by Carol Ashby
Brutus rested the blade in his palm. His brow furrowed as he fingered the edge. “I hope they’ll be needed. My wife has lost three babies. The last time, the physician said the next pregnancy might kill her…but she’s determined to give me a son. She kept begging to try again…” He shrugged.
Brutus’s signature smiling frown returned. “Fortuna has smiled on you, Drusus, giving you three fine sons and a daughter. This will be Camilla’s last baby. If she births a daughter, I might want to adopt Tertius. My estates and business ventures are worth more than the share he’ll inherit from you. I’ll need a fine young man to be paterfamilias after me.”
Lucius faked a smile. “That would be a tempting offer for many, but even a fourth of my fortune is many times what a man needs to remain senatorial. Besides, Tertius is the best of my sons. If I did decide to help a childless friend, it would be Marcus or Lucius I’d give to him.”
Brutus’s chuckle was more of a snort. “I’d be proud to claim Lucius as my own, even if I’m not old enough to have fathered him. I’ve seen only one man who’s his equal. He tracked his kidnapped friend from Germania to Roma after I bought the German in Octodurus. Crassus was barely taller than my chin, but he fought me for the chance to rescue his giant friend from the arena.” The smiling frown returned. “But Tertius should grow into as good a man as his oldest brother.”
Brutus flexed his wrist, tracing a Greek sigma with the gladius’s tip. “I have men fighting this afternoon. Is there something you need this morning?”
“I have a new steward, so I need some information about Malleolus’s last dealings with you.”
Speaking the old man’s name fanned his irritation, but Lucius forced his voice to sound calm. “He retired from my service and left Rome. Did he hire your men as escorts for his move?”
“No. The last time I saw him was a month or so ago. He hired four gladiators to accompany a cart to your eastern estate, but that was only for a few hours.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “My condolences on his retirement. His reputation for making money earned you the envy of many.”
Lucius kept his jaw from clenching. “I’ve already noticed his absence.” He forced a smile. “In time, Paullus will be an adequate replacement, but for now, I must attend to some things myself. I need to hire two gladiators for a trip to Thracia and back. I might need a third man if your fighters aren’t smart enough to handle a challenging situation.”
Brutus placed one arm across his stomach and propped his elbow on it before resting the flat side of the sword on his shoulder. “That should be possible. Which men I would provide for that will depend on what you need them for.”
“My former wife has kidnapped my daughter. I suspect Cornelia has taken her to Thracia. My brother and sister live there and would help her find a place where she can hide Drusilla from me. I’ll need reliable men who are smart enough to see through any tricks Cornelia might pull.”
Brutus’s head tipped. “Why did she take Drusilla?”
Lucius stiffened. “We had a disagreement over her betrothal. Cornelia is one of those who thinks she’s as smart as any man and should have her say in things that aren’t her business.”
“Not her business? Most mothers think that is their business. Who were you going to betroth her to?”
“Marcus Corvinus’s son.”
“Gaius? I’ve been training him as long as I’ve been training Tertius. No mother would object to him.” Brutus’s cocked eyebrow demanded more.
“His younger brother. Drusilla’s only ten.”
“Gnaeus? You can’t be serious. Gaius has told me too many stories. That boy is crazy.”
Lucius couldn’t stop the frown. “She’s my daughter, and I have the right to betroth her to whomever I see fit.”
Brutus’s eyes narrowed. “You do. But as paterfamilias, you should be guardian of your family and protector of your daughter. How could any father even consider giving her to a boy like that? If I had a daughter, I’d sooner let her play with a tiger than give her to someone like Gnaeus.”
Brutus’s jaw clenched, and he swung his blade toward the young gladiator. His man barely caught the slashing gladius before it cut into his side. “Stay alert.”
His gaze locked on Lucius. “I’ll have no part in the betrayal of all a father should be.”
He struck at his man again, and his gladiator caught the sword sooner. “Better.”
