by Sandi Rog
The street widened and he slowed. He found himself near Manius’s. He should have known he’d end up at the scribe’s home. Alexander pushed open the side gate and entered the courtyard. Adults lounged near the door to the atrium, talking with Manius. Thankfully, they didn’t notice Alexander. Keeping his head down, he found a secluded spot in the back of the courtyard amongst the sweet-smelling, colorful foliage—a stark contrast with his dark mood. He slumped onto a stone bench and rested his elbows heavily on his knees. He took a deep breath and exhaled, long and slow, finally able to breathe without the urge to choke.
Looking up, he spotted David joining the adults, his bronzed skin emphasizing his muscular physique. David was the closest person Alexander had to a father, but he didn’t dare go to him now for fear that he might break down. Alexander watched Alethea, David’s wife, follow her husband and sit amongst the female guests, her dark curls cascading to her waist.
Humming came from behind the trimmed bush against his back. He’d recognize that small voice anywhere. David and Alethea’s little girl. Would Elianna see him? He kept his gaze focused on the stone tiles at his sandaled feet. As if he could hide. A useless effort. He ran his hands through his wet hair.
Elianna skirted along the greenery and rounded the corner. Her humming stopped. “Zander!” Smiling, she danced up to him.
At four, she could probably say his full name by now, but the nickname Zander had become a special bond between them.
“You’re all wet. Did you go swimming?” Her dark eyes lit up with the idea, strands in her red-orange hair flashing gold in the sun.
If he didn’t admit to swimming, he’d have to explain how he got all wet, so he simply nodded, not trusting his voice. The knot in his throat had become so great he could hardly breathe.
“I want to go!” Elianna clapped her hands.
Alexander shook his head. No need to get her excited about the idea. The last thing he wanted to see right now was water. He still couldn’t fight the feeling that he was seeing and hearing everything through a liquid haze.
“It’s too late.” He coughed and then shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. “I’ve already been.” Thankfully, his squeaky voice didn’t betray him.
Elianna frowned. With the tip of her sandal, she kicked the stone bench he sat on. “Will you take me next time you go?” Dark eyes snapped, telling him she feared he might say no.
So he forced a smile. “Yes.”
Like the sun shining on a happy day, she grinned at him. Her gaze then fell on his tunic and her brows furrowed. “Even your clothes are wet.” She brushed her hand along his damp sleeve and down his bare arm. Her eyes widened. “Your skin is darker than mine.” She held her wrist up to compare. “Look!” she said, as if she’d never noticed this obvious fact before.
Alexander half smiled. She probably never noticed because the differences were subtle. With his mother’s dark Egyptian skin and his—the fair-skinned man who fathered him—Alexander’s hue fell somewhere in between.
Elianna’s dark eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t Elohim color me in too?”
Where did she get such an idea? Alexander shook his head and chuckled. He remembered her father, David, drawing pictures on a wax tablet for her to shade in with a stylus. She also often admired the colorful paintings on the walls.
“God likes variety,” he said.
Elianna pursed her lips together as she pondered his words. Then she nodded as though she understood.
The street gate flew open and Alexander’s mamma hurried in, eyes wild and searching the courtyard. She spotted Alexander and relief flickered over her face. She started toward him, but he looked down, hoping she wouldn’t come any closer. Desperate for a distraction, he grabbed Elianna’s hands and held them against his own, his trembling hand next to her small, dainty ones.
“See? The same color.” His voice nearly choked as he opened his palm against hers, showing the paleness of each.
Elianna studied their hands, mouth agape, and amazement reflecting from her wide eyes. He held them together as she ran her forefinger along the lines of his palm.
“Why are they pale?” Elianna’s words came out on a gasp. She looked at him as if he held all the answers to the mysteries of the world.
“Umm … I had to stand on my hands for Elohim to paint me.” He shrugged.
“Oh.” Elianna nodded, mouth still hanging open. “Of course.”
Alexander looked up to see his mamma backing away, watching him. She then turned toward the atrium. He wondered if she’d tell the others what happened. She never had before, but if she did this time, he didn’t want anyone to approach him. If someone made him talk about it, he didn’t know what he’d do.
“I have to go.” He kissed Elianna’s palm and stood.
Elianna studied Alexander’s kiss, studied her hand as if she’d never seen it before. Slowly, she pressed her palm to her lips where he had kissed her. Her eyes fluttered up to his. “Bye, Zander,” she whispered, her sweet smile almost making him forget why he had to leave.
“I’ll be back.”
By her eager nod, Elianna clearly didn’t doubt his return.
He hurried toward the gate, ready to make his escape. As he crossed the courtyard, David looked away from Mamma’s frantic gestures and spotted him.
Alexander cringed.
David lifted his chin in acknowledgement, concern clouding his eyes.
Alexander’s throat hurt again. Just that look was enough to make his nose burn. He wanted to run to him, to cry on him. All the more reason to leave. He shoved open the gate and took off running.
Ω
“There he goes,” Manius said, standing next to David.
David watched Alexander go as the gate slammed closed behind him.
