by Sandi Rog
Alexander stepped back, ready to run from the peristyle.
Demetri removed the blade, swung around, and pointed his bloody sword at Alexander. “You, stay!”
Alexander froze, his feet like the statues surrounding him.
Demetri marched into the bedchamber. “What were you thinking? Why?!” the master shouted, the anguish in his voice echoing off the high walls.
“You wanted an heir!” Claudia’s voice was shrill. “None of your concubines have conceived. I had to try! To make you happy! No ….” Claudia’s voice became muffled and scuffling sounded from the chamber.
Demetri wailed and a slap resounded on the air.
Quiet.
Alexander stepped closer. He wouldn’t kill her, would he? A man couldn’t kill his wife; only a father could kill his daughter. But that hadn’t been the law for years, though some still carried it out.
“I knew it!” A man’s voice erupted from the peristyle.
Alexander turned to see Claudius. He stood over Brutus’s naked, dead body, and unsheathed his sword.
Claudius wailed and shouted then marched toward the bedchamber.
Ironically, the thought that Claudius would make an excellent gladiator flashed through Alexander’s mind. He backed away, wishing the master hadn’t commanded him to stay.
Master Demetri came out of the chamber, his face pale and sagging in anguish. He held up his free hand to Claudius, his own sword at his side. “Don’t.”
Whimpering and crying came from the chamber. “No, Papa. Please.” Claudia came to the doorway, her stola hanging loosely over one shoulder, a sheet dangling in front of her.
Alexander sighed. Thank Elohim, she wasn’t dead.
“No daughter of mine will get away with this.” Claudius ground out the words between his teeth, fist still gripping the sword.
“Stop.” Demetri pushed his friend away from the door. “We’ll work this out.”
Claudius’s face reddened. “There’s only one way to work this out.” He raised his sword and stalked around Demetri, his gladius poised to strike.
Demetri lifted his own blade to block the man’s jab.
Claudia screamed.
Claudius’s sword stuck in the doorpost.
“Papa, don’t! Please!” She ducked and ran out of the room. “I’m sorry, Papa! I’m sorry!” She scurried behind Alexander, clinging to his back, her sweet perfume and fear reeking over him.
Alexander wanted to push her off, but as her slave, it was his duty to protect her. It was his duty to give his life for her. He wanted to rage!
Claudius jerked the blade out of the doorframe. He turned toward his daughter, eyes bulging. He glared at Alexander as Demetri grabbed his arm.
Shaking off Demetri, the man stalked toward Claudia. Alexander pushed her behind him, moving away, step-by-step, careful not to trip on her dangling sheet.
“Your crime is deserving of death, daughter.” He said the word with disgust and spat on the floor between them. “If I have to kill you both, I will.”
“No!” Demetri shouted and pushed in front of Alexander, his sword drawn.
“She’s failed to provide you with an heir, but even worse, she’s committed adultery.” Claudius’s gaze softened toward the master. “You know as well as I her actions are deserving of death.”
“This isn’t the Republic anymore,” Demetri said. “That law has been dead for years.”
“Makes no difference to me. By rights, she still belongs to me. I’m her father!” He lunged forward and jabbed his gladius at Alexander, cutting his arm.
Alexander cried out and jumped back, knocking Claudia down behind him. He could avoid this man if he didn’t have to protect his mistress.
“Alexander … boy.” Master Demetri’s voice was a forced calm. “Protect her for me, please. Use those fighting skills David is teaching you.”
Alexander held his bleeding arm. Of course he’d protect her. He had no choice. But how was he to do that? Claudius was three times his height and weight.
“Get out of my house!” Demetri pushed on Claudius. “You’re drunk and you stink!”
Claudius bellowed, brandishing his sword in the air like a madman. “She has shamed me!”
“No!” Demetri grabbed Claudius’s arm, holding the sword away from them. “She has shamed me. Let me deal with her.”
Demetri held on, but Claudius proved to be stronger. If Alexander didn’t do something now, his master would be cut, possibly killed.
