True Freedom

by Carol Ashby

  If he’d learned anything in the last month, it was that truth might be free, but it had the highest value. And honor was not just a matter of what others thought of him. It should define him as a man.

  The salutation was in progress, and it would be better if the clients didn’t hear Father yelling at him. So he told Father’s secretary that he’d be in the library until the clients left and then he’d like to speak with Father before he went out.

  He’d barely unrolled a scroll of Tacitus when Gallio entered. “Your father wants to speak with you in his private office.”

  Aulus sucked a breath through his teeth. For Father to suspend the salutation, to send Gallio, not his secretary, for him…that did not bode well. But he squared his shoulders and marched behind Gallio to face the man who both loved and scared him.

  Father was sitting at his desk, tapping a wax tablet with a stylus. “You wanted to speak with me.”

  “Yes, Father.” Time to confess, but how to start?

  Father pointed at the chair across the desk from him. “Well, sit and speak.” He set down the stylus and steepled his fingers.

  Aulus perched on the edge of the seat, his back straight. “I’ve done two things while you were gone that I shouldn’t have.”

  Father was like a marble statue, mouth straight, eyes unreadable.

  “I lost 10,000 denarii gambling with Quintus Sabinus’s son. I didn’t want you to know I’d been gambling with bets that high when you’d told me not to.” He took a deep breath to slow his racing heart. “So I planned to fake Julia’s kidnapping and use the ransom to pay the debt without you ever knowing.”

  Father’s eyes bored into him, but his flinty expression remained unchanged.

  “But something went wrong. I got the money and paid the debt. But the old slave who was supposed to get her home after I had the money ended up dead. The man hired to hold the two of them said one of her litter slaves overpowered him and took her. He said he trailed them but lost them in Subura. But he vanished before telling me this. I started hunting for him and Julia. I found him, but I can’t find a trace of her. I don’t know if she’s already dead or suffering somewhere as a slave.”

  He hung his head. “Because I decided to lie to you, I’ve probably killed my sister.”

  “Is that all?”

  Aulus rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that enough? I shouldn’t have gambled. But after I did, I should have told Gallio and had him pay the debt. You would rightly have been furious with me, but Julia would still be safe here with us.”

  Aulus stared at his feet and waited for his father’s explosion.

  Instead, silence coiled around him like a snake, squeezing tighter and tighter until he could scarcely breathe.

  He lifted his eyes enough to look at his father. He still sat with steepled fingers, watching him.

  Then Father picked up the stylus and rolled it between his fingers. “When you say ‘I’, do you really mean ‘we’? Was Marcus involved? Was this really his plan?”

  “Yes, but it’s my fault that we actually did it. It started as a joke about faking my kidnapping to get the ransom, and then when his father wouldn’t give him the money, it turned into kidnapping Julia.”

  Aulus rubbed the back of his neck. “But you shouldn’t blame him. It’s not another man’s fault when I choose to do something I know is wrong. Two men of honor have convinced me of that, and I take full responsibility.”

  “These men of honor, who are they and how much do they know?”

  “Antonius Brutus and Africanus. They know everything.”

  “Africanus? His bodyguard?”

  “Yes. Brutus told him to go everywhere with us and do what he could to help. He’s as honorable as his master.”

  “Will they tell anyone what they know?”

  “No. Brutus told me the first day that he would come with me to tell you privately, but a man shouldn’t try to hide from facing what he’s done.”

  Father closed his eyes and rubbed his face. Then he crossed his arms and stared at Aulus.

  Aulus bowed his head and waited for the angry condemnation he deserved. When none came, he raised his eyes to his father’s face.

  “Well, Aulus, had you not come to confess like this, I would be saying something very different to you. But as you’ve owned up to everything you did, thinking I didn’t already know…”

  Father rubbed his lower lip. “What I am about to tell you is a family secret. You are never to tell Marcus Drusus or anyone else. Your sister’s life and maybe your own depend upon it. Swear your silence in this matter.”

  Aulus took a deep breath. “I swear.”

  “The slave you thought kidnapped her actually saved her from the kidnappers. He’s been protecting her while they waited for me to return. Protecting her from you because he heard you and Marcus talking.”

  “So you already knew everything I just told you?” Aulus slumped back in the chair.

  “Yes, but it’s good you told me yourself. Because of your honesty, I will tell you something.”

  Aulus straightened, waiting for the secret he could never tell.

  “Your sister is alive.”

  Aulus closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of thanksgiving.

  “But she has asked me to let everyone continue to think she’s dead.”

  Aulus’s eyes popped open. “But why?”

  “She wants to marry the man who rescued her. I’ve freed him, but Julia Secunda, alive, couldn’t marry a freedman. Dead, she can. And she wanted me to tell you she forgives you. She doesn’t want you to suffer for your foolish choice. She’s actually glad you did what you did because she expects a happier life with him than with us.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “Perhaps. I’m setting up her future husband as my agent to train horses.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “You’ve given your black stallion to them as a wedding present.”

