by Diaz, Debra
After hours of quoting every passage he could think of, Paulus stopped and prayed aloud for a long time. When he had finished, his voice raw and low…meant only for her…he asked, “Are you afraid, Alysia?”
Alysia hurt for him, knowing that his suffering was for her, and that he had no thought of himself, or what the emperor might have in store for him. But she could answer him honestly.
“There is a calmness in me, that comes only from the mercy of God. I am afraid, in a way, but—it is a controlled fear. I don’t know how else to describe it. Oh, Paulus!” She squeezed her eyes shut. “If only he weren’t making you go—I think it would be almost easy for me! I will pray with all my heart that you will be able to bear it.”
“Don’t speak as if there is no hope, Alysia. We don’t know God’s will in this, or what he will do.”
Alysia didn’t answer. She had a feeling…but maybe it was just a feeling. God could work a miracle if he chose. He had done so before. And yet, the feeling was strong and persistent, that this time tomorrow…
“Paulus,” she whispered. “I have a passage for you.” She waited a moment, willing her voice to be steady, and it was.
“A highway will be there, and it will be called the Highway of Holiness. The wicked will not journey on it, it will be for those who walk in the Way…No lion will walk on it, nor any ravenous beast, but only the redeemed, and the ransomed of the Lord will return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy. They shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing will be no more.”
She sensed Paulus’ head turn toward her, though she couldn’t see it, and hers turned toward him. Again their hands stretched out, and failed to touch.
CHAPTER XXII
Paulus got to his feet as the door creaked open and a guard entered the prison. He watched with heart-rending anguish as Alysia stood and held out her hands. The guard released her from the chains and waited for her to step out in front of him.
“Move on. Our orders are that you’re not to touch the other prisoner.”
She looked over her shoulder, meeting Paulus’ eyes only for an instant and whispered, “Remember.”
She was reminding him that he had promised, if at all possible, to rescue Rachel. She was telling him that he must not do anything to try and save her…not while their daughter was still in danger. As if he needed reminding…
He tried to speak, and couldn’t. The door clanged shut. The other two prisoners stirred, and the servant asked, “Why did they take her, and not us?”
Paulus wondered that, too. Surely Caligula was not going to—No, he wouldn’t let his thoughts go there. He went back to his bench and leaned against the dank stone wall, his face unshaven and haggard, his mind in turmoil. Alysia had seemed at peace, but he wasn’t…perhaps he was resisting it, perhaps he didn’t want to be at peace. It seemed a betrayal, somehow. He had a right to be distraught, hadn’t he…a right to be angry, a right to feel like killing the emperor!
“Sir,” said one of the men across from him, “would you tell me more about this God you worship?”
Paulus put his head in his hands and struggled to bring his feelings under control. “God help me,” he said hoarsely, and finally looked up at the emperor’s servant. The other man had his back to them, slumped in a posture of hopelessness.
“Yes,” he said, “yes, I will tell you…”
Hours later, the guards came for the two condemned men. One of the soldiers, followed closely by three others, also removed Paulus’ chains, but immediately put the shackles on his wrists. “You’re to go and get cleaned up,” the soldier said, with a note of irony his voice. “You’ll be sitting with the emperor.”
* * *
The Campus Martius lay west of the Palatine, between the Tiber River and the Quirinal Hill. Once a rural area full of swamps in the low ground, and green meadows where it sloped upward, its vast landscape was now thickly packed with the building projects undertaken by Augustus Caesar. The Pantheon, a temple to honor all the gods, was here…as were the splendid Mausoleum of Augustus, the Altar of Peace, and the Baths of Agrippa. Though marble and stone had encroached upon its natural beauty, there were still grass-covered spaces for ball playing and horseback riding. Adding to the scenic view, verdant hills rose majestically beyond the river. Fairs and markets and horse races were often held for the people’s enjoyment; there were parks dotted with evergreens and poplars, colonnaded gardens, finely sculpted monuments, and dozens of magnificent temples. The Campus itself had been dedicated to Mars, the god of war.