Alexander jumped in and grabbed Claudius’s arm. “Get out of the way of the blade!” he shouted at Demetri, having never spoken so forcefully to his master before.
Demetri moved to the side.
“Now, let go!” Alexander strained to hold the bigger man’s arm.
Demetri released his arm, and Alexander pushed the blade in the direction of Claudius’s thrust. Claudius stumbled forward and Alexander swept his leg beneath him, tripping him. Claudius toppled and landed hard on his stomach, his bulk taking Alexander with him.
At seeing Claudius’s awkward position on the tiles, Alexander knew the fall hurt. He climbed to his feet. The man wouldn’t be getting up soon. One of the most important things David had taught Alexander was how to fall. This man surely didn’t know that rule—he lay prostrate on the floor, one arm bent beneath him.
Panting and holding his bleeding arm, Alexander glanced at Demetri then back at Claudius.
Now what should he do? Sit on the man so he couldn’t get back up? Demetri stood motionless, his face pale, so Alexander straddled Claudius. Demetri was right. The man did stink. The sweat and alcohol covering Claudius clung to Alexander’s tunic.
“Now what?” Alexander asked, trembling.
“Get her out of here.” Demetri motioned to Claudia with a trembling hand, his quiet voice echoing through the indoor courtyard. “I’ll see if I can’t talk some sense into him when he’s sober.”
Alexander sprang up and hurried to Claudia. He grabbed her arm and led her to the door, anxious to get away from the danger.
Once outside, Claudia wept.
Alexander tugged her along. People passed them on the street, some with lifted eyebrows at the sight of Claudia in her distressed state.
Alexander stopped and waved at her dress. “You should fix your stola, mistress.” His voice was harsh, a lot harsher than intended, seeing as how he should be subservient. But the woman nearly cost him his life, his freedom. He had little compassion for the chit.
Wiping her nose, she lifted the thin sleeve of her stola over her shoulder.
He helped her with the sheet, covering her stola with the material, since she no longer had the tunic on beneath the sheer fabric. Fuming, he longed to berate her. He could have died. And after all his plans for freedom. His coins were still hidden. His mother didn’t even know where they were. If he had died, her freedom would’ve died with him. He’d have to divulge his secret and tell his mother where he hid the money.
“I’m so sorry,” Claudia said as they walked toward Manius’s home. “All I wanted was to make him happy. To give him a son.” She wiped her nose on the sheet.
Clenching his teeth, Alexander didn’t say anything.
Demetri already has a son.
He clamped his mouth shut. If he spoke, he’d only say something disrespectful and harsh. She still had power to have him tortured and killed, despite her weakened state and deplorable conduct. He held his cut arm. The bleeding had lessened, but now that the fight was over, the throbbing increased.
Claudia continued to mumble and cry, talking about giving Demetri an heir, while Alexander led her along.
He glanced over at her reddened face and tearstained cheeks. She was quite pretty, and sometimes looking at her made him feel good, but because of that, he’d always tried to avoid her. The fact that she’d dare go this far to produce an heir shocked and completely disgusted Alexander, and she suddenly didn’t look so pretty anymore. How could she stoop so low to gain the master’s f
avor?
Especially when Master Demetri already loved her; and Alexander thought, she loved him. In fact, Alexander had never seen the master so happy, and now he dreaded what this latest incident might bring. Would he start drinking again? Alexander cringed. All the more reason to buy his freedom as soon as possible.
For three days, the master had been out of his mind with grief. It destroyed any opportunity for Alexander to beg and buy his freedom. He had to wait for the master’s spirits to lift.
Claudia remained with the women of the church. And while her deplorable conduct put her there, the church had been good for her. Perhaps the Lord would work this horrible situation into something good. But until then, those still under Demetri had to suffer the consequences of her abhorrent behavior with Brutus.
Once Claudius was sober, Demetri managed to calm him down and bring him to his senses, but the master wasn’t yet ready to face his young wife.
