“That’s easy for you, a Roman,” he said, and then his cheeks burned red with shame. “I’m sorry,” he amended quickly.
I stopped, staring at him with hard eyes. He was taller than me, but I tried to do my best to mimic my grandfather when he was being commanding. “Why are you afraid of me?”
Yehuda took a small step back and shook his head. “My parents brought us here when we were babies,” he said. “There was a rumor that the King in Jerusalem ordered all newborn boys to be killed. Twins don’t happen a lot, my mother was terrified that Herod would take it as a sign. So we left. Alexandria has been kind to my family,” he continued.
“You’re Hebrews?” I asked.
“Yes,” he affirmed with a nod. “In Rome, in Jerusalem, my father tells me that we’re slaves.”
“My servants are Hebrews,” I mused, scratching my chin. “But mother takes good care of them.”
Yehuda bowed his head. “They would execute me on your word, you know.”
“They? They who?”
“They the Romans,” Yehuda said very quietly. “I thought for sure you’d turn me over when I knocked you down.”
Listening to this pained me. To have this boy terrified of a kid younger and smaller than him, simply on a rumor hurt. To have him believe that my people were monsters… it was a lot to take in. I found myself so separate from his culture despite being partly born of them, and it stung. I could have been like him. Half of me was; half of me belonged to the Hebrews by blood, and I found myself seething with jealousy that I fundamentally couldn’t understand his fear of my Roman standing.
“No one will harm you, or your brother. I vow it,” I said, putting my hand over my heart.
He shook his head, giving me a sad smile. “I don’t think it’s so easy.”
“People listen to me,” I insisted. “I’m supposed to become a senator one day, and even my grandfather respects me.”
He gave me a patronizing look and sighed. “I appreciate your help, but I have to find my brother.”
Standing firm in my resolve, I reached out and put my hand in his. “We’ll find him together. Let’s check the docks, and I swear if he’s not there, I will call on soldiers to sweep the city streets.”
He paled and shook his head. “Not the soldiers. Please.”
“My servants, then,” I said, and with that, I tugged him along, determined to prove that I was no one to fear, that I could be like him, that there was a part of me that could understand.
As we reached the harbor, several ships had docked and massive carts of food, animals, and spices were tumbling onto land. Vendors were all around, shouting prices, shaking bags of exotic nuts and treats in our faces.
Yehuda looked absolutely petrified by the throng of people, but I kept a firm hand on him as I purchased several bags of fruit and spiced nuts to try. He refused the offer of food at first, and I could tell he was overwhelmed by the entire scene.
It was true, the docks were far too crowded to find one young boy, but I wanted Yehuda to relax. There was something about him I liked, and truthfully, I’d never really had a friend before. My servants often had children I could play with, but none of them interested me in the way this boy did. I wanted to understand his life, but I also wanted him to understand mine.
Luckily I knew the docks well, and I managed to drag him down an alley and up a set of stairs to a large stone block that overlooked the water. The noise below was muted up there, the people milling around like ants, carting their wares, making deals, arguing and smiling.
Yehuda visibly calmed after a few minutes, and before long the two of us sat up there, our legs dangling over, passing the bag of spiced nuts between us. I caught him staring out at the water mostly, looking off into the horizon were boats sailed and the sun’s heavy light reflected off of the waves. He looked peaceful, finally, the pressure to find his brother momentarily relieved.
“I’ve never tasted anything like this before,” he said, turning one of the nuts over in his palm. “Do you know what it is?”
“No,” I said and laughed. “Sometimes I take food, just to taste it. I want to taste everything! I want to read everything, and know everything! My mother thinks I’m mad, but I don’t care. One day I will be one of the great thinkers in the library, and everyone will read my scrolls on the gods, and philosophy and poetry.”
He smiled at me, his head bowed slightly. “That won’t be me, but at least I can look up and say that I knew you for a day.”
“A day?” I shook my head and crossed my arms. “We’re going to be friends forever, you know.”
“They’ll never let someone like me inside the library,” he said, shaking his head.
“Can you read?” I asked.
“A little. We’re carpenters, my family. My brothers and I work with my father and we do okay. Father’s work is good, and he says that Yaakov, my younger brother, and I work like him.”
“What about your twin? Yeshua, you said his name was?”
Yehuda gave a soft sigh and looked back out onto the water. “Mother and Father don’t know that I know, but they’re hiding him from something.”
I frowned. “From what?”
He hesitated, so I reached out and touched his shoulder to reassure him. “There were men. From the East. They think my brother has something special about him.”
“From the East?”
“I don’t really know a lot,” Yehuda said quietly. He looked over at my hand still resting on his shoulder and he took a deep breath. “I heard them talking one night when they thought I was asleep. Mother talked about men who came to find her, find us, when we were just born. She said they brought strange gifts and said that the second born twin was a soul reborn and they wanted to take him. I don’t think they wanted him then, but mother and father are terrified that they’re coming for him soon. When he disappears like this, they go into a panic.”
“That’s interesting, I’ve never heard of anything like that,” I said. I stood up, pulling Yehuda up with me. Pocketing the rest of the food, I grabbed his sleeve and directed him down the building once more. “It sounds serious. I think we had better find him. Just in case.”