  Aulus smile drifted toward a grin. “Good. I was never going to be able to ride him. He’s too much horse for me.”

  His father rose and walked around the desk to rest his hand on Aulus’s shoulder. “For the boy you were when you bought him, that’s true. For the man I see before me now…I expect you’ll do many things that will surprise us both.”

  Gaius’s farm, Day 57

  Leander sat with Calantha on the bench under Gaius’s carob tree. Tomorrow would be their wedding day, and even the crickets were singing for joy.

  The broken clouds that hugged the western horizon blazed orange and red before fading toward gray.

  He wrapped his left arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled in. Then she reached up and stroked his stubbled cheek. “I like my lions without fur. Maybe I’ll help you shave tomorrow before everyone comes.”

  “Whatever you want is fine with me.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I love sunsets. They mark the end of one day, and during the night, God prepares us for a whole new day. I went through my night before I came to know you, before I knew Jesus and the peace He gives.” She stroked his cheek once more before kissing it. “I love you, Leander. You’re my whole new day.”

  She slipped her arms around him, and the scent of roses in her hair made him smile.

  And as he held Calantha close, feeling her heart beat in time with his own, Leander knew the words of Apostle Paul were true. Who would have thought, as he lay bleeding in the dark, that in only a month the God he loved would give him freedom and a family and a future with the woman he’d been willing to die for? All things did work together for good for those who loved God.

  FINIS

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  More Light in the Empire

  Dangerous times, difficult friendships, lives transformed by forgiveness and love

  Honor Bound is the seventh volume in the Light in the Empire series, which follows the interconnected lives of four Roman families during the reigns of Trajan and Hadrian. Each can be read stand-alone. The eight novels of the series will take you around the Empire, from Germania and Britannia to Thracia, Dacia, and Judaea and, of course, to Rome itself.

  Brutus and Africanus will return in Honor Bound in AD 122, four years after True Freedom

  For a preview of the opening chapter of the seventh volume in the series,

  coming in November 2019, read on!

  Honor Bound

  When the honorable path isn’t clear, how do you find your way?

  Marcus Brutus owns estates, ships, and gladiator schools that increase his fortune daily, but his greatest treasures are his honor and his wife. When she reveals her faith in Jesus before dying after the birth of their son, he’s consumed by hatred for the unnamed Christian woman who led his beloved to abandon the Roman gods, making him lose her in this life and the next.

  For fifteen years, Licinia’s father hid her Christian faith. But now her father is dead, and a ruthless political enemy is hunting for anything to destroy her brother’s career. When she becomes the target, her brother sends her to their estate in Germania. But is that far enough to protect her from an evil man who will stop at nothing?

  When a carriage accident leaves Brutus injured and his best friend near death after rescuing Brutus’s son, Licinia welcomes and cares for them. But her strange habits and his friend’s unexpected recovery make Brutus suspect she’s the Christian who corrupted his wife. When her brother's enemies come for her, does honor require him to protect her or turn her over as an enemy of Rome? And when Licinia’s heart is drawn toward the pagan man who makes money off death, can she reconcile her growing affection with her love for Christ?

  Sneak peek at Honor Bound

  Chapter 1: Goodbyes

  Rome, Fall of AD 122

  The ring of steel on steel echoed across the practice arena of the Ludus Bruti, Marcus Brutus’s gladiator school in central Roma.

  When Brutus lowered his gladius and backed away from his favorite sparring partner, he wiped some sweat from his forehead with his forearm. “A good match, Africanus, but were you holding back today?”

  The muscled, curly haired Nubian who was four inches taller than Brutus raised his eyebrows. “Holding back, Master Brutus?” He pressed his lips together to stop a guilty smile. “Don’t you always want our best efforts, practice or combat?”

  “So, the answer is yes.”

  Africanus shrugged. “You seemed tired today.”

  “I couldn’t get to sleep, so I read most of the night. Camilla’s time draws near.”

  “I found waiting for my first hard. By the third, it becomes easier.”

  “Your wife is strong and healthy. Camilla…” He chewed his lip. “The third try almost killed her.”

  “But all has gone well this time. Not like the others.”

  Brutus pulled a deep breath and blew it out. “True, but I’ll have no peace until she hands me the baby and calls me ‘Father.’ I’ll relax then, not before.”

  The rapid slaps of sandals drew Brutus’s eyes to the hallway beside the armor room. His jaw clenched when one of the slaves from his villa trotted onto the arena sand.

  “Stabularius. Why are you here?” His whole body tensed, fearing the answer.

  “The mistress’s labor started a few hours ago, master.”

  “A few hours? Why didn’t someone come for me immediately?”

