by Carol Ashby
“She could give me more of that vile-tasting sleeping potion from last night.” Decimus’s nose scrunched at the thought.
“Vile―that’s the right word for it. It tastes so bad I’m almost afraid to tell her when I’ve hurt myself. The pain has to be almost unbearable to be worse than drinking that tea.”
Decimus’s mouth curved as an image formed of Galen dodging a medicine cup that Valeria held. The image swirled away, and his smile faded when he could put no faces on their bodies.
Galen had helped Decimus into one of Gaius’s tunics by the time Valeria returned.
She rapped on the doorframe. “Are you ready for me to come in?”
Galen’s response was immediate. “I’ll say yes, because I’m ready for breakfast.”
The left side of Decimus’s mouth twitched. Galen had a quick answer to every question. The boy’s running conversation and sense of humor would be a welcome source of entertainment while his wounds were healing.
Hopefully, his sight would return more quickly than it did for that man with the horse. He was already tired of being blind.
Decimus cocked his head when the ladder rung creaked softly. Rhoda must be descending from the loft. What would the third member of the family be like, the one who’d rescued his codices and scrolls and was so fond of his horse?
The soft padding sound of her footsteps drew closer. The sweet little-girl voice was no surprise when she spoke.
“I’m so glad you’re feeling better this morning. We’ve all been praying for you.”
He stopped his eyebrow before it rose. How should he respond to that statement? He would rather not think about them being Christians because he found himself already liking Valeria and Galen.
He changed the subject. “Thank you for helping Astro. I hear from Galen that you’re taking very good care of him.”
“He didn’t want us to take you away, so he followed us. I’m glad we brought him home, too.”
Decimus just smiled. He didn’t know what else to say.
A small hand rested on his arm. “I’ll be right back with a surprise for you.”
Her scampering footsteps headed out the door.
The tantalizing smell of breakfast filled his nostrils. He was as ready to eat as Galen. It had been almost two days since he last ate at the inn in the village. He’d enjoyed that last meal with his fellow officers―friends now lying dead somewhere in the forest because of his inattention. Again, in his mind he was back in the forest, knowing his men were dying, fighting for his own life and losing...
The door swung open, and Rhoda entered. She plopped down next to him on the bed. The sweet smell of strawberries came with her.
“I thought you’d like some more of our berries. You liked them so much in the village. Here.” She placed his hand in the bucket so he could feel them, cool and damp from being washed at the well.
A jolt of recognition struck him. The woman he’d bought berries from in the village, the one he’d stopped Fabius from raping, the one whose horse he’d spooked as he galloped out of town―she was Valeria. She and Rhoda must have been on their way home when they found him.
It had made no sense that she would stop and risk her life to help a total stranger. Normal people didn’t do that. At last he had a reasonable explanation for her trying to save him. She was repaying him for stopping Fabius. Risking her life to repay a debt of gratitude or honor―he would do that himself, even if the person was an enemy.
Now that he knew he’d seen her before, he tried to remember what she looked like. In his mind, he saw the striped blanket, the basket of red strawberries, the back of Fabius’s helmet and armor as he crushed the woman against his chest, but he couldn’t put a face on the struggling woman’s body. She’d just been some vendor in a village who was nothing special. He didn’t usually bother with such people, but this time…he suppressed a sigh. Why hadn’t he paid more attention?
He masked his thoughts, simply saying, “Thank you, Rhoda. I like your berries very much.”
Decimus enjoyed his breakfast more than he expected. Valeria had insisted that he remain in bed so his leg wouldn’t start bleeding again. Her porridge wasn’t the sumptuous banquet he usually ate while reclining, but it had been much better than the legion cooks prepared, well-seasoned with aromatic herbs and the perfect temperature.
Perhaps the best part had been the entertaining conversation between Galen and Rhoda. She was filled with stories about how Astro had done this and that, and Galen kept suggesting ridiculous things that she could try to train him to do when he was healed. There had been a lot of laughter. They’d even tried to make him feel part of the circle at the table by asking him for humorous Astro stories.
After breakfast, Galen went out to his farm chores, and Rhoda hurried off to take care of his horse.
He lay with his eyes closed, listening to Valeria move about the cottage as she cleaned up after breakfast. She was humming again. His head and leg both still hurt more than he’d ever thought possible, but listening to her gave him something other than the pain to focus on. He tried to keep track of where she was in the room, but he no longer worried that she might be doing something that put him in danger. She was repaying her debt of gratitude, and that meant he could trust her.
Stopping Fabius had been the right choice, even though he didn’t know why at the time. It might well be that Christians were enemies of Rome, but these were not his enemies. There probably was no safer place in the Empire than in this cottage with her family while he waited for his sight to return.
Chapter 12: A Wise Woman
Valeria chose a task that allowed her to stay in the cottage to watch over the tribune. He’d passed the turning point when he regained consciousness, but he could start bleeding again if he moved too much and tore loose the stitches in his leg. His eyes were closed, but his head moved to catch every sound, like someone on guard duty. He needed watching to make sure he didn’t do something he shouldn’t.