Brutus wrapped his hand around the blade. He stared at it as he slid his thumb along the dulled edge. “Children are a gift from the gods. No friendship is worth letting yours be killed.”
He focused on Lucius, and his eyes chilled. “You have every right to recover your daughter.” A smiling frown curved his lips. “But I hope you fail in the attempt. I won’t be party to dragging a girl back from safety with her mother to certain harm, maybe even death.”
Lucius crossed his arms. “Men say you’ll rent gladiators to anyone for any purpose, no questions asked. It’s not your place to deny my rights as paterfamilias. This will do your reputation no good.”
A laugh rumbled in Brutus’s chest. “You think you can threaten me? My estates and other businesses increase my wealth daily, and my gladiators are in great demand. You might be richer, and you have some friends of importance. But I have the friendship and respect of men greater than you.”
Brutus placed the point of his sword against Lucius’s breastbone and pressed. Lucius’s heart galloped as he took a step back.
“Nothing you say will make me betray my own code of honor.” Brutus lowered the sword and handed it to his gladiator. “It’s time to drop this before one of us says or does something he’ll regret.” The smiling frown returned, but Brutus’s eyes remained cool. “Come soon and watch Tertius spar. You’ll be impressed by his improvement. I have men in the bouts this afternoon. I need to clean up before I go, so you must excuse me. Vale, Drusus.”
He turned and walked down the narrow passage that opened by the armor room.
Lucius touched his chest where the blade had rested. He blew out a breath through pursed lips. Would any men who mattered more than Brutus share his opinion?
His jaw clenched. So what if they did? Roman law gave him the right, and Cornelia had earned whatever might happen.
Brutus wasn’t the only man with gladiators for hire, and the others wouldn’t question his choice as paterfamilias. Brutus’s word could be trusted that he hadn’t helped Malleolus spirit Drusilla away, but had another ludus provided guards? Paullus could ask at the others and then pick the right one to provide the men who would hunt for the pair of them.
Drusilla was his, and Cornelia would lose the contest over their daughter’s fate.
Chapter 33: Worship with the Captain
Anthusa was brushing her hair when Cornelia heard the quiet knocking.
“Come in.”
Miriam pushed the door open and stepped halfway into the room. “Tomorrow is Sunday, and we’ll be going to Philip’s early for worship. Our whole household goes, but I’ll have something left in the kitchen for your breakfast and lunch. Of course, if you want, you’re very welcome to come with us.”
Cornelia stroked her jaw. “We listened to Hector three times on his ship, and I found what he said very intriguing. I would like to learn more.” She pressed her lips together. “I do have a concern, though. Are there any Romans? More to the point, are they equestrians or senators?”
Miriam nodded. “There are some, and a few do wear the purple-striped tunics.”
Cornelia shook her head. “I’m reluctant to go where someone might recognize me and let Lucius know I’m in Thracia. Until I know Marcus Corvinus has betrothed his son to some other poor girl, I don’t want to risk any word about me getting back to Lucius.”
“I’m sure they’d keep your secret if they knew they should.”
“Perhaps, but if I don’t know them myself, I can’t be sure. We won’t go.”
“I’ll say good
night then. We may be gone before you get up, but we’ll be back some time after lunch. All the worshippers share a meal before we go home.”
“Good night, Miriam. I hope you enjoy your worship as much as Hector did onboard.”
Miriam flashed a smile at her. “I always do.” She turned and limped down the balcony toward her bedchamber.
Cornelia walked to the door and watched until she entered her room. She heard Titus’s voice as he welcomed the woman he loved for their night together.
A deep sigh escaped. It would have been so nice to go with them, but Drusilla’s safety was more important than anything she might enjoy. It was better to stay home.
Drusilla woke in the gray dawn when she heard Vania rising.
“Vania?” Her whisper sounded like a shout in the quiet room.
“Yes?” Vania’s whisper was softer.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting ready to go to Uncle Philip’s for worship.”
