by Carol Ashby
When Decimus and his father arrived at Sabinus’s villa, a slave escorted them to the dining room.
Sabinus turned at their entry and stopped his conversation with a middle-aged man whose toga bore the wide purple stripe of a senator.
“Ah, Tiberius, I see your years in Germania have only made you seem younger and stronger.” He held out his hand, and the two men grasped arms. “Trajan told me before he left for Armenia that you would leave your province in much better shape than you found it.”
Sabinus swung his gaze onto Decimus as he released his grip.
“I’ve heard promising things about you, Decimus. Like father, like son. I expect someday that you, too, will be a provincial governor. That will be a good thing for Rome. She needs smart young men like yourself to rise in their service to her. I’m glad to get to know you now so I can enjoy watching you rise. And who knows, maybe I can be of some service to you as you do.”
His smile reminded Decimus of a crocodile. The similarity probably didn’t stop there. He detected masked ruthlessness in Sabinus’s eyes. This was a man who would be better to have as a friend than an enemy. Maybe not better, but certainly safer.
Decimus smiled and nodded. His response seemed to satisfy Sabinus, who turned to converse with his father. A distinct relief...talking with a crocodile was touchy business, and he didn’t feel up to playing that game tonight.
Dinner was just as Decimus expected: too much rich food, too much wine, too much malicious gossip about the Roman elite. Only a few weeks ago, he would have drunk himself into a stupor with the rest of the dinner party. Tonight, he was the only one still sober.
As the wine began taking effect, Sabinus became less and less guarded in what he said.
“I’ve made it my goal to advance the careers of the sons of my friends who deserve my special attention. Many choose to express their appreciation for my contributions to their success. One is now a quaestor who organizes many of the games in Rome. He shows his gratitude by providing me with special entertainments sometimes.”
He turned to the slave who was overseeing the banquet. “Bring the girl.”
The slave bowed and left the room.
Sabinus wiped his mouth and smiled a suggestive smile at Decimus. “I like you, Decimus. I can see that you have a great future serving Rome. Tonight, I want to make you a gift of something my young friend sent me today. I have a Christian virgin who will be in the arena tomorrow. Normally I would have her myself, but I want to make a gift of her to you. She’s a cripple, but her limp and the scars on her face won’t make her any less enjoyable to take for the first time. Do what you want with her. She’ll be returned to the arena cells early tomorrow for the morning’s games.”
As Sabinus finished speaking, the slave returned with the “gift.”
Even before the ambush, Decimus had never enjoyed taking women who didn’t want him to. For a wealthy, handsome man, there were always plenty of willing women. Even then, he would never have taken a willing virgin who was barely more than a child. The offer revolted him, but he masked his disgust. His father’s beaming smile at Sabinus making such an offer disgusted him even more.
The girl stood beside the slave, her head bowed and her eyes focused on the ornate mosaic pattern of the floor. She couldn’t be more than thirteen years old.
“This is a special honor. I will remember it. Would it be possible to go to a room where we won’t be disturbed and we’ll disturb no one?”
Sabinus’s leering eyes matched his lecherous smile. “Of course.” With a flick of his fingers, he instructed the slave to take Decimus to a secluded room.
The slave bowed and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Come, tribune.”
Without raising her eyes to look at Decimus, the girl limped ahead of him as the slave led them down a hallway to a room far from the dining hall. The girl’s lips moved, although she uttered no sound. Decimus forced his face to remain emotionless. She was praying for deliverance, as Valeria would have when Fabius grabbed her in the village.
As they entered the room, he turned to the slave. “I don’t want to be disturbed by anyone tonight. No one is to come close enough to hear us until they come to take her to the arena in the morning.”
“I understand, tribune. I will place someone at the end of the hallway to ensure your privacy tonight.” The slave bowed and left them, closing the door behind him.
When the slave should have been out of earshot, Decimus opened the door. The hall was empty except for a slave standing guard at the far end. He closed the door and turned to the trembling girl. When he took a step toward her, she took a step back.
“Don’t be afraid. I have no intention of taking you.”
She stepped back again and almost stumbled. “But you told him you―”
“I only accepted the offer so you wouldn’t be given to another.”
Her eyes widened, and then her whole body relaxed as relief flooded her. “May God bless you for your mercy.”
Decimus’s jaw clenched as Rhoda’s sweet smiles danced in his mind. She could be this girl in a few years.
“My mercy can extend beyond this night. We’re alone. I can let you escape so you won’t have to face the lions tomorrow.”
A smile lifted the corners of her mouth until she was beaming, then it faded. “What will happen to you if I’m not here when they come?”
Decimus shrugged.
“Will they kill you?”
He couldn’t tell her they wouldn’t, so he said nothing.
Her face took on that same gentle glow he’d seen so often on Valeria. “I thank you for your mercy and kindness, but I’ll stay here. I’m not even sure where I could go. My betrothed and my parents are at the arena now waiting to die for our Lord. I’ll join them.”