We turned away from the docks, but when Yehuda saw we were heading in the direction of where my house lay, he stopped me. “I’m not allowed to go there,” he said.
I lived in an all-Roman area, and as diverse as Alexandria was, there wasn’t a lot of diversity in my streets. However, there were servants, and never had I seen any occupant of Alexandria mistreated, regardless of the places they strolled.
“I swear it, you’re under my protection. If they take you, I’ll offer my life in place of yours,” I vowed, meaning every word.
Yehuda still hesitated when I tried to pull him along. “I don’t think this is a good idea. My parents don’t let me go into this area.”
“Alexandria is huge, and we have to check everywhere, don’t we?” I pressed. He gave a short sigh and I started to pull him along again.
We didn’t get far down the road before I saw him, the boy crouched near a tall building. I stared with wide eyes at him, taking in every inch of the identical features that he shared with my new friend. It was strange for me, having not met a twin before, looking between Yehuda and Yeshua.
It took me a moment to realize that something wasn’t right with the boy near the wall. He was slumped, his eyes were closed, and his breathing was hard and ragged. Yehuda noticed him just after I did, and together we bolted across the street, dropping to our knees by his side.
“Oh no,” Yehuda gasped, putting his hand on his brother’s.
I touched Yeshua’s face and forehead, mimicking how I’d seen my mother treated when she was ill. Her skin had been dry, burning to the touch, and she was pale. Yehuda’s skin was wet, clammy, cold beneath my fingers, and his body was trembling. His cheeks were rosy, and the skin around his eyes was dark.
“We have to get him out of the street,” I said swiftly. “My house is close
, we can bring him there and you can fetch your parents.”
“Oh no, no,” Yehuda moaned. “I can’t let him be brought to your home.”
“There’s nothing execution worthy about taking a sick boy to a Roman house,” I said, my voice commanding. I didn’t have the slightest clue what was wrong with the boy, but letting him lie in the street wasn’t going to do any good. I turned and saw a few of the servants walking by, not from my house, but I knew them from a fellow neighbor all the same.
I stood, pointing my finger at them and calling out for them to stop. “This boy needs help! You two pick him up and take him to my home.”
The servants, two young men, looked irritated, but didn’t question me as I commanded them. Yehuda watched, fretting and nearly sick as the young men lifted his brother carefully and started towards the walls of my home.
“He’s going to be okay,” I said quietly as we trotted quickly behind. I put my hand in Yehuda’s and squeezed it. “You go get your parents while I make sure your brother gets treated. There are people here who can help him, I promise.”
Yehuda looked more petrified than I could really comprehend, but he complied, squeezing my hand once, very firmly, before running off. I followed the servants through the gate and into the main room where they lay the boy on one of my mother’s sofas. He gave a small grunt but his eyes didn’t open as his head flopped to the side.
“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” I asked the perplexed men.
“No, sir,” one answered me.
I fished out a few coins and paid them for their trouble, as I’d seen my mother do, and I felt more like the head of the house than I ever had.
It only took a few moments for several of our house servants to come into the room and at my command, they began examining the boy, trying to make him comfortable. One servant pressed some wine to his lips, and after a moment, Yeshua drank. He seemed to be coming to, and I felt an immediate sense of relief. I liked Yehuda, and the last thing I wanted was for his brother to die on my watch.
The boy on the couch groaned a little and I darted forward, pushing the servants to the side. His eyes fluttered open and he looked confused, groaning as he tried to sit up.
“Stay down,” I commanded, putting my hand on his chest.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice slurred. He looked around, his eyes looking unfocused, and then his gaze settled on me.
“My name is Markus,” I said softly. “Your brother is fetching your parents.”
At the mention of his parents, his eyes widened and he struggled to sit up. “Oh. Oh no,” he moaned.
“What happened to you?” I asked, squinting at him in an attempt to find some physical reason for his condition.
“I don’t know,” he moaned. “One moment I was at the market, the next moment… here.”
I frowned. The market was quite a ways away, so the idea that he’d made it from there to the wall near my home without remembering was strange. Still, I had no reason to doubt him, and he seemed more frightened and concerned than anything.
I ordered him to be given some wine and food, which was brought on a tray, and though reluctant, he accepted the offer and sat up. He nibbled on bread, some sort of Greek recipe my mother insisted on having made constantly. It was thick and chewy, and often she stuffed it with tart fruits and honey. Yeshua was taking it plain, chewing a little awkwardly, as he stared at me.
“How long ago did my brother leave?” he asked after a few moments.
“He should be back soon,” I said, having lost track of how long Yehuda had been gone. “We spent most of the afternoon looking for you, you know.”
“How does my brother know you?” he asked, his face drawn. It was clear the idea that his brother had befriended a Roman boy without him knowing seemed impossible.
“We met today,” I said with a wave of my hand, “while he was looking for you. Good thing we found you when we did. Has that ever happened to you before?” I was curious about this boy, almost as curious as I was about Yehuda. I squinted at him, trying to see something more special in him than his twin, to see what, exactly, men from the East would want him for.
