Edge of Destiny

by Darlene Mindrup

  At last, she heard feet in the passageway outside the door. Stumbling across the room, she opened the door. Trophimus was in the corridor, unlashing several ropes from their positions on the walls. He glanced her way briefly.

  “What’s happening?” Chara yelled above the noise of the storm. Water rushed down the stairs from the open door above, and Chara jumped back, squealing as the cold water soaked her feet.

  “It doesn’t look good,” he yelled back. “We may have to start unloading the cargo to save the ship. You need to. . .”

  He stopped as they heard a sound above their heads. A strange creaking sound was followed by a loud crash as one of the masts from topside crashed through the deck and below.

  Chara screamed, leaping to safety. Water plunged through the gaping hole left above her, quickly filling the corridor to a depth of several inches.

  Trophimus flung himself across the corridor to Chara’s side. “Are you all right?”

  At her nod, he handed her the ropes in his hands. “Here, take these ropes to Decimus. I have to try and stop the water from coming in. Whatever you do, though, don’t go out on the deck. Just hand the rope to someone close to the door.”

  Chara took the ropes, holding back another scream as more water rushed into the passageway. She struggled to the gangway, clinging to it as she made her way to the top. The door at the top was hanging on its hinges. Water rushed across the deck and down the gangway. Chara clung more tightly to it, not giving an inch.

  At the doorway, Chara searched for a familiar face. Everywhere men struggled with the elements. Sailors fought alongside legionnaires, all fighting for their lives.

  She finally spotted Decimus a few yards away. He was binding amphorae to the masts with ropes. She yelled, but the wind was so fierce it threw her words back at her. Clinging to the gangway with one hand, she began to frantically motion with the ropes in her other. Her arms began to ache with the effort.

  The ship plunged into another trough, and waves crashed over the side, knocking Decimus from his feet. Chara screamed. Throwing the ropes down, she tried desperately to reach him as he was swept toward the side of the ship.

  The mighty ship rose high in the air, then plunged and slammed itself against the water. Chara was thrown off her feet, knocked about like a straw doll. Waves rushed over the sides, pulling at her as they were sucked back to the ocean from whence they came.

  Chara managed to lunge for the edge of the gangway, but her grip was tenuous. She clutched frantically with both hands, her fingers digging into the wood posts. She yelled for Decimus, but she knew he could not hear her. Closing her eyes, she prayed for his safety.

  Oh, Lord God, she prayed fervently, save me! Save us all!

  When the second wave came, Chara’s slight strength was no match for it. She was ripped from the gangway, her body hurtling toward the side of the ship. She just managed to grab hold of a piece of rope that was holding an amphora of oil before the ship rose again on the waves.

  What had happened to Decimus? Clinging tightly to the rope with both hands, Chara prayed for help. Through eyes filled with saltwater, she saw Decimus pulling himself to his feet. His clothes clung to his body. With one hand, he pushed his drenched hair from his eyes.

  Then Chara noticed what she hadn’t seen before. A rope was tied to Decimus’s waist, securely holding him to the ship’s mast. Thank God!

  Trophimus reached the top of the gangway just in time to see Chara’s precarious hold on the rope give way. She slid quickly to the ship’s bulwark, her body plastered momentarily to the wood.

  Decimus glanced up in time to see Trophimus standing in the stairway, a look of horror upon his face. His eyes flew in the direction the young Roman was looking, and the color suddenly drained from his face.

  “Chara!”

  Both men lunged toward her at the same time. Decimus was brought up short by the rope around his waist. Clawing frantically at the knot, he watched helplessly as Trophimus was knocked from his feet. A huge wave sucked him toward Chara. Still, he couldn’t reach them. If only he had a few more feet of rope.

  Trophimus grabbed Chara around the waist, holding tightly as the ship dipped again. They were again plastered to the bulwark. Trophimus knew he had only one chance to save Chara’s life. As the ship lifted again, he heaved Chara with all his might toward Decimus.

