by Milinda Jay
“Yes,” Annia said. And breathed a sigh of relief. The question was dangerous, but hadn’t the woman admitted she was Jewish?
“I had a feeling you were when I first saw you,” the woman said.
“What made you think that?” Annia asked, somewhat alarmed. In Rome, to be recognized as a Jew or Christ follower could now get you exiled.
“Nothing in particular. Just a feeling I had.”
Annia nodded and smiled. There was something very calming about being in the presence of this woman.
“Can you talk about what happened last night?” the woman asked.
Maelia, happy and satisfied after being fed, now began squirming and whimpering.
“But first things first. It looks like your baby may be happier in dryer garments,” the woman said. “Why don’t you come to my house and let me feed you and give you some clothes?”
“That would be so kind,” Annia said. She felt safe with this woman. She did not think she would harm her, or her children, and they all needed to eat. “I haven’t had a chance to even think. My name is Annia.”
“I’m so pleased to meet a fellow believer,” the woman said. “I’m Theodora. My house is just over the hill.”
Theodora’s house was very close. Her back garden overlooked the very beach on which Annia and her children had landed.
The villa sat close to the road, and was obviously very new, in the Roman style. At the front of the villa was a grand entrance with an open veranda held up with pillars. The entrance door was a massive oak structure, and when Theodora pulled it open, there was an atrium, a lovely pool and an inner garden.
Theodora led them into the house, where the walls were painted in muted greens, oranges and yellows. Inside the house, the painted columns and garden scenes made it appear that the entire house was actually outside rather than in.
“Would you like to eat or go to the baths first?”
“I think we will have to eat first,” Annia said. “I know the boys will. They have not had a morsel since last night, and I’m sure they’re famished after their struggle. I know I am,” she added.
Theodora smiled and nodded. “That’s what I would have guessed. We still have a few hours before the baths close for women and open for the men.”
And she led them into the back garden where there was a well-oiled shale table. The woman directed the boys to the folding benches leaning against the garden walls. The boys carried the benches to the table, unfolded them and waited for their mother to be seated, then sat on either side of her.
Theodora disappeared inside.
“Who is she, Mother?” Cato asked.
When she brought out bread and three kinds of cheeses, apples and pears, Flavius looked at her adoringly.
“Oh, thank you!” he said.
The woman looked somewhat surprised at his enthusiasm. “You are most welcome,” she said.
Looking at the food, Annia felt her mouth watering, but she had to laugh at her son.
“Please feel free to eat your fill,” Theodora said. “I know what it’s like to endure that long sea voyage. Now introduce yourselves,” she said to the boys.
“Oh, I’m afraid I was so busy thinking of food that I’ve been quite rude,” Annia said.
She motioned Cato and Flavius forward. “Tell her your names,” she whispered.
“I’m Cato, and this is my brother, Flavius, and we are very pleased to meet you.” Cato gave a formal little bow and pulled his brother down with him.
“And you, too,” Theodora said.
“Stop,” Flavius said, jerking himself away from his brother and making a very formal, much exaggerated bow on his own.
Theodora laughed. “I am delighted to meet the two of you,” she said, and it was obvious that she meant it. “It has been many years since the house was filled with children’s voices, and I miss it very much.”
“And this is Maelia,” Annia said.
“What excellent manners your sons have,” Theodora said. “You must be proud.”
“They are good boys,” Annia said when the boys had excused themselves from the table and gone to explore the garden.
“Can you tell me about your night?” Theodora asked. “I know it will be hard, but I would like to help you find those you were traveling with.”
Annia related the story of the fast-approaching storm, of Marcus’s quick thinking that probably saved their lives. Annia talked about Lucia and Julius, Titus and Virginia, as well.
“We will pray they are found,” Theodora said. “Let’s get you to the baths. There we will begin making inquiries. There is no better place to pick up the latest news or gossip. Perhaps others were still floating and were picked up by early morning sailors.”
“Yes,” Annia said, happy at this hopeful thought, “maybe.” Would she see Marcus again? She prayed that he and the rest of her friends had indeed survived the storm.
Chapter Seventeen
Still a mile or so from shore, Marcus and Lucia clung to a long plank, formerly part of the ship’s keel. Sitting atop the plank was Julius, acting as though he were beside the bathing pool on a warm summer’s day.
Marcus had to laugh at the child.
“Does nothing frighten him?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Lucia said. “He is beyond my reckoning. Thank you for snagging him when you did and tying us together. You saved us.”
Marcus nodded. “I’ve gone down with two ships in this very water. It is treacherous, though who would believe that now?” he said, gazing out across the sleek gray channel.
They bobbed gently as they floated toward the shore, their legs working with the current to carry them in.
“I don’t recognize the land,” Marcus said. “I fear we’ve been blown a few miles down the shore from the Porte Dubris for which we were headed.”
“I pray the shore will be friendly,” Lucia said. “And that we are not met by wild animals or wilder natives. Not everyone welcomes the Romans, you know,” she said.