Among its buildings was the Taurus Amphitheater, old but sturdy and imposing, made of stone with wooden seats and stairways. Caligula did not think it large or grand enough, and had begun building another one near the Pantheon. However, it sufficed for gladiatorial contests, animal slaughters and the execution of criminals.
Paulus had shaved and “cleaned up”, and was given a new, dark blue tunic. He was placed, bound, upon a horse, surrounded by cavalry, and taken to the amphitheater. The guards led him through an enclosed stairway to the area where the emperor and his retinue had already been seated. Claudius and Agrippa sat on either side of him; Paulus, to his own surprise, was to sit next to Claudius.
The emperor’s uncle seemed to be genuinely disturbed, and looked at him anxiously. “Paulus Valerius, I have often remembered you. I very much regret these—circumstances.”
“Claudius.” Paulus didn’t feel capable of making conversation.
The section reserved for the emperor and his guests consisted of wooden chairs with arms, rather than the curving, bench-like seating that filled the remainder of the amphitheater. Caligula’s chair had a high, decorative back, which probably impeded the view of many behind him. All the chairs were painted green, the emperor’s favorite color—next to purple. There were spaces here and there for guards to keep watch, and a receptacle on Caligula’s right bore a pole from which unfurled a huge purple banner; embroidered in gold were the letters: SPQR…the Senate and People of Rome.
Caligula’s eyes shifted toward Paulus, and he nodded at one of the soldiers standing by, who then stepped forward and released Paulus’ bonds. Again surprised, he looked at Caligula. “I want you to be able to enjoy the show. But don’t try anything, former Legate Paulus Valerius Maximus, or you will regret it.”
Paulus ignored him, rubbing his wrists, and his eyes roved over the crowd restlessly. He looked down at the arena, where a group of musicians sat in wooden folding chairs, playing their instruments—brass horns, flutes and cymbals. The musicians appeared to be favorites of Caligula’s and he swayed as he listened to them. It was a cruelly ironic performance—compared to what was to come.
The kings, dignitaries and officials from the surrounding provinces were gathered behind Caligula, all in their native dress. The emperor had also insisted that the senators sit together, for he liked to watch their expressions when something particularly gruesome occurred on the sand-covered arena. Paulus knew many of them; they nodded at him, eyeing him with thoughtful frowns and then talking to each other in muted tones. Indeed, he recognized a great many people he had known before he left Rome ten years ago. He thought for a moment he had seen his brother-in-law, and he wondered if his family was here. Omari might be here, too, somewhere in the slave section.
He felt a clutch at his heart when he saw Simon, not far from him…there were Alexander and Rufus, Horatius and his son, Camillus, Aquila, and several more of his friends. And there, bless her, was Daphne. He’d already seen Susanna, sitting with the emperor’s wife behind the foreign dignitaries. None of them would ever have come here…for any reason…except to honor Alysia and him, and to hold them up in prayer.
Paulus gave them the briefest nod, not wishing to call attention to them. He glanced around at the guards dispersed throughout the amphitheater and was disappointed not to see Flavius. It seemed the emperor had been sending him away quite often on various errands. His gaze moved on to the throng of thousands pouring into the bu
ilding through the many entrances and stairways. He’d already seen one of the handbills that had been posted on walls and passed out to the public yesterday and all through the night, proclaiming: COME AND SEE—ROME’S FINEST GLADIATORS, EXOTIC ANIMALS, AND PUBLIC EXECUTION! MURDERERS AND BRIGANDS, A WOMAN GUILTY OF SACRILEGE AND SORCERY AGAINST THE EMPEROR!
It was not every day women were executed; that alone was enough to draw a crowd. Paulus felt sick to his very soul; habitually, his trained eyes went over the building, looking for avenues of escape…but the place was tightly packed and well guarded…and he would not leave here without Alysia. A brief turn of his head brought him eye to eye with Megara, who sat behind and to the left of the emperor, at the end of the row of ambassadors. He looked away, but she continued to stare at him.