His jaw dropped. He’d just offered her life and freedom, and she was choosing to die for Valeria’s god! First Publius and now her turning down his offer to free them so they wouldn’t have to die?
“But why? How can you make that choice? I’m not asking you to deny your god and sacrifice to Caesar. I’m offering your life without asking anything of you.”
“I can’t buy my life with yours. Besides, I have nowhere to go where I can love and serve my Lord without ending up in the arena anyway. Life without Jesus is death, not life, and I don’t want to live that way again. When the lions kill me, I’ll still live on with Jesus forever.”
He ran his fingers through his hair and stared down at her upturned face.
“I’ve heard those words before, but I don’t understand them.”
Something in her eyes pulled words out of him that he hadn’t intended to speak. “I love a Christian woman who told me the same thing. I’ve read your scriptures, but I still don’t understand. How can life be death and death be life? It makes no sense. Why are you choosing to die for this Jesus?”
Eyes of compassion softened her scarred face as a smile curved her lips. “Let me tell you why I love Jesus, and maybe that will help.”
Those eyes―so like Valeria’s as she sat beside him after his nightmare about killing her. So like Publius’s eyes when he said Jesus loved him and wanted him to come.
He knew nothing about this girl, but what she had to say...did it hold the key? She was the age Valeria would have been when she became a Christian. Could this girl solve the mystery that haunted him?
“Tell me.”
Her face lit up at his request. “When I was little, my father was not a good man. When he was sober, he treated us well enough. But he often drank too much. Then he got angry so easy.”
Her eyes drifted toward the window as she paused. Then she focused once more on Decimus’s eyes. “We never knew what would set him off. He beat me and my mother when he was drunk. Mother was afraid of him, so she wouldn’t even try to stop him when he was hitting me. I couldn’t understand why she let him hurt me, but I found out she had good reason to be so afraid.”
Again, she looked past him. “One night when I was ten, he started beating her, and he kept on even after she wasn’t moving anymore. I was so afraid he’d kill her that I tried to get him to stop. He did, but only because he turned on me. He hit me and kicked me again and again. I passed out when he stomped on me and shattered my leg. I think that’s when he finally stopped. My scars and limp are from that night.”
Decimus covered his mouth and rubbed his cheek. How could she be so calm as she described those many years of suffering with a brute who should have cared for her?
“The next day Father was so sorry for what he’d done, but that couldn’t undo the night before. Then our neighbor told him about Jesus, how He died to pay for every wrong my father ever did, how Father could be forgiven and live at peace with God. When he heard, he gave his heart to Jesus. Everything changed that day. He never got drunk again, and his anger was gone. Father loves us so much now, and no one could ever be kinder.
“After seeing how Jesus changed Father, Mother and I decided to follow Him, too. I forgave Father for crippling me, and now I truly love him because Jesus helped me do it. My life has been all I could hope for ever since. I’ll always follow Jesus, no matter what. I could never deny my Lord who saved me. He’s given me peace and so much happiness.”
Decimus massaged his neck as a frown dragged his mouth down. “So now you’re willing to die for him? Do you understand what kind of death that will be?”
Her lips twitched. “I know I’ll face the lions tomorrow. I can’t say that doesn’t scare me, but I pray my death will be quick.” Her peaceful smile returned. “And then I’ll see my Lord face to face, and I’ll be with Him forever. I can never love Him as much as He loves me, but I love Him more than anything else.”
Decimus ran both hands into his hair. As he held his head, he closed his eyes. How could she be so untroubled by what tomorrow held?
When he opened them, she was watching him, her lips in a gentle smile and her eyes soft.
“But can’t you love him without giving up everything else?”
“Sometimes keeping something we treasure isn’t possible. No matter how much I love life, I love Jesus more.”
Those words pierced his heart. His jaw clenched as Valeria’s tearful face and final words swirled in his memory. No matter how much I love you, I love Jesus more.
The girl’s lips straightened, as if she thought her words had caused his pain. She reached out and touched his hand. “Please don’t be sad! You should rejoice with me that I’ll soon be with Jesus forever. If you knew Him, you’d understand.” Her eyes warmed, and the smile returned. “I hope my story helped.”
He stood in silence for a few moments, gazing at her face. The girl looked happy and at peace. Like Valeria when she watched him reading their scriptures. Like when she prayed to their god as they sat around the table. Like Publius when he talked about meeting God.
He finally nodded. He didn’t want to tell her his real thoughts. What she’d told him astonished him, but he still didn’t understand. Perhaps he never would, even though he wanted to more than anything. How could both she and Publius tell him to rejoice instead of grieve over their deaths? How could they be so content to die for their god?
He ran his fingers through his hair once more. No mystery solved, only more questions with no answers.
“Thank you for telling me. Rest now. The slave should keep anyone from coming to this room, but I’ll stay for a while to make sure no one bothers you tonight. I’ll leave when I’m certain you’ll be left alone.”
If she wouldn’t let him save her, at least he could give her a final night without pain.
