Edge of Destiny

by Darlene Mindrup

  For some reason he couldn’t fathom, Decimus was reluctant to give over care of the girl to someone else. He felt responsible, for one thing, and her obvious fright was another. She had quickly lifted her eyes to his and then dropped them just as quickly, but he had read the fear there. She seemed to trust him even though he had given her no cause, and such faith humbled him.

  Reaching down, he scooped the girl into his arms. “Tell me where to go.”

  Antipus had already started for the house. “Follow me.”

  He led them through the peristyle and into the atrium. Lush potted plants filled the room, making it seem as though the garden outside spilled over to the inside. Following Antipus through the hallways, Decimus was struck by the opulent surroundings. Antipus must be one of the higher officials of Rome, and a very wealthy man. He frowned but kept his thoughts to himself.

  The baths were just as luxurious, and profuse potted plants again gave an impression of the airy outside. Pungent scents of sandalwood, myrrh, and a host of other odors he couldn’t name filled the steamy air.

  Gently he set Chara on her feet, keeping an arm around her for support. When he glanced down at her, he found her eyes studying his face, but she quickly dropped her gaze.

  Antipus clapped his hands, and a young girl entered the room. She glanced from Decimus and Chara back to Antipus.

  “Take the girl and see to her needs,” Antipus told her. “She has need of a clean tunic, and see that she gets anything else she may want.”

  Nodding, the girl came quickly to Chara’s side. “This way, my lady.”

  Chara’s head flew up in surprise. “Oh, but I’m not. . .”

  “It’s all right,” Decimus interrupted her. He had no idea what was going to happen or what role the girl might play over the next few days, but he wasn’t taking any chances. The less said, the better. “Just do as she says.”

  When Chara quickly dropped her eyes to the floor, Decimus grew exasperated. Perhaps it was the proper posture for a slave, but it was beginning to get on his already taut nerves. He would have to speak to her about it, but for now it would have to wait.

  He followed Antipus from the room and back along the corridors to the atrium. It was definitely cooler in here. Although the open roof allowed the sunshine into the room, the shade from surrounding trees cooled the air as it blew gently through the open portals.

  Antipus indicated that Decimus have a seat, and Antipus sat down across from him. He reached for a silver gong sitting on the table, giving it a gentle clang. In answer to his summons, a young man entered the room with a tray of refreshments.

  “Please, help yourself,” Antipus told Decimus.

  Decimus was surprised when his stomach rumbled. “Thank you.” He reached for a peach and a knife.

  Antipus settled back against the cushions of his seat. “Now, tell me exactly what happened and how you came to possess a slave.”

  Getting his thoughts together, Decimus regaled Antipus with his tale from the moment he had entered the market until the time he had fled. Antipus’s lips twitched with amusement.

  “It’s not funny, Antipus,” Decimus protested. “What am I going to do with the girl?”

  “Settle down, my friend. As I said before, it would take but a moment to set her free. She can remain here, if you like.”

  For some reason, Decimus was reluctant to commit himself to such an action. He knew it was the right thing to do; then why did he hesitate? Instead, he changed the subject. “What was your idea for getting me out of Rome?”

  The old man pursed his lips, taking his time before answering. Lifting a pear from the plate, he began to methodically cut it into sections.

  Decimus could barely contain his impatience. He felt like ripping the fruit from the man’s hands and demanding an explanation. He managed to control himself, but only just.

  Antipus leaned forward, his expression serious. “One of the main problems we have with leaving the country at this time is that the Romans have learned that Christians won’t lie or deny their Lord.”

  “And?”

  “Patience, my friend. If you would let me explain without interrupting?”

  Leaning back, Decimus forced himself to relax. “I’m sorry. Please continue.”

  “The Romans also know that a Christian won’t own a slave.”

  When Decimus opened his mouth, Antipus fixed him with a look, and Decimus subsided.

  “The soldiers have become devious in their ways of sniffing out Christians. Anyone who boards a ship is asked if he is one.” He leaned forward to emphasize his point. “But if you board a ship and they know you are a slave, they will likely not bother you.”