You, she thought, are getting just what you deserve! She told herself that, over and over. But her sense of triumph was sadly overshadowed by her own predicament. She couldn’t leave the palace, except with his permission, and escorted by guards. She hadn’t wanted to come here today, but Caligula had insisted. He had not come to her yet…but he would. It was a fate worse than death! And if she didn’t please him—what then? Perhaps she would really cut her wrists this time…
“Will somebody tell me,” Caligula said loudly, “why we are not having this spectacle at the Circus Maximus instead of this raggedy place?”
“You know very w—well the Circus is being prepared for the games,” his uncle answered. “And it is much too large for this k—kind of exhibition.”
“Someday we shall have a real amphitheater in Rome…very well then, let us begin!”
* * *
Alysia stood close to the massive doors that stretched so far upward a person had to crane one’s neck to see where they met the ceiling. Beyond the doors came a tumultuous noise, like the roaring of some colossal animal. She stood alone, except for five guards, who remained silent but watched her curiously. Much earlier, slaves had dressed her in a white silk gown, scooped low at the neck and falling in fluid lines to her sandal-clad feet. Her waist-length hair had been washed and brushed, and left loose about her shoulders and back. Caligula obviously wished to make a display of her.
She had been standing there for a long time. She’d listened to the clashing swords of the gladiators, the howling frenzy of animals killing each other, the screams of other prisoners who were dispatched in a manner she thankfully could not see. Yet somehow, she was calm. God had filled her with such an assurance of his presence that she was bearing the unbearable; she felt the prayers of believers falling like an anointing oil upon her. It was a cushioning, a protection from the utter panic that hovered somewhere near, held at bay by a force greater than anything she could have summoned for herself.
She bowed her head and whispered, “Thank you, Jesus.” The guards looked at each other, one grinning in derision, the others shifting uncomfortably. They moved suddenly to surround her, and she realized the noise from without had lessened in intensity. The doors began to slowly swing outward. The soldiers moved forward, compelling her to move with them…two on each side of her and one behind. Just as they reached the opening, they paused, and the guard to her immediate left spoke, unexpectedly.
“May the gods be with you.”
She turned to look at him, her eyes searching his face. He didn’t know what she sought there, but it was a look he was never to forget. He watched her eyes light with a sudden radiance. “He is with me. Always.”
The huge doors were completely open. A blare of trumpets and the rolling of drums filled the arena, followed by silence, and then she heard a man’s voice calling out the nature of her crimes: sacrilege, sorcery, murder. The stakes where the other prisoners had died were still there, but mercifully their bodies had been removed. Blood stained the sand around the posts, and left its trail toward another passageway where the bodies had been dragged. A low roar began to issue from the horde of spectators, expectant, excited, titillated by what had gone before.
A soldier stood at the center post, waiting for her. It wasn’t far away, but it appeared to her the longest walk she would ever take. Somehow she was able to put one foot in front of the other; she was able to lift her shoulders and head.
“Thank you, Lord,” she whispered again. In her heart she said goodbye to all things, to everyone she loved. “Stephen, my son…I will see you, very soon.”
* * *
His hands clenched, Paulus was sweating profusely, having undergone the torture of watching what might be about to befall his wife. First, a number of gladiators had fought, until all had fallen but two; at last one of them lay wounded and the survivor turned to look up at the emperor. Caligula made the customary gesture of pointing his thumb toward his throat and called down boredly, “Next time I want to see a real fight!” The gladiator thrust his sword into his opponent. The crowd roared…and then was ready for some other diversion.
Animals were let loose…a panther, a zebra, several chimpanzees. The wall encircling the lower part of the arena protected the people, who were thrilled at the spectacle of seeing the panther pursue and kill the zebra. A gorilla shuffled out from a doorway, with a long rope wound around its neck and attached to something at the other end that no one could see—hopefully something other than a human. The two wild beasts engaged in a deadly struggle; women screamed, men shouted with excitement. The wounded gorilla finally succeeded in snapping the jaws of the panther, and then its neck. It chased the chimpanzees, causing them to flee in every direction and try to climb up the wooden barrier…causing more screams and shouts…but the gorilla caught them and put them to a grisly end.