  Decimus had only enough time to grab her tunic before the ship lunged again. Clinging tightly to her garment, they both watched helplessly as Trophimus was slowly sucked over the side of the ship.

  “No!”

  Chara’s scream echoed around the ship, rising above the whine of the wind. Decimus didn’t know if the moans he was hearing were coming from his wife or the bansheelike winds.

  He managed to get them below, helping Chara to the bunk. Although she clung to him tightly, she stared at him with vacant eyes. Picking her up, he gently lowered her to the bunk.

  There was no time to change her clothes. He had to get back topside. He knew he shouldn’t leave her, but he had no choice. Teeth chattering, he covered her with a fur blanket, kissed her cold lips, and returned to help fight the storm.

  Chara must have slept, for when she awoke, fingers of light were piercing the darkness of the cabin. Disoriented, she lifted herself on one elbow, wondering momentarily where she was. Then the events of the night before came crashing down on her like the waves that had pummeled the ship. Moaning, she lay back down, her body racked with sobs.

  First Antipus and Agrippina. Now Trophimus. Dear God! Why? Why? She remembered Trophimus saying that he felt led to stay with her and Decimus. Had that been God’s plan? That Trophimus would lay down his life for hers? She sobbed harder. Dear, dear Trophimus.

  Galla and Decimus found Chara buried beneath a damp fur, crying as though her very heart were breaking. Decimus felt his own heart squeeze tightly within him. What could he do to comfort her? He hadn’t been much use when the others had died, so what could he say now?

  Deciding that words were useless, he took her in his arms and held her tightly. His eyes found Galla’s, and there was sympathy there.

  “You better stay with her. My men and I will help the captain repair the ship.” He nodded at Chara. “She needs you more.”

  Decimus pulled Chara with him as he lay back against the bunk. She was no longer sobbing, but her body was tight with tension. He began to stroke her hair gently, murmuring soft words of encouragement. Eventually he could feel her begin to relax. She lifted her eyes to his, the ravages of her tears plain upon her face.

  “It was my fault!”

  Decimus stiffened in surprise. “What?”

  “I didn’t know that you were in no danger. I didn’t see the rope around your waist. When I saw you being washed to the side. . .” She buried her face against his chest. “I didn’t listen to you or to Trophimus. I went out on the deck.”

  He was humbled to know that she loved him that much. He sighed, pulling her closer. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just happened.”

  “Oh, God!” she moaned, wishing the Lord would take away the picture of Trophimus’s face as he was plunging over the side.

  Decimus knew that nothing but time would take away the memories. “He saved your life, my love, and he did it because he loved you. Remember that. Think on that.”

  Chara clung to him more tightly. What if she lost Decimus? It seemed that everyone she loved died. Dear God, please don’t let anything happen to Decimus. Please!

  As Decimus continued to hold her, the hours he had spent fighting the sea began to take their toll. His body relaxed, and soon his breathing told Chara that he was fast asleep. She sighed, snuggling closer. Whatever happened, they still had each other.

  ❧

  It took several days to repair the ship. The mast that had plunged through the deck was split in two and had to be roped together.

  The sun shone brightly, a mocking reminder of what they had endured. Many supplies had been washed o
verboard, but the captain felt they had enough to make it to Britannia without touching those of Rome.

  Since temperatures had dropped with the storm and were slow to increase, the captain thought it best if the soldiers, crew, and others made their sleeping quarters in the storage hold. Quarters would be cramped, but a lot better than freezing or becoming sick.

  Decimus worried about Chara. She was lethargic, her eyes dulled with pain. He hadn’t realized how much she loved the young Roman. A twinge of jealousy twisted his insides, but he immediately felt ashamed of himself. What right had he to complain when he withheld his own love from her?

  Even now, she leaned against the masthead, huddled in her fur blanket, staring morosely out to sea. Decimus had been unable to reach her with his comfort. He didn’t know what else to do.

  He watched as Galla approached her, dropping to a squatting position. Decimus could see the soldier talking, but Chara continued to stare ahead. Finally something Galla said seemed to penetrate the fog of her grief. Turning her face to him, she shook her head at whatever he had said. They talked for some time before Galla reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand, then rose to his feet.