“Um, once or twice,” he muttered into his piece of bread.
I cocked my head to the side. He didn’t seem any different than his brother. He was braver; less terrified to be sitting in the house of a Roman, but I didn’t get the sense that he was more important than any other man on the street.
“Are you feeling better?”
He gave a short nod and took a last sip of the wine. “Thank you. My parents are going to be furious with me for accepting the food and drink, but it helped.”
I waved the tray away with a servant and shrugged. “No need to tell them.”
“I don’t lie to my parents,” he said firmly.
I blinked with surprise. I lied to my mother all the time. Every time she asked me what I did that day, my answers were usually studies, music, tutors. She had no idea how many times I’d been forced away from the library, or how often I spent her coins at the docks on food and trinkets from other lands. I saw no sense in worrying her, and telling her what she wanted to hear seemed simpler than trying to make her understand that what I was doing was good for me.
“Oh my,” came the rough voice of a woman from the doorway. I stood as the tall woman breezed past me, falling to her knees beside her son. Her face was streaked with tears and dirt as she examined him, holding his face in her hands.
The man who had to be their father stepped in slowly after his wife. He was impossibly tall, with a commanding presence, his eyes nearly black, framed by thick brows. He looked stern, but his gaze was soft as his eyes roamed the room, eventually landing on me.
He gave me a low bow, which I returned politely, and smiled. “He’s fine,” I said.
“Please except our most humble apologies for intruding on your home,” his father said, his voice so deep it rumbled through my chest.
I peered around the giant of a man to see Yehuda standing there, his gaze on the floor, trembling with fear. I gave a little sigh and looked up at the man. “My name is Markus, and it was no intrusion. I insisted your son be brought here, I was afraid for his safety.”
“What happened?” his mother asked, her voice still tight.
“He blacked out,” I answered when it became clear that neither twin wanted to answer. “He doesn’t know what happened. He seems to be feeling better now.”
“Markus was gracious enough to offer me some bread and wine,” Yeshua said quietly. “I’m feeling well now.”
When the mother looked at me, her face was drawn and pale. “We have little to offer as our thanks.”
“I don’t want for anything, your words are enough,” I said. It was something I’d overheard my grandfather say once, to a servant who had saved him from falling down a flight of stairs. The servant nearly cried at the words and the phrase always stuck with me.
“My name is Yosef,” the father said, “and should you ever need anything, we are in your debt.”
I shuffled my feet a moment, staring around him again at Yehuda, and then bravely, I met his eyes. “There is one thing,” I said softly.
“Anything,” he said, his brow creased with curiosity.
Yehuda’s head snapped up now, and I glanced over to see Yeshua staring at me as well, both twins’ eyes wide. I smiled a little, feeling small and sheepish, and I asked, “Can I visit with your sons again? Can they teach me to work with my hands, too?”
Chapter Eight
It was the simple thought, Abby is alive, that allowed Ben the freedom to accept one of Asclepius’ cigars from the wooden box; and he lit it up near the open window. He could hear muffled sounds coming from beyond the hidden room, the timber similar to people talking into a tin can, and the voices were raised.
It had been over an hour since Ben and Andrew had entered the doctor’s office, and Ben was starting to feel nervous. Asclepius was still locked to the chair, though he’d managed
to free his hands enough to propel himself around on the wheeled seat, refilling his drink and helping himself to a hidden candy drawer which he claimed even Greg didn’t know about.
Ben declined the sweets, but took up the offered cigar, though what he really wanted was an entire pack of cigarettes. He rested his knee up on the low-placed wall heater and stared out at the grounds. It was darker now, the California sun was dipping below the water, and all that remained was a quiet pinkish haze in the distance.
Ben was tired, he was hungry, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. He was allowing himself to process Abby being alive slowly, refusing to give in to his sense of urgency to track her down. Wherever she was, she wasn’t alone, and getting to her would probably kill him. It was by miracle alone that they had escaped the first time, and Ben doubted they’d be so lucky a second.
“Did you know?” Ben asked Asclepius after several long minutes of total silence.
Asclepius gave a couple of wet pulls on the cigar, staring at Ben with a quirked eyebrow. “I’m not telepathic,” he said when it became clear Ben wasn’t going to elaborate. “I know a great many things, Benjamin, so you’ll have to narrow it down a bit for me.”
Ben slid down into the nearest chair and sighed. “About Abby?”
Asclepius rolled his eyes. “Again, a little more narrow would be great.”
Ben hesitated, staring at Asclepius’ face. The god looked absolutely clueless, his face tight as though trying to figure out what Ben was talking about, and after a moment, Ben was satisfied that the god had no idea. “My sister is alive.”
Asclepius’ eyebrows rose almost to his hairline and he sat back in the chair. “Are you joking?”
“Why the hell would I joke about that?” Ben demanded. He put his face in his hands, careful to keep the red cherry of the smoking cigar tip away from his hair. “That thing in there, whatever he is, told me that Abby’s still alive. I can only assume she’s still functioning as Nike’s puppet. I figured you knew, since you didn’t seem very surprised to see us.”
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