by Tessa Afshar
“I was her babe. Flesh of her flesh. She loved me. But I was also a constant reminder of a horror she could not come to grips with. I think that divide became too much for her, and she began to crumble.
“Servius must have been beside himself with worry. I do not blame him for what he did. He only wanted to protect her.”
“He is the one who abandoned you?”
Theo nodded. “When she found out what Servius had done, she was not angry. She understood that he wanted to shield her from completely falling apart. But she could not live with the decision. She felt riddled with guilt, knowing her younger son was alone somewhere, with no one to care for him. She assumed I had died. The burden of my abandonment became too much for her. She believed if she had been stronger, more able to cope, then Servius would not have been reduced to giving her child away.” Theo did his best to keep his voice steady. “In the end, she took her own life.”
Chariline covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide.
CHAPTER 32
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!
For your love is better than wine.
SONG OF SOLOMON 1:2
He waited for Chariline to loosen her hold on his hand. To curl her lip in disgust. Surely now she would walk away.
She clung to him harder than before.
Did she still not understand? He cleared his throat. “This is who I am, Chariline. The child of that father. The consequence of unimagined horror.”
“Theo!” Chariline’s voice emerged, fierce and indignant. “Theo, the circumstances of your conception do not make you who you are.”
“Don’t you understand? I was the cause of my mother’s despair. Every time she looked at me, she was filled with horror. I am the reason she took her own life. After she died, Servius shattered. Justus said his father never truly recovered. That, too, is my doing.”
Chariline let go of his hand. He felt it like the severing of a mooring line. Like the unraveling of a seam. He had always known this would happen if he told the truth. Known she would walk away, repulsed. Known she would find him repugnant once she discovered the full scope of his history. Still, when she let go, something in him caved.
Her hands lifted. Confused, he stood rooted to the deck. Did she mean to slap him? He made no move to defend himself.
Softly, so softly he wondered if it might be a dream, she cradled his face in her fingers. Held them there and pulled until his head lowered and his eyes locked with hers.
“I could not have loved you more if you were the son of a king, and I can’t love you less because of what your father did. You are the Theo I love. The man I admire. I have never known a better man. One more loyal or worthy of honor.”
Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips against his and kissed him shyly.
Theo was so shocked he never even tasted her lips. His eyes, open and unblinking, just stared at her like a brainless fool.
She drew back and frowned. Her hands dropped to her sides. Her mouth fell open in dismay, and the fingers that had held him so tenderly fluttered between them.
“I . . . Lord’s mercy . . . I am sorry, Theo . . . I . . .”
Before she could take another step away, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him. “Come here,” he said. This time he lowered his head to her lips without any prompting from her.
Her first kiss, he guessed. Other than the one he had just botched.
He would wipe that from her memory.
Her lips were soft and yielding. He gulped air into his constricted chest. “Come here,” he demanded again, pulling her tighter against him. “Come here and never leave.”
Theo had gone through a wild season after he had won the Isthmian Games. For a short time, he had had his share of kisses and embraces. But nothing had prepared him for the sweet touch of this woman. For the taste of her, the feel of her, tall and sinewy, fitting perfectly in his arms. Nothing had ever felt so right. “I love you, Chariline,” he whispered against her lips.
“Well,” she exhaled. “That took you long enough!”
“Natemahar, I need to speak with you. Is it too late?” Theo said as soon as he accompanied Chariline back to the cabin.
Natemahar closed a scroll he had been studying by lamplight. His gaze traveled from Chariline to Theo. His smile seemed touched by an odd sadness. “Too soon, perhaps.”
“Pardon?” Theo asked, confused.
Natemahar pushed himself from the bed. “A private jest. By all means, lead on, my friend.” He grabbed a light cloak hanging from a hook on the wall.
Wordlessly, Chariline kissed her father on the cheek as he was about to leave. Theo noticed the treasurer closing his eyes for a moment, as if savoring her touch.
Theo led Natemahar back to the prow. The lack of privacy on this ship was becoming more of a problem than usual. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “Natemahar, I would like to ask your permission . . .”
“You have it.”
“Wait. Don’t you want to know what I am asking permission for?”
“You wish to marry my daughter.”
Theo blinked. “How did you know?”
“I’ve seen the way Chariline looks at you. She clearly loves you. I knew if you had half the brains you seem to have, you would return her feelings.”
Theo barked out a laugh. “Then you give us your blessing?”
“I cannot deny I wish I had more time with my daughter. But that is merely my own selfish desire. Of course I give you my blessing, Theo. I could not have chosen a better man for her myself. You love the Lord deeply. Through danger and difficulty, you have proven yourself loyal, generous, wise, and capable. And you love my Chariline. What more can a father ask?”
Chariline leaned back into the railing and adjusted the parasol her father had loaned her to shade her eyes from the sun. He was speaking to Sophocles in low tones she could not hear. They made a strange pair, her father’s impeccable purple garments next to the old sailor’s stained, short tunic, dark, tight curls bent toward white flyaway wisps.