“Oh. I didn’t think about it being Sunday.” Drusilla paused. “Is Captain Hector going to be there?”
“I think so. When his ship is here, he’s always there.” Vania tiptoed to the door and opened it slowly. Her finger touched her lips before she whispered. “Mother told me not to make any noise to wake you or Aunt Cornelia.”
Drusilla’s own finger touched her lips. “I won’t tell her.”
Vania flashed a smile before she slipped out the door and pulled it closed.
Drusilla pulled the sheets up around her chin. Captain would be at their worship. She’d loved listening to him read and teach on the ship. He’d looked so pleased when he saw how much she liked it. She knew the way to Aunt Claudia’s house. She could get there herself to be with Captain and hear everything. Aunt Miriam had told Vania not to wake her, but she was already awake, so there was no reason not to go.
Drusilla slid off her bed and picked out a clean tunic from her trunk. After running a comb through her hair a few times, she was ready.
She pulled the door open a crack and peeked out. No sign of anyone moving on the balcony. She tiptoed along the balcony and down the stairs. When she peaked into the kitchen, a tray of bread, cheese, and fruit sat on the table, covered with a cloth. Everyone seemed to have left already, but they couldn’t be too far ahead.
She hurried to the courtyard door that fronted the street, but it was barred and locked. Then she trotted back to the kitchen and passed into the garden. When she reached the carriage gate, it was locked, too. But straw was piled by the wall, and the stack was tall enough that she could stand on it and reach the top. She pulled herself up, swung her legs over, and dropped to the ground outside.
Far up the street, Aunt Miriam limped beside Uncle Titus, holding Vania’s hand. Drusilla couldn’t catch up before they reached Uncle Philip’s house, but she wouldn’t be far behind.
She lifted her tunic so it wouldn’t shorten her stride and ran up the street.
Hector was talking with Philip when something small and warm slipped into his hand as it hung at his side. His head snapped back when he glanced down.
“Drusilla. What are you doing here?” He scanned the gathering. “Is your mother here, too?”
“No, Captain. I came so I could hear more about Jesus. Can I sit with you?”
“Of course.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and returned to his conversation with Philip.
The young men talking with Marcario split up to join their families for the worship. His eyebrows popped up when he saw his father’s arm wrapped around the shoulder of a brown-haired girl he’d never seen before. Who was this, and why did his father’s whole face soften when he glanced down at her?
A smile spread across his face. The daughter of Cornelia Scipia. God had answered all his prayers for his father’s broken heart with a little girl.
He strolled over to Philip and his father. Philip acknowledged his arrival with a smile and a nod.
“Time for me to ask God’s guidance before we begin. Hector. Marcario.” He turned and walked to the stand where a gospel codex waited.
Marcario grinned at his father. “I see we have company today.”
Hector placed his hands on Drusilla’s shoulders. “We do. This is Drusilla. I just brought her from Rome.”
Marcario bent over to rest his hands on his knees, putting his eyes level with Drusilla’s. “Welcome, Drusilla. I’m Marcario. Hector is my father. I hope you’ll sit with us while we worship. Do you already belong to Jesus?”
Drusilla’s brow furrowed. “Belong to Jesus? I’m not sure what you mean, but Captain talked about Jesus on the ship. I liked everything he said.”
Hector rested his hand on her hair, and she turned her face up to his. “Philip will tell you much more, and it will be even better than what you heard from me. Let’s sit down. Worship is about to start.”
The three of them settled on a bench. Marcario glanced at the little girl resting her head against his father’s shoulder. Less than five weeks together on a ship, and she loved his father already. His glance shifted to his father’s face. That love flowed both ways.
As Calamus strummed the lyre and the first song began, Marcario lifted his heart in thanksgiving. The dark cloud smothering his father was gone. God could heal anyone’s heart with love.