He turned to Alexander’s mother. Tears streamed down Bahiti’s cheeks as she told them what Demetri did to her boy.
David clenched his fists. “How long has this been going on?” His voice sounded harsher than he’d intended.
“A long time.” Bahiti’s Greek accent still rang thick as she spoke in Latin. She began crying again and allowed Alethea to hold her.
David knew Demetri could be unpleasant, but never as awful as this. Alexander was just a boy, ten years old, almost eleven. What could Demetri have against the child, his own flesh and blood?
“How long is a long time?” David asked, trying to contain his anger.
Bahiti sniffed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Ever since he lost his land and … Alethea.”
Alethea had been promised to Demetri along with a dowry of land by her grandfather. But ever since her grandfather had been arrested and executed for attempting to murder Alethea’s father, Demetri had lost everything. That was five years ago.
“He started drinking.” Bahiti’s voice caught in renewed tears. “He’s good to me, until he drinks too much.”
David wondered about her definition of “good,” considering she was Demetri’s slave and treated with less value than a concubine.
“What do you mean ‘good to you’?” David’s eyes narrowed. “I thought he did this to Alexander?”
Bahiti straightened, sniffing back the flow of tears. “When Master Demetri becomes violent, Alexander tries to defend me.” She shook her head and lifted her hands as if pleading. “He knows it’s useless. The master beats me anyway, but Alexander puts his life in danger to protect me.”
David’s mouth fell open. He too had risked all when he watched his mother being dragged away by Roman soldiers and nearly raped right before his ten-year-old eyes. David had known he didn’t have a chance at beating Aulus, the monster who attacked his mother, but David charged in anyway. And now, little Alexander was forced to do the same. A weekly occurrence, or was it daily? The boy was a fighter, a defender. That title certainly suited his name—defender of mankind. David had to do something. Something to stop the violence.
He marched toward the gate, but Manius grabbed his arm. “Where ar
e you going?”
David’s vision blurred as he imagined the agony Alexander went through watching Aulus—Demetri—attack his mother. Memories of his own mother’s terror flashed through David’s mind. His parents being dragged away for defying Caesar. He’d gone after them but was left for dead and enslaved. He shook his arm free. “I’m going after that dog.”
“You can’t.” Manius stood near him, his fatherly tone pleading.
David shuddered with rage as he marched toward the gate, hatred fueling his every step. He wanted nothing more than to pound Demetri. He knew he could scare the man into doing whatever he wished.
“You’ll make it worse for them.” Manius’s voice of reason reminded David of his own father, Aaron. Manius, his adopted father, was the closest he had to one. The gray highlights in his dark hair emphasized his age, and his worried tone made him seem even older, almost frail.
David stopped, his jaw set. He tried to listen to Manius’s words while his fists itched for Demetri.
“If you confront him, he’ll take it out on them. He might not let them come here anymore.” Desperation in his eyes, he scrubbed his hand over his face. “He has the right to kill them if he wants.”
David paced in front of the gate, pressing his fingers to his temples. Manius was right. What could he do? Bahiti and the boy were helpless. How could they be protected if David couldn’t step in on their behalf? He had to do something. Then an idea came to him. From the time Alexander could hold a ball, David had taught him how to juggle. Now he’d teach him how to fight. How to defend himself. Alexander would learn everything David had learned from Titus.
Ω
He’d been everywhere. And nothing. No Alexander. David continued his swift pace through the Forum, along the Tiber, to all the gates, and finally to Demetri’s house. He talked to Bahiti—she’d gone home in hopes Alexander would show up there—and he still hadn’t come home. The sun gradually made its descent, and David headed to Manius’s house. Perhaps Alexander had gone back there?
David arrived at the gate of the courtyard as Sarah came down the street from visiting with Philetus. Her wide smile and flushed cheeks beamed with joy. David cringed. He’d lose his sister soon. Before he was ready, she’d be married off and living far away from him again. Hadn’t he spent enough years without his beloved sister? As she approached, David saw a fairer version of their mother with Sarah’s blond hair cascading over her shoulders. Her smile faded when she looked at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“We can’t find Alexander.”
Manius trudged up the street. “Nowhere,” he said, breathless.
“I just saw him.” Sarah pointed in the direction from where she had come. “He was sitting on the fountain near the Esquiline Gate.”
“Thank you!” David grabbed Sarah and kissed her soundly on the cheek.
She giggled from the onslaught.
“Tell Alethea I’ll be back.” He sprinted up the street.
David found Alexander sitting on a fountain that commemorated Titus’s defeat of Jerusalem. He sat atop a stone lion, leaning against Caesar’s leg. Relieved to see him, David slowed to a walk and ambled up to the boy. At the fountain, he sat on the edge of the pool below Alexander and watched passersby, sensing the boy’s gaze on his back.
The lowering sun cast long shadows over the busy street. A baker took down his wooden signs. The man closed his shop and disappeared inside to climb up the stairs leading to his apartment, likely taking fragments of the delicious aroma with him.
A greasy man strode by, freshly made ropes dangling over his shoulders. His aroma wasn’t nearly as pleasant as the baked goods.