She was adding some length to Galen’s trousers today. She needed to do the same to a pair of Gaius’s pants so the tribune’s legs didn’t stick out at least four inches past the hem. The men of Germania didn’t wear tunics, and trousers that fit would make him less conspicuous.
He would soon be able to go outside using the crutch Galen was making. He needed to blend in should someone come to the cottage for help.
She glanced at him and tried not to sigh. Roman nose, Roman hair, Roman attitude of superiority. At least she could try to get him to blend in. Everything about him screamed “Roman officer.” There was nothing she could do about that if someone got too close, but from a distance there was some hope.
Decimus felt the mattress dip when she sat on the side of the bed. She placed her hand on his upper arm, so he opened his eyes. Everything was still blackness, but that wasn’t so disturbing now that he knew it wouldn’t last long.
“So, how are you feeling now?” A smile brightened her voice. “Are you ready for something for the pain?”
His head still hurt like someone was trying to break out with a hammer, and the pain in his leg was a brutal companion. But he never allowed weakness to show. To admit he couldn’t bear the pain would be weakness.
“Galen said it’s better to suffer than to drink a cup of your tea. Until I hurt more, I’m inclined to agree with him.”
Valeria saw the tightness around his eyes and mouth. He was fighting pain―a lot of it. Nothing hurt less, but how could she get him to drink the tea if he didn’t want it?
“Then I won’t make you suffer another cup right now, even though that means I must wait to find out whether it tastes worse hot or cold. I’m not willing to test it myself. There are limits to what I’ll do for my patients.”
His mouth curved up into a fleeting smile, but he said nothing. Stubborn man. She’d hoped joking with him would get him to volunteer to take a cup.
“I’m going to check your wounds. If they’re heal
ing properly, you’ll be able to get up and move about in a day or so. Today I’ll alter a pair of Gaius’s pants so you can go outside.”
Decimus lay still while she examined him. “Well?”
No sign of infection around either wound. God was being very merciful to this Roman. Now if He would only end his darkness.
“As good as I’ve seen. But you mustn’t try to do too much too soon, or you’ll have a setback.”
His satisfied smile brought a smile to her own lips. His failure to say he’d take it easy confirmed her suspicion that he needed close watching.
“I need you to straighten out your good leg so I can see how much I need to lengthen the pants.”
When Decimus complied and stretched to his full length, his foot hung over the edge. Valeria laid Gaius’s pants on top of him; they came barely halfway down his calf. He was fully seven inches taller than Gaius had been. She knew he was tall, but this much surprised her. She’d need more fabric than she’d planned.
Decimus could hear the smile in her voice every time she spoke to him. She had a quick wit, and it distracted him from the pain. Kind humor like hers and her brother’s was unusual in his experience. The humor of his friends usually had a cruel twist.
“Will I look more like a Greek merchant in these pants?”
“No. Today we’re going for the Germanic farmer look. That’s equally good for hiding a tribune from unfriendly eyes.”
He blanked his face to hide his surprise. So she knew he was a tribune. Well, she had seen him up close in the village when he bought her berries. A man of his height tended to stand out in people’s memories. He would have preferred she didn’t know, but she’d still brought him home so apparently she didn’t care.
Why she didn’t was a mystery. Surely a smart woman like her would know his high rank made him more dangerous to a Christian than any ordinary soldier would be. It was a good thing she was repaying him for stopping Fabius.
She was the first woman he’d ever known to repay a debt of gratitude owed to an enemy. Her sense of honor was more like a man’s than what he’d seen in any of the women he’d known. The rank of your enemy didn’t matter when it was a debt of honor, so he shouldn’t have to worry about her knowing he was a tribune. Still, it would be unwise to say anything that could reveal he was also the governor’s son. It was unclear how far her willingness to repay the debt might go.
She laid her hand on his forearm and gave it two pats. “Rest now. I’ll be over by the window sewing if you need anything.”
She was humming again as she moved away. He liked that habit. It made it easier for him to keep track of where she was.
Fatigue crashed down on him when she stopped talking. He closed his eyes, hoping for sleep to ease the pain, and he drifted off as he listened to her quiet melodies.
Decimus had just awakened and was trying to ignore the pain when the door opened and her footsteps hurried toward him. He opened his eyes but saw only blackness.
“Lie still and stay very quiet. Some people are coming, and it might not be safe for them to see you. I’m dropping the curtain in case I can’t keep them out of the cottage.” With the rustle of the curtain, she was gone, closing the cottage door behind her.
Through the open window, he heard the hoofbeats of horses coming up near the porch. There were two, maybe three riders. Were they dangerous to Valeria as well as to him? His lips tightened. He couldn’t do anything to help her if they were. His shoulders tensed, as if for battle. He strained to hear what was happening outside.
“Welcome, Baldric. I hope no one in your family needs my help today.”
He didn’t understand all the Germanic words she spoke, but he understood enough. Her voice was cheery and relaxed, not frightened at all. His muscles relaxed as well. She wasn’t in danger.