“Are my eyes deceiving me,” Theo said in her ear, “or have those two become friends?”
Chariline grinned. One day had passed since Theo had confessed his love for her. One day since he had held her and kissed her and told her to never leave.
In all the hours that stretched in between, she had blinked and frowned a hundred times and wondered if she had dreamed it. Then he would show up and draw her hand into his, or stare at her lips and murmur something in her ear, and she would realize that it was true. This precious, beautiful man loved her.
“I have a problem,” he said now, standing close, arm touching arm, shoulder grazing shoulder.
“And what is that?”
“I am a homeless man.”
“That is a problem.”
“I would like to ask you something important, Chariline.”
Her pulse quickened, its beat thrumming in her ear. She had thought hard about their conversation. It had covered a lot of territory. Changed her life and his. But in all the words they had spoken into each other’s hearts, she could not remember mention of marriage or anything resembling a proposal.
“Yes?”
“I was hoping . . .”
“Yes?”
“Very much hoping . . .”
“Go on.”
“Well. I was hoping you would consider being my architect. I would like you to build a villa on my orchard outside Corinth.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I have just the design in mind for you. Big, jagged holes in the roof, a cracked foundation, and crooked walls.”
Theo laid his forearms behind him on the railing and crossed his ankles. “I confess, that does not sound appealing.”
“Really?”
“I was hoping for something a little more agreeable. A spacious villa, say, with lots of bright rooms and a large garden, like Vitruvia’s.”
“Were you?”
Theo sighed. “Of course, th
e problem with a large villa is that it can grow quite lonely.”
She felt her lips twitch. “I can ask Priscilla and Aquila to loan you Ferox, if you wish. He makes a very pleasant sleeping companion, I am told.”
“That’s an excellent idea. Or, conversely, Natemahar could come and live with me.”
Chariline dropped her parasol. “What?”
“I don’t like the thought of him all alone in Cush, you see. Perhaps we can convince him to give up his influential position at the palace and retire in Corinth. You could design a smaller house for him down the lane from my villa.”
“A house for my father?”
“He has such elegant manners. I think he would make me an excellent neighbor.”
“Theo, so help me, if you don’t stop teasing me, I am going to hit you with that parasol.”
Theo tucked his toes under the parasol, made a flicking motion, and somehow, it spun into the air at just the right angle to land in his hand. “This parasol?”
He laughed at her expression. “Dear, brave, funny, talented, beloved Chariline, will you design me a villa and come and share it with me? Will you marry me and be my wife and move into the home I don’t have yet?”
The sun afforded them no privacy; too many eyes watched them. Kisses were out of the question. Instead, the gray eyes caressed her, lingered on her lips, until she felt dazed.
“Some men do anything for a free design,” she croaked.
Theo’s smile was slow and burning with too many promises. “Is that a yes?” He wrapped a hand around her wrist and pulled. “Say yes, or I’ll kiss you in front of everyone.”
“Yes! Yes,” she gasped, round-eyed. “I will be your architect. No need for threats.” And she started to run, skipping over ropes and tackle and swerving around men and laughing too hard to make much headway. Theo grasped her around the waist and pulled her back against him.
“What did you say?” he said.
“I said I will marry you, Theo. I will marry you, my love.”
He whooped and picked her up and twirled her around, shouting, “She said yes!”
The whole ship broke into loud cheers, men thwacking each other’s oiled shoulders and trying to pat Theo on the back while Chariline still lay against his chest, clutching for dear life.
The days became a thrilling haze of impossible happiness, melting one into another. Chariline and Theo’s joy was a contagion that spread through those around them so that even the crew became more cheerful, the sound of singing and affable conversation filling the corners of the ship throughout the day.
Chariline woke late one morning to find her father gone and the bed made neatly without a single wrinkle. They had fought over who should sleep in the bed, and it was only by proving that Natemahar did not actually fit on the floor that he had agreed to sleep on the cot. Theo had made the tiny space on the ground far more pleasant by having the foresight to purchase a narrow but thick pallet on their last day at Puteoli. It covered the floor between the bed and the wall and made for a cramped but comfortable bed.
Chariline stretched and poked her head outside the door, looking for her father, not surprised to find him sitting next to Sophocles. The two had forged a touching friendship.
Catching sight of her, Theo waved at her from the top of the mast, his smile warming her down to her marrow. She washed quickly, changed into a clean tunic, and wrenched the door open to find Theo waiting outside, knuckles at the ready for a knock.
“Come in,” she invited.
He lifted a thick sheaf of parchments. “I have a surprise.”
“If that is a poem, it must rival The Iliad,” she said, eyeing the thick roll.
“It is not a poem.”
She looked curiously over his shoulder as he spread the parchments on the bed. “Maps!”
He nodded. “They are of Corinth and its suburbs. I forgot I had them in my chest down below. When I came upon them this morning, I thought you might like to know where our land is.”