“Yes, I do know that,” he said. He continued scanning the gray expanse.
“You’ll find Annia,” Lucia said. “You saved her and her children. I saw them in the little boat.”
“Did you? I never saw them. I was certain the coracle had flipped, and Annia and the boys drowned. Are you sure it was them you saw? The seas pitched high, it was dark and nearly impossible to see even a few paces away.”
“It was them,” she said.
He had to believe her.
He was thankful for Julius’s happy disposition. It could be very different. He could be a whining, clinging child.
If Julius had clung to Lucia rather than running, Marcus would not have had to chase him, and they could have all stayed together on the ship, and, perhaps, found each other more easily when it broke up.
But Lucia’s sighting gave him hope.
They made it to shore as the sun reached its zenith.
Marcus was cold, though it was midsummer, thirsty and hungry.
“I'm hungry,” little Julius said, shivering and echoing Marcus’s thoughts.
“We will eat soon,” Lucia said, then looked to Marcus for confirmation.
“Yes,” he agreed, “soon.”
Marcus scanned the water one last time before searching the shore for something with which to build a fire.
He walked down the shore, and what looked like a purple sea creature fanning out in the water caught his eye. He watched it for a moment, then walked into the water and touched it.
It was cloth. He pulled it out of the water, and gold threads glinted in the sun. He squeezed out the water from the cloth and saw the familiar line of leaves, flowers and birds and realized he was holding Maelia’s toga band filled with Annia’s handiwork.
; He was a seasoned soldier, and still, his throat felt swollen, and his nose stung. He had to squeeze his eyes to keep the tears at bay.
He would trust Lucia’s sighting and believe they were alive. He would find Annia and the children. He searched the water again, hoping to see the coracle bobbing along.
Something glinted out in the gray expanse. His heart leaped.
He waved madly, and in a few minutes, he made out two figures clinging to a long piece of wood.
The figures came closer; the tide was coming rapidly in now.
It wasn’t Annia. He could see that.
But it was Virginia and Titus.
Marcus rushed to pull them in to the shore.
“God be praised,” Lucia said, helping Virginia in. “I was afraid you two were gone. I never saw you on the ship last night.”
“It was a terrifying night,” Virginia agreed. “Where is Annia? Where are her children?”
“We don’t know,” Lucia said.
“But I found this,” Marcus said, and held up the embroidered purple band.
Lucia ran her finger over the gold threads gingerly, and held it up for Virginia to see. Virginia took it and buried her face in the wet wool.
“I saw them,” Lucia said. “I’m sure they are alive. They were all in the little boat.”
Virginia could not speak, but she nodded. “I hope,” she was finally able to get out. “I pray.”
Marcus and Titus headed off together into the wooded area just beyond the beach. They left the women and Julius to rest on the pebbly shore.
“I don’t know this area well,” Titus said, “but I have people who live near. We are, I think, a few miles west of Dubris. I saw the chalk-white cliffs gleaming in the moonlight last night before the storm.”
“I hope you are right,” Marcus said. “I hope we are only a few miles away. Lucia feels fairly certain that Annia and the boys made it safely to shore. I fear from there things might have gotten tricky if she landed at a place as desolate as this.”
“She’s a survivor,” Titus said, “a bear, like the bear she wears around her neck.”
“That she is,” Marcus agreed.
A few hundred yards up from the water, Titus came upon a stream. “Water. Fresh, too,” he said after tasting it.
Marcus hurried back to the beach to get the women and Julius.
But before he had gone even a few yards, he nearly ran over Julius, who had, apparently, been following him since he left. Lucia puffed behind, chasing him, followed by Virginia.
“The child just doesn’t stop,” Lucia said, smiling in wonder.
“No,” Virginia said, sardonic, “he doesn’t.”
“I have good news,” Marcus said. “Titus found water.”
They followed him, excited by the prospect.
After drinking their fill, they went in search of food.
It was summer, and the women found wild blueberries growing in the woods while Marcus found and whittled a stick to pierce the fat fish swimming in the stream.
Titus found the necessary flint—abundant in the area—to strike against the iron knob he had salvaged from his door-raft. Titus was ready to make a cooking fire.
Marcus thanked his heavenly Father for Titus’s resourcefulness.
“You would have made a good soldier,” he said to Titus.
Titus smiled and worked the fire patiently and blew it a bit until soon the sparks caught and a small fire burned.
Virginia helped him, gathering twigs and sticks and feeding it until it was big enough to cook the fish. Then she fashioned a spit and held the fish over the fire, toasting it evenly on each side.
Marcus tried his hand at cooking, but his fish landed with a sizzle and a plop in the fire.
“Not much of a cook are you?” Virginia said, rescuing his fish for him.
“You never rest, do you?” Marcus asked shaking his head. “Could I ever do anything that would please you?”
He had been joking, but Virginia became suddenly serious.