  Decimus watched as Galla crossed the deck, drawing up beside him. His eyes went beyond the Roman to where Chara sat, a look of peace on her face for the first time in days.

  “What did you say to her?”

  Galla shrugged. “I merely reminded her that Trophimus did exactly what the Lord had done for us. He gave his life for someone he loved.” His eyes went over Decimus before he turned, leaning on the bulwark. “I also reminded her that she was trying to do the same thing. I asked her if she would have wanted you to feel guilty if she had died trying to help you.”

  “She very well could have!” Decimus choked, his heart thudding at the possibility.

  “But she didn’t. Have you told her that you love her?”

  Decimus shook his head, not bothering to deny it. “No. There doesn’t seem to be a right time.”

  “There almost wasn’t any time,” Galla told him roughly. “What if she had been washed overboard?”

  Decimus felt his heart sink. Even the thought of it nearly drove him mad.

  Galla squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t wait too long, my friend. There may never be a right time, but there also could very well be no time.”

  Decimus watched him walk away, making his way toward the captain. His eyes went back to Chara. She was sitting there, trying to soak in what little sunshine she could, her eyes closed, her head thrown back. Decimus clutched the bulwark tighter. He stood a long time thus. Sighing, he turned and went below.

  Chara opened her eyes and watched Decimus leave, her heart heavy within her. If only she could believe Galla when he told her that Decimus loved her. But Decimus, though he was gentle and kind, was definitely not loving. He had comforted her as he would have comforted a child.

  She sighed, watching the gulls flying overhead. A good omen, the sailors said. But not for Trophimus. Galla was right, she knew. Trophimus wouldn’t have wanted her to feel guilty at his loss, but still it was hard.

  Trophimus had given his life for her, and Jesus had, too. If she felt guilty because of Trophimus, how much more should she feel guilty because of her Lord? Jesus would have died for her had she been the only human being on earth. What had He done to deserve to die? The same as Trophimus. He loved her more than His own life.

  Trophimus would forgive her, just as her Lord had. Jesus didn’t want her to feel guilty; He wanted her to feel loved. She bowed her head, giving her burden over to her Master.

  ❧

  The remainder of their voyage was uneventful. The sea’s peaceful serenity mirrored Chara’s. Once she had given her guilt over to God, peace had come.

  The sun shone weakly on the surface of the water, giving it a glassy appearance. Chara watched as schools of fish rose to the surface, flying along through the water as though racing the big ship. She laughed aloud at the thought, wishing them well in their endeavor.

  Decimus, coming upon her at that moment, smiled at her laughter. It seemed as if it had been such a long time since he had heard it. He leaned against the bulwark, looking at her seriously. “It’s good to hear you laugh.”

  She didn’t turn to him but seemed to be contemplating something in the distance. “You know, the farther we get from Rome, the lighter my heart feels.”

  Decimus frowned. The closer they got to Britannia, the more uneasy he became. “Are we ever truly free from Rome?” He didn’t really expect an answer.

  When she turned to him, the look in her eyes sent chills racing down his spine. Her look was distant, as though seeing into the future. “I feel like we are on the edge of destiny, and that you and I will have a part in changing that destiny.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We have the opportunity to preach the Word to a people who have never heard it before,” she mused. “At least not that we know of.”

  Biting his lip, Decimus took her hands into his. Hers were like ice, and he began to absently rub them between his own. “That may be a whole lot more dangerous than anything we have experienced thus far.”

  “Perhaps,” she answered softly. “But you can only lose your life once. Jesus died for me; I will gladly do the same for Him.”

  Decimus pushed back from the bulwark. He didn’t want to frighten her, but Britannia was far from the civilization she knew. Its people still lived in tribes, and from the accounts he had heard, they were far fiercer than anything the Romans had introduced. He knew that the wilds of Gaul were very similar to Britannia—but Chara had lived in a city, surrounded by civilization. She had never been exposed to the Druids’ religion, and he wondered if she would be able to even comprehend the cruelty of human sacrifice.