Our land. He had already sewn her seamlessly into his life. Gone from me and mine to us and ours. “Theo! That’s wonderful.”
He spent a moment showing her the different sites in the cosmopolitan city. “And this is Galenos’s house where I grew up.” He pointed to a spot on a narrow lane. “Galenos still lives there. When I am in Corinth, this is my home.”
Theo pointed to a field. “His house backs into this piece of land. And right next to it is the villa where my brother grew up. Justus and Ariadne reside there now with their son.”
“So you knew Justus all your life?”
“When we were children, Justus was Dionysius’s playmate more than mine since they are closer in age. But being neighbors, I knew him a little. I always looked up to him, especially once he started racing and winning at the Isthmian Games. Neither of us had any idea, then, that we were brothers.”
Chariline stared at the map. “I didn’t realize how close to each other you lived.” She frowned. “Did Servius not recognize you? He must have seen you in the neighborhood.”
“He must have. He knew Galenos.”
“When your mother became despondent about losing you, couldn’t Servius ask Galenos to give you back?”
“I think she died before he discovered where I was. Even if he had returned to the bema hours after he left me there, I would have already been gone. I doubt Servius would have spoken to Galenos until it was too late. He was dealing with a grieving wife, while Galenos had to cope with a household that contained two newborns and an irritated wife.”
“Your mother took her own life before Servius realized that you were hale and hearty, living next door.”
Theo nodded. “Poor Servius. I cannot imagine the horror of it when he realized I was there all along.”
“Why do you think he never said anything? After he realized who you were?”
“I asked Justus the same question. He thinks his father was so broken after the death of our mother that he could barely think straight for a long time. By then, he probably assumed I had grown attached to Galenos’s family. Become a part of it. Why uproot me?
“I also don’t suppose he relished the thought of telling me that he had left me at the bema like a sack of garbage. Likely, he felt too guilty to face me.”
Chariline pulled Theo into a fierce embrace. “If only your mother had held on.”
Theo’s arms tightened around her. “What the Lord is teaching me is that the sorrows of one generation do not have to be visited upon another. The misfortunes of our parents do not have to shape our lives. Not with Yeshua at our side.”
He stepped away and pointed to the map. “Now to more cheerful things. We need to put you to work, love. Come and see the orchard that belongs to us and start dreaming of comfortable villas with cool gardens.”
“Did you really mean it when you said you wanted my father to move to Corinth with us?”
“Absolutely. I think he would feel your absence too keenly now that he has finally found you.”
“I wonder if he would consider leaving his position at the palace.”
“He has had a lifetime of position and influence. None of that compares with having you. He told you himself. You are his greatest treasure. His incomparable jewel.”
“And what about you?”
“I am a great treasure too. No doubt of it.”
She swatted the air between them. “I mean, do you really not mind if he lives near us?”
“Chariline, I grew up without a family. I would like nothing better than to have a whole clan of my own living right next door to me. Your father is dear to me already. He is most welcome to a piece of my land, and an even bigger piece of my heart.”
Chariline pulled Theo’s lips to hers and tasted in his touch a bit of the vast heart that stretched to make room for so many. She reveled in the way he lingered against her, his whole body a tight knot of longing.
Finally, they parted, breathless, and turned their attention to the map and began to dream
of the home they would build together. They were discussing the location of Theo’s tablinum when the door burst open.
Chariline’s father stood in the threshold, a dazzling smile lighting up his features. “Come along you two. I need your help.”
“What is it?” Theo asked.
Natemahar reached behind him and pulled on something. It turned out to be a shoulder attached to Sophocles. “This old sailor wants to be baptized,” Natemahar announced.
CHAPTER 33
You said, “I am forever—
the eternal queen!”
But you did not consider these things
or reflect on what might happen.
ISAIAH 47:7, NIV
The journey to Alexandria, shorter than their voyage to Puteoli, proved, in every way, an idyllic time. The wind and the weather conspired to make sailing smooth and as rapid as the Parmys could manage.
Theo found it a trip full of unforgettable moments. Chariline’s confession of love for him. His proposal. Her acceptance. Their first kiss. Their second kiss. Their hours of planning for a future he once could not have imagined. Natemahar’s warm acceptance and welcome. And Sophocles’s baptism in the waters of the Mediterranean.
Yet, in spite of the incandescent joy, a heated anxiety was mounting in him. A fear that was taking on colossal proportions the closer they came to the shores of Egypt. First, they had to deal with transporting Chariline safely from the harbor of Alexandria to Meroë. His ship, made for the sea, could not navigate the Nile. They would need to find new transport. With a killer on their trail, every step of that journey would entail danger.
Bearing her safely to Meroë only meant facing an even greater danger: the dreaded audience with the queen.
Theo’s belly churned with nausea every time he thought of it. He knew, after praying, that Chariline’s choice was the right one. But right choices could get you killed just as effectively as wrong ones.
This mercurial Kandake petrified him. He could keep Chariline safe from warriors and assassins. But how was he to shield her from the power of a queen?
