the edge of the man-made pond where the fish they’d eaten were raised. When Otto stepped up behind her, he placed his hands on her upper arms. A small shriek when he pushed her toward the water was replaced by the music of her laughter when he pulled her back at the last moment.

  A sigh welled up from deep within Galen. They looked like the perfect couple: Otto so tall and muscular, Adela so graceful and beautiful. Both children of chieftains. Many would say they were a perfect match. As much as he hated to admit it, they looked like they might be.

  When Tiberius joined him on the other side of the column, Galen masked his thoughts, but the man who played high-stakes politics missed almost nothing.

  “You’d better tell Adela you want her before Otto pushes you aside.”

  “I know she’d make a fine wife, but I can’t ask her now. She doesn’t follow the Way. My sister told Dec no for the same reason when he asked her to be his wife before returning to the legion.”

  Tiberius straightened. The Decimus that returned from the dead was not the man who’d left Mogontiacum for a surprise inspection of the legion in Argentorate. He’d given up nights with strange women and getting drunk with his friends. He’d remained aloof and brooding every ev
ening on the way back to Rome. Decimus told him it was his conversation with Publius that shifted his loyalty from Rome to Jesus. That conversation and the ridiculous claims that the Christian god had healed him with miracles and met him in his bedchamber.

  But was that all? Who’d told him it was miracles? Tiberius clenched his jaw. Galen’s sister was to blame. The change had started long before that talk with Publius, and he’d married the woman who started it after he’d become what she wanted.

  Tiberius turned a frown on Galen. “If that’s the case, you might as well give up now. She stops you every time you start to talk about religion.”

  Galen massaged his neck. “That’s no reason to give up. God wants to claim every heart, and I’ve been praying for Adela to want to listen. If she’ll just let me talk with her about Jesus, she’ll see the truth in what I say.”

  “Truth?” Tiberius snorted. “Can any man really know what’s true? Philosophers try. My closest friend Publius tried, and when he decided the ridiculous story about a Jewish carpenter being god and redeeming him from sin was the truth, it got him killed.”

  Galen tipped his head and raised one shoulder. “Yes and no. Publius’s body died, but he’s not dead. He’s alive with Jesus right now. So are my parents. Someday I’ll join them.” His gaze shifted to Adela, now talking and smiling with Otto. “Even if Adela and Otto marry, I still want Adela to know what I’ve found following Jesus.”

  Tiberius’s eyes narrowed. “What you’ve found?”

  “Yes. Contentment, peace, joy. Knowing God’s love here and now and knowing that life will only get better when I join Him after my body dies.” The slight smile that Galen wore most of the time appeared. “That makes anything life throws at me tolerable and even lets me find the good in the bad.”