She stretched out on the bed, and he drew the sheet over her and tucked it in around her shoulders. She looked up at him with bright, hopeful eyes, like Valeria had when she asked him what he thought about the story in the writings of Luke.
Decimus laid his hand on her hair as he had so many times with Rhoda. “Rest in peace, child. I will think about what you’ve told me.”
“Thank you for giving me this last night. God truly blessed me by having you here. I’ll be giving thanks and asking Him to bless you for your kindness for the rest of my life.” Her eyes grew serious. “I’ll also be praying that you decide to love Jesus, too.”
He forced a smile but said nothing. He turned away from her and walked to the window. There was an eight-foot drop to the ground. When it was time to leave, he could slip out through the window so the slave would continue to keep the room undisturbed until the guards came to get her.
His own heart remained in turmoil, but he could give her a final night of peace.
Chapter 48: Choosing the Way
It was well into the third watch of the night when Decimus climbed out the window and dropped to the ground below. The jolt was hard on his leg, and he sat down to massage it. It was about two miles to his father’s villa. A long walk for a man with a bad leg, but it was worth it to have spared the girl what Sabinus had planned.
He entered the villa through the main entrance, waking the slave guarding the gate with his knocking. After telling him to stop the chariot being sent for him in the morning, Decimus retired to his bedchamber.
He lay down on his bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. After tossing for what seemed like hours, he gave up trying to sleep and rose. He began pacing as his thoughts churned. Publius’s logical arguments. The story of the crippled girl whose name he didn’t even know. Everything he’d read in Valeria’s codices.
He’d read the history of their Jesus and his claim to be the Son of God. His death on the cross was supposed to be the perfect sacrifice that paid for every sin and made peace between sinners and God.
Publius had always been a good man, and Decimus would bet any amount that Valeria had never done anything bad in her entire life. Following Jesus couldn’t have made too big a change in what they did.
But the girl’s story of Jesus’s love and forgiveness instantly transforming her father from a vicious brute to a loving husband and father―that shook him to his core.
He’d asked for proof from her Jesus, and here was the proof he’d been looking for.
People didn’t change like that, not on their own and certainly not instantly. Something or someone must have changed him. The girl told him Jesus had transformed her father and given him and his family peace and love―like he’d seen every day with Valeria. But Jesus could only do that if he wasn’t just a dead man; he must truly be the living son of God, as Valeria’s codices and Publius said.
And if that was true, his sacrifice could pay the debts of sinful men like himself, just like he claimed. Jesus had paid the ransom, and he offered the chance for eternal life with him instead of death. All a person had to do was believe and accept it.
Only a fool would turn down such an offer.
Decimus was no fool.
His mouth pulled up into a crooked smile. Ask and you’ll receive. I asked you for proof, Jesus, and a brute changing into the best of fathers is enough.
He wasn’t a brute, but he had been a proud, selfish, violent man. In the eyes of the Christian god, he was a sinner. Her codex said to confess and believe. He was ready for both.
Decimus dropped to his knees and began his confession. It took a while to work through the many things that he’d done and many more that he’d failed to do.
When he could think of nothing more, he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and plunged ahead.
“Jesus, I ask you to forgive all my sins. I believe in you, and I want to follow you as my Lord and my God. I renounce my vows of loyalty to Rome and Caesar and offer all that I am to your service instead. Please accept me and save me and show me what I must do.”
As he knelt in the dark on the cold marble floor, the room filled with brilliant, shimmering light. As the light enveloped him, an overpowering feeling of being loved washed over him, and a sense of total peace replaced the turmoil that had churned within him for so long
. A bubbling joy that he’d never imagined possible filled him, and he found himself giving thanks in a language he didn’t know.
He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but when the light faded, he felt...different. A smile tugged at his lips and grew until he was beaming. So this was what Jesus meant when he told Nicodemus he could be born again. God’s presence burned within him. He would never be alone again. No wonder Valeria always prayed to her God like He was a person in the room with her. He was really there.
Valeria’s song on the porch the night his vision returned―the hauntingly beautiful melody, the words he couldn’t understand. The Holy Spirit was with her that night, just as Decimus had met Him tonight. The Spirit was there when she came to tell him good night and that God loved him. No wonder she’d been so certain her God was real and would heal him because God even loved a wounded Roman tribune.
He finally understood her: why she obeyed her God’s command to save him, why she longed for him to know Jesus, why she refused to give herself to the man she loved when he didn’t love her God.
That refusal―it had haunted him, but what a precious gift! This peace and joy would not be his if she hadn’t loved Jesus over him. Only the anguish of losing her could drive him to seek Jesus as well.
Jesus was real, and he was alive. Decimus would follow Him as Lord, no matter what. Tomorrow he would tell his father he could no longer be tribune or follow the course of offices because he now followed Jesus. He would return to her in Germania...if Father didn’t have him killed for his new faith. If his father declared him an enemy of Rome deserving death, he could face the sword or the lions without fear because life forever with Jesus awaited him on the other side.
He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. The peace of God filled his heart and calmed his mind, and he drifted off into the sweetest sleep of his entire life.