  Decimus rose slowly to his feet. “Are you suggesting that I become a slave to escape Rome? Because if you are, you must be out of your mind! I will never again bow to the yoke of any man, nor will I ever subject anyone else to it.” He shook his head angrily. “No, Antipus, I will never be any man’s slave again, nor do I ever intend to own one.”

  Antipus raised his brows. “But you already do.”

  Sinking back onto the couch, Decimus put his head in his hands. He had already forgotten this afternoon’s fiasco. “What a mess I’ve made of things.”

  “Decimus, listen to me. I know how you feel, and I admire you for it. No one could fault you for your compassion where the girl is concerned. Probably I would have done the same in your situation.” He grinned. “I have done so on occasion myself, purchasing slaves here or there and then giving them their freedom.” He watched Decimus carefully. “None of the servants in my house are slaves. They have all been granted their freedom and may leave anytime they choose.”

  Surprised, Decimus searched the old man’s face for the truth of the statement.

  “Chara will be safe with me.” Antipus suddenly sobered. “I wish I could say the same for my own wife. The more I become involved with clandestine Christian affairs, the greater the risk of detection. I would ask that you take my wife with you—but that would certainly bring notice to me, and it’s not yet time. I need to help as many others as I can to escape from this city. I’m not sure how, but I’ll find a way.” He stared thoughtfully at his twisted fingers. “My only fear is for the safety of Agrippina. As my wife, she will be subject to the same punishment I receive.”

  “What of Chara then? What would happen to her were you to be arrested?” Decimus queried in concern.

  Antipus glanced up. “What? Oh, yes. She would be sold on the slave market again as would any others in this household.” He smiled without mirth. “Of course, my servants know that if anything happens they are to run as far and as fast as they possibly can. I wouldn’t wish any of them to become lion feed, nor a human torch in Nero’s gardens, for that matter.”

  “Nero is an animal,” Decimus declared vehemently.

  “No,” Antipus answered gently. “Nero is a devil. If I believed it possible, I would say he was Satan incarnate.” Shaking his head sadly, his eyes took on a preoccupied look. “What has happened to the glory of Rome? What went wrong? That the people can worship a man as a god. And such a man! Someone who would kill his own mother and wife and then marry a prostitute. Is anywhere safe from such a madman?”

  “Rome has tentacles everywhere, but less so in Britannia,” Decimus declared. “I don’t remember much about my birth country, but I know it is far enough away that Rome has less concern with it.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure,” Antipus answered. “Since Nero forced Seneca to commit suicide, more and more his generals have the ear of the emperor. They have been stirring up trouble, for they are hungry for conquest.”

  The young serving boy entered the room. “There is someone to see you at the door, my lord.”

  Antipus got quickly to his feet. “Ah, the person I’ve been waiting for. Bring him in.”

  Decimus came to his feet, the blood draining from his face as the young boy reentered the room, followed by a Roman soldier, impressively dressed in all his regalia.<
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  Chapter 2

  Chara felt the warm, scented waters of the bath drift soothingly around her as she stepped down the stairs into the tiled bath. The young girl who had helped her with her things was lifting a cruse of oil for inspection.

  “Would you like a violet scent when you are finished, my lady?”

  Instead of answering her, Chara asked a question of her own. “What is your name?”

  The girl smiled shyly. “Candace, my lady.” Again she held up the cruse, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

  What would Decimus have her do? Intuitively Chara knew something important was going on in the other room. Decimus had spoken of plans, and both men seemed worried that there might be danger. He had deliberately stopped her from revealing to Candace that she was, herself, a slave.

  Still, it had been a long time since Chara had been showered with such attention. And how long had it been since she had a real bath? She felt the luxurious sensation of the water swirling around her and reveled in the feel of it. There was no telling how long it would be before she had such a chance again.

  “The violet scent would be nice, Candace, but do you think you could leave me alone for a while?”

  Candace didn’t seem surprised. “Of course.” She motioned to a small gong beside the pool. “Just ring that when you’re finished, and I will come.”