The surviving gladiator ran out, with a net and trident, but the gorilla grabbed the net from him and flung it away. The animal made terrifying sounds and expressions, showing its teeth; within minutes the gladiator was dead, and the gorilla was rewarded by being pulled inside the shadowed doorway, to be kept to fight another day.
It was inhuman…beyond comprehension…but Caligula was loving it, as were most of the people. Even Claudius and Agrippa seemed to enjoy the display. The foreigners didn’t quite know how to react, and though some appeared to be gripped by excitement, others looked sick and disgusted.
Condemned prisoners from the Tullianum prison, and the two from the palace, were sent into the arena, tied to the posts set in the center, and forced…one by one…to explain to the emperor why they had committed their crimes. Most could not think of an explanation and begged for mercy, but Caligula laughed at them. The emperor’s servant, who had that day become a believer, refused to say anything at all, which infuriated Caligula…though he held firmly to his look of amusement. The executioners came out with great, curved swords to cut off their heads.
The audience had quieted by now; there was nothing sporting about this. The senators were glum, not liking to be subjected to such unpleasantness…whether deserved or not. Oblivious to the subtle change in the mood of the people, Caligula shouted, “Bring out the woman!”
Paulus gripped the wood of his chair so hard that his fingers bled. He heard the drums and trumpets, and watched as she was led into the arena and abandoned by her guards. A murmur went through the audience. Her gown was made brilliant by the sun; she walked with confident steps to the section where the emperor was seated, and paused. She seemed to make a deliberate effort not to look at Paulus. He understood. Her mind was focused.
Caligula said, with his usual penchant for drama, “Have you anything to say in regard to these crimes, Alysia of Athens?”
Her voice carried clearly to those within hearing distance; even those farthest away were impressed by her poise, and seeming lack of fear.
“In regard to the charge of murder, I consider myself not guilty, for I only defended myself. For that reason I ask you to pardon me, and I ask for the forgiveness of the family of Magnus Eustacius. I’m sorry for what happened, although it was not my fault.”
“Not your fault?” Caligula turned and pointed. “This is t
he uncle of the murdered man. Stand up, Senator Eustacius. Your brother is dead and you are the nearest relative. Will you forgive this woman? For if you can forgive her, why should I not be as magnanimous?”
Eustacius struggled to his feet, looking remarkably like his brother, his face red with the effort. “My Lord, this woman murdered my nephew! And now she seeks to lay the blame at his feet. She must pay for what she has done with her own life!”
The senator resumed his seat, panting. Caligula lifted an eyebrow, gazing down at Alysia.
“And the other charge? Do you deny attempting to put a spell upon your emperor in order to weaken him, so that you might impose your own will upon him?”
“I am innocent of the charge of sorcery.”
“I command you to tell the people what you said to me.”
Alysia paused. Caligula seemed maddened by her hesitation and shouted, “Repeat to the people the words you spoke to me!”
“Sir, the spirit of the Lord prevents my speaking them at this time, and in this place.”
“Spirit! You admit it is a spirit that leads you? You confess that this spirit possesses you?”
“I confess that God leads me, of my own free will, in the persons of the Holy Spirit and the Lord Jesus Christ.”
“You are condemned out of your own mouth!” the emperor proclaimed. He made a furious motion, spurring to action someone who stood below.
Paulus saw Alysia turn, as the guard waiting by the center post came toward her. The guard gestured and she followed him to the post, where he took up the rope attached to it and lashed her arms securely behind her. Then Paulus saw, with an agonized groan in his soul, the appearance of three male lions, their bodies almost skeletal with starvation. At once their eyes fixed on the effulgence of Alysia’s gown. They made a cautions circle around her, growling and snapping at each other; then, when it seemed they would all pounce upon her, they began to inch backward, pawing the air.