A shadow moved above David’s head.
Alexander climbed down and perched next to him on the edge of the fountain.
They watched the people together, sounds of chatter, shouts, and laughter around them. A fuller rushed by with a basket of pressed tunics. A slave nodded at them as he passed with his master’s newly bought food. With the sun making its descent, people closed up the day before the wheeled carts entered the city.
“I know what you’re going to say.” Alexander held his gaze steady on the people in front of them.
“Oh?” David raised a brow. “What then?”
“You’re going to say that I need to trust Elohim and pray.”
David pursed his lips together and hunched over. “No.” He rested his elbows on his knees. “That’s what Manius would say.” David motioned toward him with his chin. “He’s right, you know.” He let out an exasperated breath and looked back at the ground. “I was going to say how much I want to kill Demetri for what he’s doing to you and your mother.” David shuddered at the thought of ever losing Alexander to that man.
“Will you?” Alexander’s head snapped up, his face glowing with anticipation.
“No.” David shook his head. “Like I said, Manius is right.”
Alexander frowned, but nodded.
“We need to pray for his soul. Pray for an opportunity to tell him about Yahshua.”
“He already knows.” The hopelessness in Alexander’s voice made David’s stomach constrict.
“He might still come around.” David smiled.
“I doubt it.”
“Since Elohim can part the Red Sea, He can take care of Demetri.” David chuckled, envisioning the bold confidence on his wife’s beautiful face. “That’s what Alethea would say.”
A woman walked by, leading her child who waved at them.
David waved back.
Alexander continued to stare at his feet, unable to be cheered.
David sighed. “Listen.”
The seriousness in his tone made Alexander look up.
“This life is temporary.” David gestured to the commotion around them. “Even if Demetri were to become a Christian, he won’t be your father in heaven.”
“He isn’t my father now.” It was a statement of fact, no malice behind the words. Just the simple truth. Because Demetri never performed the sublatus to claim him as his son, Alexander was named by his mother, and therefore, a slave.
“Even your mother won’t be your mother in heaven.”
Alexander’s brows furrowed. “But I’ll see her there.”
“Yes, of course.” David held Alexander’s gaze. “There’s only one consistency from this life to the next.” He waited, watching Alexander’s face to make sure he understood. “Jehovah God is your Father here on earth and will be your Father in heaven.”
Alexander and David stared at each other in silence for a long time. The busy traffic around them slowed and people dispersed, most likely headed for home. Everyone around them disappeared, until David and Alexander sat alone on the fountain.
“I do have a Father.” Alexander’s gasping tone broke through the silence. Moisture filled his blue-green eyes.
Not trusting his voice to speak, David nodded.
Alexander stared down at his hands, and then he wiped his eyes. As if realizing something, he straightened and took a deep breath. “I see Him in you.” He met David’s gaze again.
Tears flooded David’s throat, nearly choking him. He jumped to his feet, his back to the boy. If only he could be the boy’s father. How he longed to have a son. An idea struck and he rubbed his hands together, facing Alexander. “How would you—” David coughed. “I’ve got a show tonight. Want to come?”
Alexander’s face lit up and he hopped down from the fountain.
David put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and led him down the street. Tonight. Yes, tonight. He’d teach Alexander how to earn his freedom.
Ω
Alexander sat cross-legged on the floor with his elbows on his knees and watched as David juggled five small leather balls filled with lentil beans. This was the beginning of the show, so Alexander knew David would gradually build up to more difficult items, such as knives and lit torches.
Alexander waited in anticipation for his cue. David had said he’d let him juggle with him
during this performance, and Alexander’s heart beat in time to the fast rhythm of the music.
A man played a cithara lyre. Alexander couldn’t keep up with the movements of the man’s fingers as they flew over the strings. A woman danced around the guests, shaking a sistrum, while another man tapped his foot to the beat of the music as he played the tibiae. The man handled the double-pipes as if they were a part of his own hand. Fluted sounds carried off the columns and statues in the atrium as if the music were a bird taking flight, gliding from one guest to the other.
People watched David as lamps lit up the grand atrium, reflecting off their wide eyes and open mouths. Vines crawled up the nearby columns, and lilies floated on the water in the impluvium, not far from where David demonstrated his juggling abilities. Guests reclined on couches surrounding small tables laden with various foods. Enough to make Alexander’s stomach growl, despite having just eaten. Others in the party stood with drinks in their goblets and smiles on their faces. The guest of honor reclined in the center, a wreath on his head and a slave fanning him. The family celebrated the Liber, a special occasion for all young men who turned seventeen. Alexander already witnessed the young man dedicate his tunic and other favorite possessions to the gods. The boy was now officially a man.
“Now.” David glanced at Alexander.
Alexander jumped up and placed himself a few feet before David. He readied himself, aware of every eye on him. He’d juggled a number of times with David in front of the brethren, people who loved him. Would he do as well juggling before so many strangers?
David tossed the first ball, then the second and the third, until all five balls were moving between them. The partiers gasped, clapped and cheered, sending a thrill through Alexander.