  “Mistress Camilla said you’d be home soon enough anyway, but then the physician decided you should come as soon as possible…because of the mistress’s problems in the past.”

  Brutus handed his gladius to Africanus. “Bring my stallion back to the villa.”

  He trotted down the hall to his office to snatch his tunic and belt. He pulled the tunic over his head as he strode toward the stable yard. He was still fastening his belt when he entered it.

  The horse Stabularius had ridden from the villa lifted its head from the trough, water dripping from its muzzle. Brutus scooped up the reins, grabbed a handful of mane, and hurled himself onto its back.

  “Open the gate.”

  The stable slave scurried to obey and held it open as Brutus trotted through.

  Labor took many hours, and the first baby was the slowest to come. But the physician had said as soon as possible, and fear gnawed at him. What if as soon as possible wasn’t soon enough?

  Africanus sucked air between his teeth as Brutus trotted down the hallway. Then his gaze shifted to Stabularius.

  “Is the physician overcautious, or is something wrong?”

  The villa stable slave shrugged. “I don’t know. They only told me to get here quickly.”

  “Go saddle Master Brutus’s stallion and my horse as well. I’ll ride back with you.”

  Stabularius nodded and disappeared into the hallway.

  Africanus turned toward the red-haired gladiator who’d been wielding a wooden practice sword against one of the heavy wooden stakes around the edge of the arena.

  “Rufus.”

  Rufus turned, eyebrows raised.

  “Go tell my wife I’m going out to the villa. I doubt I’ll be home for dinner.”

  Rufus nodded. “Fortuna smiled on you, giving you such a good cook for a wife.”

  Any other time, Rufus’s comment would have drawn a smile. “Tell her I want you to eat what she’s prepared for me.”

  Africanus carried the steel gladii into the armor room and placed them in the rack. Then he selected two wooden ones that were used for practice by the gladiator slaves. Brutus would want to spar to relieve the tension as he waited.

  They usually sparred with metal swords, but he’d rather not fight the master, even with dull-edged steel, when Brutus was distracted. He ran his hand down the weighted wooden blade. Wooden swords should be safe enough.

  If the mistress did not survive the delivery and the master needed to fight in anger and grief, he’d rather not die as well.

  It had been several hours. Brutus paced in the peristyle, staring often at her closed door on the balcony above. Africanus sat on a chair, tipped on its back legs, with the wooden swords across his lap.

  Her every cry cut like a sharpened sword nicking him when his timing was off when sparring.

  Then her scream blended with another sound, higher pitched and angry. A piercing, lusty wail.

  Their child.

  He slapped Africanus’s shoulder as a grin split his face. Two steps at a time, he bounded up the stairs and trotted down the balcony to her door.

  His palm pushed against it…and it didn’t budge.

  Why latched?

  He knocked softly, but it didn’t open. Several harder raps with his knuckles, but still it remained closed.

  His fist pounded on the carved door panel. “Open this door. Now!”

  A slow, scratching sound as the bolt was drawn back, then Camilla’s maid, Capria, opened the door and stepped behind it.

  Brutus stood in the doorway, taking in the vision of Camilla cuddling a tiny bundle at her breast. Her hair was soaked with sweat, and she seemed pale, but he’d never seen her more beautiful.

  She tipped the baby to turn its face toward him. “See your father, Marcus?” Her lips brushed the baby’s cheek.

  Brutus strode across the room and sat on the bed beside her, grinning like a fool.

  “Reach out your arms. Hold our son.”

  He took the tiny bundle and gazed into their baby’s
eyes.

  Camilla lifted her hand to stroke his tiny cheek. “He has your eyes. Raise him to have your honor and courage, and he’ll be the finest man.”

  He grinned at her. “We’ll raise him to have your wisdom and humor, too.”

  His eyes locked on hers, and something changed. Their expression shifted from joyful to…wistful?

  She shifted in the bed. “Capria, take our son. Everyone, leave us.”

  Her maid stood before him, arms outstretched, and he transferred the precious bundle to her.

  Physician, maid, and two other slaves filed out of the room and closed the door.

  Brutus’s gut twisted. “Why did you do that?”

  “I have some things to tell you that only you should hear.”

  He shifted on the bed to face her, resting his knee against her side and taking her hand in his. “What?”

  “The bleeding isn’t going to stop.”

  “You don’t know that. It stopped last time. Why not―”

  Her fingers rested on his lips, silencing him.

  “I just know. I want you to promise to bury me by the olive grove, where we watch the sunset. Don’t cremate me, and don’t have the usual Roman burial ceremony.” She drew a deep breath. “I’m a Christian, and I want to be buried like one.”

  He stared at her as his whole world crumbled. A Christian? It couldn’t be. That would bar her forever from the Elysian Fields, the place of reunion in the afterlife, reserved for the good and pious. To lose her now would rip his heart out, but to never see her again?