  Left on her own, Chara allowed the thoughts she had been holding at bay to surface. Closing her eyes tightly, she prayed for continued strength. God had been merciful to her thus far, but what did her future hold? Why was she being tried in such a way?

  Tears trickled down her cheeks as she thought of her loving mother who had so recently died. Pain washed through her as she once again relived the last eight months.

  Her mother had been sick for so long, and her stepfather had taken to drinking and carousing. He had once been an educated and cultured man, but now he would come home at all hours in a drunken stupor, and always her mother forgave him and tried to care for him. But she had been too sick herself.

  And Franco, her stepbrother, had only made matters worse. Ever since Chara and her mother had entered the household, Franco had hated her. Perhaps he considered her a usurper who would one day cause him to lose some of his inheritance. Whatever the reason, he had made Chara’s life pure misery. But she had refused to tell her mother, knowing that it would only cause dissension and hard feelings.

  Then her stepfather had died. In a drunken daze, he had managed to fall from the dock into the river. No one had known. Some fishermen found him one morning washed up on the bank.

  After that, her mother’s health declined even more. Chara attributed that to the fact that upon his father’s death, Franco had made it quite clear that Chara and her mother were there only on his forbearance. Chara squirmed at the memory.

  And then one morning, Chara had gone into her mother’s room with her breakfast tray only to find that her mother had died peacefully in the night. Chara grieved, but she had little time to mourn, for Franco had let Chara know that he wanted nothing to do with her, and he began to make her life as hard as possible.

  “You’re so ugly no decent man would want you,” he told her. “And I’m certainly not going to be responsible for you the rest of your life.” After that, she had been relegated to the role of servant.

  One night Franco had been unusually friendly and invited Chara to dine with him. Although Chara was suspicious, she didn’t want to offend him, so she reluctantly accepted. Her stepbrother had been charming, lulling Chara into a false sense of security. Perhaps he had had a change of heart. It was only later that she found out he had slipped a potion into her drink that would make her sleep.

  When she awakened, she found herself in leg chains far from her home of Gaul. Franco had sold her to a slave trader heading for Rome. The journey had been long and arduous, the heat unbearable. The only thing that had saved her from rape was her constant illness.

  Chara realized early that something about her seemed to appeal to a particular breed of men, the kind she had no desire to attract. She knew it was not her looks, for she had none to speak of, but something about her drew them nevertheless. She hadn’t had to worry about Tarus, the slave trader, for his interest lay elsewhere. He preferred the young boys, and Chara felt sympathy every time Tarus stopped to buy new slaves and a young boy was among them.

  Then they had reached Rome, and Tarus decided that, rather than spend extra coins on sending the slaves to the baths, he would just stop in the marketplace and hold his own auction.

  Chara had learned well the ways of a slave; Tarus had seen to that. When the auction had begun, she kept her eyes demurely on the ground. She had glanced up once to encounter the gaze of a ruddy-faced merchant, his bright red tunic matching almost to perfection his complexion. She shivered with distaste when he looked into her eyes. His own had grown large, a strange gleam coming into them.

  When she heard a second voice entering a bid, she had let curiosity get the best of her and she looked at the man. His black gaze had rested on her only a moment, but she had felt defiled. His robes told her that he was a priest. And she shivered at what he probably had in mind for her. Her mother had told her appalling stories of the Romans and their temple prostitutes.

  And then she had seen Decimus. His angry blue gaze had stared into hers, and she felt her heart lurch within her. He was handsome, strongly built. His blond hair shone in the sunlight. Without knowing why, she had longed for him to be the one to purchase her. Realizing from his ragged appearance this could not be so, she still gave way to her imagination. Something about him drew a response from Chara, and she realized that she was making a peremptory judgment. He could be a madman for all she knew, yet there was an indefinable quality about him that spoke of character well hidden.

  When a third man had started to bid on her, she had felt mortified with shame. Each man had telling eyes, and what they said caused her to become almost faint with trepidation. She had prayed harder.