Odd. Why did he feel so protective of her? Why had he just thought more about her safety than his own?
“No, Valeria, we are all well. I bring you some news and a warning.” The voice was deep and commanding.
“News and a warning?” She didn’t sound quite so relaxed.
The deep voice again. “Someone ambushed soldiers on the south road at the gap. Probably dead since market day. Six Romans, five Germans―more battle than ambush. We have given all the dead burial. It is good to see the Romans die, but too bad there is robbery and murder along that road again. I think it is only robbers and not the raiders of three years ago, but I cannot be sure. The Romans may come to avenge their dead, and they will not care if they punish the innocent as well. Be careful when you go to the village next market day.”
Valeria was waiting for the question she knew was lurking on Baldrics lips. Baldric’s piercing blue eyes missed nothing. He couldn’t have failed to see Astro in her corral.
He glanced over at the corral when Astro nickered at the mare his son was riding. He focused inquiring eyes on Valeria. “A magnificent new horse is in your corral today...”
She met his gaze. “Rhoda and I had to drive past the dead from the ambush. I’m glad you gave them decent burial. We were afraid to stop for that. That horse followed us. The robbers must have left him because he’s hurt.”
She shifted her gaze to the horse, hoping Baldric would do the same. She wanted no questions about its owner. She didn’t want to have to lie to him. “He might not heal enough for heavy work, but I think I can get him strong enough to breed. He’ll make big, strong foals. If you have a mare that’s ready, you may bring her to him, if you wish.”
Baldric’s chuckle was followed by a wide grin. “You are a wise woman, Valeria. You let nothing go to waste. Now, if you were only wise enough to marry one of my sons...”
“You have fine sons who would make the hearts of many maidens happy, but they don’t follow the Way. Only that will do for me.”
“Perhaps I can change your mind about that.”
Valeria smiled and changed the subject. “Speaking of your fine sons, how are Olga and your new baby doing? All still goes well, I hope.”
“Yes, she is well, and my son grows stronger every day. She is a good wife. Your medicines cured her, and I am grateful for that.” A deep chuckle rumbled up from his chest. “And as you always say, maybe your god had something to do with it, too.”
Turning his horse, he looked back over his shoulder. “Farewell, Valeria.”
“Farewell, Baldric, and thank you for the warning. We’ll be careful.”
Valeria stayed on the porch until Baldric and his two oldest sons rode into the trees and out of sight. Then she reentered the cottage.
She pulled back the curtain to find Decimus with his eyes open and a thoughtful crease between his eyebrows.
“I see now why you don’t want me looking too Roman. You are a wise woman, Valeria, even if you won’t marry one of Baldric’s sons.”
Valeria’s own mouth curved as she watched the corner of the tribune’s mouth lift into a half smile. “So my Greek merchant understands more Germanic than I thought. Yes, I am a wise woman, able to recognize a good horse and a good man. Baldric is a powerful man, respected by his friends and feared by his enemies. His father was a warrior chieftain. The men for many miles call him their leader. It’s very much better to be considered his friend.
“I’ve known him all my life. He was a close friend of my father. His wife was dying of fever after childbirth, and I treated her. God healed her, and now Baldric counts me among his valued friends, too.
“If he knew I was helping a Roman tribune, he might question whether I belong in that group. I think you should stay quiet for a while in case he returns. You still don’t look enough like a Greek merchant, no matter how hard I’ve tried to change you.”
Although he said nothing, the corners of his mouth tipped up in a full smile.
What a relief to see his spirits improving, despite his pain and continuing blindness. It was a good sign that he was making jokes and enjoying hers. She gently squeezed his forearm. �
�I have a bit of work to finish outside. Rest now. I’ll be back soon.” Still humming, she walked out and closed the cottage door.
Decimus closed his eyes. He now had proof that she would protect him if she possibly could, and he no longer worried about her motives for helping him, even though she was a Christian. Her ability to distract him from the pain and make him smile was remarkable.
What would a woman like her consider a good man?
Decimus had been dreaming about the ambush, and he awoke with a start. Everything was still blackness, and once more his vulnerability and pain pressed hard upon him.
His ears picked up the rustling as she set down her sewing and quiet footsteps as she approached. She sat down beside him. “Do you need something?”
“No.”
He wasn’t expecting the light touch of her fingers on his forehead as she moved a loose strand of hair back in place. He jerked his head back. The jolt of pain from the movement made him clench his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut.
“Oh! I didn’t mean to startle you.” Her warm hand rested on his upper arm. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’ll warn you before I touch your head again.”
He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. As he reached to feel the back of his head, she grabbed his hand.
“No, you mustn’t touch it.” She pulled his hand down into her lap and held it there. “Do you want something now for the pain?”
He took another deep breath and blew it out. “No. It’s not too bad.”
The pain was like waves breaking on the beach: swelling, cresting, and pulling back, only to surge again. But he didn’t want to take any medicine that might dull the senses he still had.