  Remembering the blood-soaked sands in the arenas of Rome, he decided that, on second thought, perhaps the Britons and Romans were more alike than he had at first thought. At least the Britons were fighting for their lives, their homes. They didn’t kill on a whim. Not from what he remembered, which honestly was not much. But Chara was strong, he knew, stronger than he sometimes thought; certainly her faith in God was even sturdier than his own, and with that behind her, perhaps she would be able to withstand anything.

  Chara smiled, reaching up a hand and gently cupping his cheek. “You needn’t fear for me, Decimus. And no matter what happens, I wish to be right by your side.”

  Decimus shook his head, an answering smile appearing on his face. “Galla might have something to say about that.”

  “Galla is not my husband, nor is he my master. Only you are both.”

  “No, my love, I am not your master. You and I share the same Master.” He pulled her into his arms, enfolding her in his warm embrace. “We will serve Him together, come what may.”

  They stood watching as the sun began to dip below the horizon. Before long, the moon replaced the sun’s light with that of its own bright orb, its reflection sending a shimmering path across the water to the ship.

  Chara wanted the moment to last forever, but eventually the cold drove them inside. Decimus helped her prepare a pallet as far from the others as possible. Chara lay down, one eyebrow winging upward as Decimus turned to leave.

  “Are you not coming to bed?”

  Decimus shook his head. “No. Galla and I have much to discuss. According to the captain, we should reach the shores of Britannia by morning.”

  “What do you think we’ll find there?”

  He would have reassured her if he could. The problem was, he couldn’t. He had no idea how Galla would extricate them from the company they seemed to find themselves in. Decimus had no desire to spend any more time with Caltupa than was absolutely necessary.

  “I guess we’ll find out when we get there.”

  Decimus crossed to where Galla awaited him. They seated themselves far away from the others, lowering their voices so as not to be heard.

  “We should reach the southern coast of Britann
ia tomorrow,” Galla told Decimus. “Caltupa will probably tell me what orders he received when we reach there. As of yet, I have no idea what has been planned. Caltupa has been very close-mouthed. I assume his orders were to wait until we reached Britannia and he heard the reports from Rome’s spies.”

  Decimus leaned back against the rough planks of the ship. “Chara certainly can’t march into Britannia with your troops. What can we do?”

  Galla expelled his breath slowly. “I don’t know. I hadn’t planned on having Roman company on this trip.”

  “What will you do if your orders are to lead Caltupa and his men against the Britons?”

  Galla shook his head. “Let’s not borrow trouble. I don’t think that will happen.”

  “What if it turns into a full-scale war?” The thought had Decimus’s stomach roiling. How could the people of Britannia withstand another siege by the Roman war machine? Soldiers who had fought here told humorous stories of farmers who went to battle against the seasoned Roman troops with nothing but long, slashing swords and no armor. They depended upon their speed to try and outmaneuver the Roman troops. Many men had died, impaled by Roman javelins.

  Galla’s voice dropped even lower. “My concern is not whether I will be forced to go into battle with the troops. I am in a dilemma as to what to do about you and Chara.”

  Decimus glanced at his wife curled against the ship’s timber. Her chest rose and fell softly, assuring him that she was fast asleep. “She’s been through a lot,” he told Galla softly.

  Nodding, Galla got to his feet. “And now, my friend, it is time for us to sleep as well, for on the morrow I believe we will have a lot more to go through.” Reaching down, Galla helped Decimus to his feet. “I take it you still have not found the right time?”

  Irritated, Decimus shook his head. Galla watched him a full minute before turning and without a word striding to his sleeping mat in the corner.

  Decimus crawled beneath the fur with Chara, for the first time aware that his teeth were chattering. In her sleep, Chara turned and curled herself against him. Slowly his teeth stopped chattering. As warmth spread through him, he closed his eyes and began to pray. His petitions were short and to the point. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.