  In the end, it had been Decimus who had purchased her after all. One hundred denarii! How could he afford so much? His clothes had led her to believe he was just an impoverished bystander. She had hoped for him to purchase her, but now what? What did he have in mind for her?

  Pain washed through her when she remembered him saying that he didn’t want her. Wasn’t that what Franco had told her? But if Decimus didn’t want her, why had he paid such an exorbitant price? It didn’t make sense, but Chara knew one thing for certain. God had cared for her from the beginning, and He surely wouldn’t desert her now.

  Lifting the silver wand, Chara rang the gong.

  ❧

  Antipus saw the expression on Decimus’s face and hastily tried to reassure him. “It’s all right, Decimus. Galla is a friend.”

  Decimus glanced suspiciously from one to the other. Galla stepped forward, extending his arm. Looking from Galla’s face to the extended arm, Decimus slowly reached out his own. Galla clasped Decimus’s forearm with his hand, and Decimus hesitantly returned the pressure.

  Looking relieved, Antipus motioned for them to be seated. “Galla and I have a plan for getting you out of the city.”

  Decimus’s eyes narrowed. “Why would a Roman soldier want to help me escape from the city?”

  Galla regarded him steadily. “Because I am a Christian, too.”

  “A Roman solider who is a Christian?” Decimus studied the man warily. “I hope you’ll excuse me if I’m not quite convinced.”

  Smiling, Galla turned to Antipus. “I think our young friend needs some persuading.” He turned back to Decimus. “Just what would it take to reassure you?”

  Confused, Decimus looked from one man to the other. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

  Antipus intervened. “Really, Decimus, we only want to help you. Would Marcus have sent you here otherwise?”

  Shaking his head, Decimus eyed the other two suspiciously. “I’m sorry, it’s just that. . .”

  “You
are right to trust no one,” Galla told him. “Christians are dying every day in the arena because of their faith in their neighbors and even their own families.”

  “Please, gentlemen, we haven’t much time,” Antipus interrupted. “Let’s have a seat and discuss all the particulars.”

  Decimus sat, but his body remained tense. The only reassurance he had that these men were genuine was the word of a close friend. If he couldn’t trust these men, he knew of nowhere else to go.

  “Decimus has a problem,” Antipus told Galla. “He found himself the possessor of a slave today.”

  Galla’s eyebrows rose. “A slave?”

  Color flew to Decimus’s cheeks, and he hurried to explain the situation. Galla sat back thoughtfully. He looked at Antipus. “Could he not leave the girl with you?”

  “I have already suggested that,” Antipus told him. “Anyway, I have a plan that might get Decimus out of the city, and perhaps a few others, as well.”

  Galla listened to the old man’s suggestion. Pinching his lips between his thumb and finger, he considered a moment. “Your idea has some merit. No one would question a centurion about his slaves.” Galla contemplated Decimus, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “And how would you feel being the slave of a Roman centurion?”

  Decimus’s eyes flickered briefly, but he refused to be baited. “How would I get to Britannia? I have no idea how to get there from here.”

  Surprised, Galla looked from Antipus to Decimus. “Didn’t Antipus tell you? I’ll be taking you.”

  Equally surprised, Decimus glared back at him. “You? Why ever would you be taking me to Britannia?”

  “I see Antipus hasn’t told you very much.”

  Antipus smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders. “I thought I would leave that to you.”

  Nodding, Galla turned back to Decimus. “Britannia is my home.”

  Though he was taken aback, Decimus remained silent.

  “At least it was the home of my father, and my grandfather and great-grandfather before that. It would take too much time to explain the whole situation,” Galla told him. “Let me summarize for you. Many years ago, Julius Caesar penetrated my great-grandfather’s homeland. My grandfather’s father was impressed with the man, but he was also afraid. He sensed that the man had a destiny which would bring him into contact again with Britannia. Later, my grandfather and my father met Claudius, who decided that Britannia would be an asset to Rome. Claudius annexed it into the empire, and for the most part treated my people well. My father decided to accept Claudius’s offer of serving in the Roman army.”