“Here we go again,” Alexander whispered to his mother as they watched Demetri guzzle more wine in the peristyle. The pleasant scent of flowers and potted plants contrasted with the master’s slumped state and his dark mood. “Why’d Claudia have to go and ruin everything?” Alexander said between clenched teeth.
“She wanted to make him happy,” Mamma whispered, still peering through the curtain at the master.
Alexander turned to the atrium, sagging onto the edge of the impluvium. With the master drinking again, he’d better get used to spending more time in the fountain. He pounded his fists against the marble. “Why?” he whispered, wanting desperately to shout. He rested his elbows on his knees and raked his hands through his hair.
“He’ll never agree to set us free now,” he said to his mother as she neared.
“Alexander, my son.” She knelt at his feet. “I don’t wish to be free.”
He looked at her. “What?”
“I know you’ve been working hard for us both, but … ” She released a long sigh. “I wish to stay.” She placed her hand on his knee and moved closer. “Use the money for yourself. I want you to be free.”
Alexander frowned and shook his head. “You can’t be sincere. Mamma, after everything he’s done to you? To us?”
“He’s a broken man. We’re all broken.”
Alexander ground his teeth together. “Yes, and we must all cut ourselves on his fragments.” He stood to put distance between himself and his mother. How could she do this to him? How could she put that man who wasn’t even her husband before freedom? Again, he raked his hands through his hair as he paced. Finally, he turned on her. “Why?”
She squared her brown, petite shoulders and took a deep breath. “I love him. I always have.”
Alexander closed his eyes and turned his back on her. He already knew that. In fact, it was his weakness as well. But he was tired of being a slave, tired of being no one’s son. He wanted desperately to escape this aimless, meaningless life.
He faced his mother again. “I planned on taking you back to Alexandria. To your father.” My grandfather.
Mamma’s eyes widened.
After that one time, he was never able to talk to her about them again or to ask her more about her family. He knew it’d be too painful for her, and he didn’t want to see her cry.
This time she turned away from him. “I can’t go back.”
Alexander’s heart sank. All his plans for a happy future disintegrated before his eyes. Even worse, they were being crushed by the last person he thought would want to destroy them. “But why?”
“I’ve shamed them.” She glanced at him. “I can never go back.”
He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “But what do you have here?” He shook his fist at the curtain where his master drowned himself in his drink.
“Ever since we arrived in Rome all those years ago, he hasn’t been himself.” She stared at the curtain. “He’s no longer able to have children. I couldn’t tell him before he married Claudia.” She lifted glistening eyes on him. “I’d hoped I was wrong. Something here has poisoned him. But I don’t know what.”
“Who cares!” he said in a voice so loud the master could hear him. He glanced toward the chamber. He forced his voice to a seething whisper. “He already has a son! But I’m not good enough for him. What makes you think anyone else will be?”
She looked at him and took a deep breath. “Because you were conceived in shame. A child conceived in wedlock is what he wants.”
“And whose fault was that?” Alexander threw his hands up at the curtain, wanting to throw something at the man he could never call father.
“It was mine.” His mother looked down, her lips trembling under tearful, brown eyes.
Alexander wanted to hold her, to tell her he was sorry. He reached for her.
“Bahiti!” The master yelled from behind the curtain.
His mother jumped up and hugged herself, looking at the floor. Just the sound of his voice sent her into a subservient stance.
Alexander’s stomach twisted.
Without a glance at him, she walked to the curtain and disappeared behind the mass of fabric.
Ω
That night, Demetri locked Alexander out of his mother’s chamber—actually, Claudia’s chamber now. He couldn’t stand the sounds the master and his mamma made, but he had to know that she was all right. Demetri was drunker than Alexander had seen him in a long time, and the possible dangers terrified him while he waited outside the door. The master had brought in several amphora vessels of wine. Did he plan on going for a swim?