“Find Annia and her boys,” she said. “Take her home. Reunite her with her mother and father. Then,” she continued, her gaze penetrating, “marry her. She can stand no more pain in her life, so you will spend your life protecting her from any further pain. And if you don’t, if you cause her any further pain, any at all, I will hunt you relentlessly, and make certain that you never—”
“Stop,” Titus interjected. “You’ve said enough, Virginia. Marcus saved her life once. Why would you think he wouldn’t do it again?”
He motioned Marcus to the fire. Marcus was relieved. Virginia’s anger at him was very real. What, exactly, had he done to deserve her ire?
“Did they pay you to come after her baby?” Virginia asked, following them to the fire, her eyes flashing.
Marcus had to be honest with her and with himself.
“Yes,” he said, “Janius did.”
He felt the tension increase.
“I’ve heard as much,” Virginia said. “Rome is very large, but Rome is very small.”
“Familiar words,” Marcus said.
“I can tell you who said it.”
“Nona?” Marcus said. “How do you know Nona?”
“She is my mother’s sister,” Virginia said.
“Nona came and stayed at your house? It was you who kept her and Flavius safe while she waited to take him home to her mother?”
“Yes,” Virginia said, “it was.”
Titus’s mouth was set in a grim line.
Marcus sat heavily down beside Virginia.
“I wasn’t sure I believed in my mother’s mission,” he said. “I did it—I saved the babies, but it didn’t make sense to me. How could saving a few babies make even a small dent in the thousands of babies lost to slavery every year?
“And then I met Annia. She went after her baby and fought like a bear. And I realized that even one was worth fighting for. I realized then that some things were more important than valor on the battlefield, that loving someone so hard that you were willing to give your life for that person was worth more than any power or position I might be able to gain as a prefect, or general, or commander.
“Annia saved my life, and she doesn’t even know it. Before I saw her that night, I was willing to believe Galerius Janius. I accepted pay to take the baby from an adulteress. I knew that I would actually be delivering the baby to my mother’s household. But I felt somewhat justified in taking the baby away from its mother. I’m ashamed to say that now, but it’s true. But when I saw Annia—when I remembered who she was—when I spent only a few hours with her, I realized what a fool I had been. I was able to see Galerius Janius for what he was. And I was able to see the path down which I headed with alarming clarity.”
“You are not, then, the hero Annia thinks you to be,” Virginia said.
“No,” Marcus said, his head down, “I’m not.”
“Well,” Virginia said, “you’re more brave than I thought. At least you admitted your shortcomings. To me, at least. And will you admit them to Annia?”
“I will lose her if I do,” Marcus said. “I don’t want to lose her.”
“Yes,” Virginia said, “you probably will lose her if you tell her. But I guarantee you something else. You will definitely lose her if you don’t.”
Marcus cooked his fish in silence.
He didn’t want to think about it.
Why did things have to be so complicated?
When he came home from the army after having served twenty years, he was not ready to retire.
Retirement meant managing a villa, but without a family of his own, why would he want to do that? His father had wanted Marcus to stay in Britain and manage the family estate.
But Marcus had been stub
born. “I’m not finished with my career yet,” he’d told his father, hinting to him that power and position were his in Rome if he were patient.
So, upon his return to Rome, he planned to serve as a commander of the Vigiles until he reached his goal: to be made a prefect of the Vigiles and then the highest office, the Praetorian Guard.
It was true. That had been his goal.
Until he met Annia.
When he first met Galerius Janius, he believed the man could help him gain the position he wanted.
Janius had hinted at such. He had, after all, married the emperor’s cousin.
“My wife cheated on me. She spawned a child, and is trying to pass it off as mine,” Galerius Janius had told him.
When Marcus was introduced to the new wife of Galerius Janius, Marcus believed her to be a good choice. She was beautiful, she was wealthy and she was nearly ready to bear his child.
Galerius Janius convinced him he deserved this new wife.
He convinced Marcus that he did not deserve to have the child born of his new wife lose any of the dowry she brought into the marriage.
What did it matter that his new wife was six months gone when the marriage was made legal and that a mere three months later his adulteress former wife had given birth?
Did that make the child any less unworthy?
The child could, at any time, come back and claim that the father was Janius. Janius would then be forced to divide his wife’s fortune with a child that was not even his.
No. The child must be exposed.
It was the only fair thing to be done for Galerius Janius.
And in return?
Janius would whisper into the ear of the emperor, and Marcus would be made head of the Praetorian Guard.
The deal was sealed with gold coins. And then Marcus met Annia.
In one night. Everything changed.
Marcus believed Annia to be innocent.
The fact that Galerius Janius fell out of favor with the emperor had not changed things for him. At all. He made his decision for Annia before he discovered that.
And, to complicate matters further, the senator had stepped in at just that time, spoken to the emperor Claudius on his behalf and had seen to it that he was made prefect of the Vigiles.