Hector reveled in the softness of the small hand holding his and the warmth of her head resting against his shoulder as Philip taught. Drusilla sitting next to him was almost like having Charissa beside him again. He tightened his jaw to keep his eyes dry, but it wasn’t only sadness trying to moisten them. Charissa was gone forever from this world, but she was with Jesus. Someday he would join her and Damara, but for now, his heart warmed with the pleasure of loving the precious child beside him.
Thank you, Father, for brining Drusilla for me to love. Thank you for Cornelia, that she welcomes me so I can spend time with her daughter…and with her.
It was good that Cornelia wanted him to visit Drusilla. It would be even better if she wanted those visits for her own pleasure as well.
Chapter 34: Freed Again
Malleolus sat beside Claudia, his heart pounding. During his long life, he’d faced many turning points. As a youth, he’d been bought to serve as Publius’s manservant. The trust that grew during their time with the legion made him steward when Publius became paterfamilias. Trust became friendship and led to freedom. The day the praetor tapped him with the rod and pronounced him Publius Claudius Malleolus, freedman, had seemed the pinnacle of his life.
Then the heartbreak of the death of his best friend was followed by years of serving the worthless son who’d betrayed his father for power and wealth. Malleolus had borne that with patience for the sake of Publius’s grandchildren. And thanks to Lucius’s failure as a father, he’d come to Claudia to end his days with those he loved.
But everything paled in comparison to the new life he was prepared to embrace with every fiber of his being. The bondage of the past lay behind him, and he was ready to be freed a second time.
Philip picked up a codex and held it close to his chest. Then he closed his eye and lifted it above his head.
“Dear Father, may my words be inspired by the Holy Spirit and bring honor to You and to my Lord Jesus.”
Malleolus tried to focus on what Philip was reading and the explanation that followed, but his mind kept racing forward to what lay ahead.
At last, Philip turned toward Malleolus, and pure delight flooded Philip’s face. “And now, brothers and sisters, I want to share what our Lord Jesus said to His disciples as they gathered with Him privately, what He still says to us.
“‘If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it. What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, and yet lose or forfeit his very self? If anyone is ashamed of me and my words, the Son of Man will be ashamed of
him when he comes in his glory and in the glory of the Father and of the holy angels. I tell you the truth, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the kingdom of God.’”
Philip closed the codex and returned it to the stand. “Jesus told us that no one can come to Him except when the Father calls Him. There is one among us who has heard that call, and today, in this gathering, he wants to proclaim his answer.”
He offered his hands, and Malleolus took them before lowering himself to his knees.
Then Philip’s hands moved to his shoulders. “In the presence of all gathered here, tell our Lord your decision to love and serve Him, and receive the Holy Spirit as He promised.”
A wistful smile curved Malleolus’s mouth. “Eight years ago, my best friend decided Jesus was the Son of God and his savior. He wanted to tell me why he made that decision, but I didn’t want to listen.”
He drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “I saw he was disappointed, but he said that was fine, that we could talk about it later. But in less than a month, he was dead, betrayed by his oldest son and killed in the Flavian Amphitheater because he refused to deny his Lord and offer incense to Caesar. Since that day, I’ve often wished I’d listened when I had the chance.”
Malleolus looked at Hector with Drusilla snuggled against his side, and his smile grew. “When I found myself on a ship bound for Perinthus with Publius’s granddaughter and daughter-in-law, the chance I thought I’d lost forever came. Hector became the second Christian I knew well enough to ask, and he began to answer my questions on that voyage.”
His gaze swept the smiling faces before him. “I have decided Publius was right in his beliefs. He convinced me years ago that the God of Israel was real, not just the hero of stories created by men. And being real, God alone decides what it takes to earn His favor. Publius kept telling me anything less than perfection was not enough. But no man could ever be perfect. It seemed hopeless. Then, when he told me Jesus had chosen to be the sacrifice that let God look on him as being perfect when he wasn’t and never could be, it seemed too good to be true.