Alexander sat with his knees pulled up to his chin as he waited. They could be in there all night. He rested his head against the stone wall behind him, praying the master wouldn’t lose his mind and start beating her.
The problem was, if Demetri did start beating her, how would Alexander get in to save her? He spent hours contemplating the solution. He could break down the door. It was made of wood. He’d have to find an axe. He knew of only one, in the ludus, and there was no way of getting into the gladiator school in the middle of the night.
Elohim, You would know. He rubbed his temples. How should I do it?
Just as he began dozing off, he realized he could remove the door from its hinges. The hinges! Of course. Amazing how simple the answer was to his dilemma.
He jumped up to examine the hinges. It was too dark to see them, so he looked for a lamp and found one burning in the kitchen. As he held it up to the door, he saw he’d need to hammer the metal pegs from the bottom to pop them out of their sockets. He tried pushing one up. It didn’t budge. He went back to the kitchen. There, he found a wooden spoon and some oil. He brought them back to the door.
All was quiet within the chamber as he poured the oil. Drops fell onto his bare feet. After setting the flask of oil down, he placed the flat part of the wooden spoon beneath the peg and pushed, using it as leverage. The peg slid upward. Alexander’s heart pounded. He tried the other two pegs and they slid upward as well. He stopped, knowing he could get into the chamber.
Keeping the spoon and the lamp at his feet, he sat against the wall outside the door again, ready to break in if he had to. Moonlight slanted through the peristyle, casting long shadows throughout the indoor courtyard as he rested his cheek on his knees. The shadows of the small palm trees stretched out over the floor, reaching like spindly fingers in his direction.
A comforting silence carried from the chamber. It floated through the house between small creaks and groans of the roof above him. The silence closed in around him as his gaze lingered on the lamp’s dying flame. He stared at it until its light became no bigger than a spark. Then, it was gone.
Daylight reached through Alexander’s closed eyelids. Servants moved about the peristyle, waking him. He kept his face down, hugging his knees to his chest. He lay on his side, the tiles warm where he rested and cold when he pulled his legs up on the untouched stone.
The door to the chamber flew open, banging against the wall. Alexander lifted his weary he
ad, adjusting his eyes to the bright sunlight. Grateful he never had to break into the chamber, he looked up as Master Demetri’s gaze flitted to him, grief reflecting in their green depths.
“I didn’t mean to,” Demetri mumbled like a blubbering fool, his trembling fingers pressed into his temples as he stumbled away. “No!” he shouted as wails escaped his throat. “What have I done? What have I done!” His anguished cry echoed through the peristyle and into the atrium as he disappeared behind the curtain.
Alexander went cold. Immediately awake, he scrambled to his feet and went into the chamber, afraid of what he might find.
His mother lay sleeping on the bed.
Alexander moved closer. The scent of Mamma’s perfume hung on the air. He stepped over scattered sheets and tunics as he made his way to the rumpled bed. Her arm lay draped over her eyes as if to block the sun’s bright light. He eased closer then stopped.
“Mamma?” he whispered, not wanting to startle her awake.
Silence.
He gently shook her shoulder. “Mamma.”
Nothing.
“Mamma, wake up.” He stepped back. Red bruises circled her slender neck.
What had the master done? Cold terror washed over him. He shook her again and her arm fell away from her face. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
Alexander stopped. He cupped her face, but she didn’t look at him. He waved his hand in front of her open eyes. Motionless.
Trembling, he put his hand in front of her mouth. Surely, she was breathing if her eyes were open. But why didn’t she look at him? Why didn’t her eyes light up at the sight of him? His hand brushed against her rosy lips. Maybe she’d call his name.
Alexander.
She couldn’t be gone. Not now. Not when he needed her.
He waited, testing his own breaths. How long should he wait? He’d gone through a dozen rapid breaths of his own and still felt no air coming from her mouth.
Bending down, he put his head on her chest. There had to be a heartbeat.
Again, he waited, while his own heart pounded like a musician’s drum.
Nothing.
He waited.
