by Lynne Gentry
49
THE NEXT TIME LISBETH emerged from a drug-induced sleep, the room smelled like an order of sizzling fajitas. She turned her head slowly to locate the source. Someone new had joined Metras in his mission to nurse her back to health.
Tonight it was Candia and Arria, the abandoned senator’s wife. Arria had been no more than a frightened skeleton clutching a dead baby when Cyprian allowed her to trail in with the repentant church members. Now she crouched confidently by a small brazier. Her filthy silk stola had been replaced by a clean, simple woolen tunic. Her matted hair had been washed and combed. Her cheekbones no longer protruded like jagged cliffs. Still, the sprinkle of brown scabs across her porcelain face made it impossible to forget she’d only recently survived the plague. This woman frying onions was just barely well. She really should have been convalescing and recovering from her own losses. Instead, here she was, preparing another poultice for Lisbeth’s foot.
Lisbeth’s stomach rumbled. Not with hunger, but with the shame of having so quickly judged another.
“Are you thirsty?” Arria asked when she noticed Lisbeth was awake.
Lisbeth’s tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, and her throat felt as if big scoops of ash had clogged her vocal cords, so she just nodded.
Arria brought her a cupful of something steaming with the stink of a dusty homecoming mum. “It’s feverfew,” she said in response to Lisbeth’s wrinkled nose. She slid her hand beneath Lisbeth’s shoulders and elevated her head slowly. “Metras says it will help purge the inflammation in your foot and ease the pain in your head.”
“What does it matter?”
“You are more fortunate than most. There are many in this home who love you.”
“Love? When the world can be lost in a blink of an eye, does anyone have the luxury of love?”
“That’s all we have.” Arria quickly lowered her eyes, but not before Lisbeth saw the woman was struggling with her own pain.
“I’m sorry.” Lisbeth had spent her whole career repairing flesh. It was foolish to think her wounded soul could be so easily stitched together with kindness and a few leafy weeds crumbled into water. “My daughter and I parted on such caustic terms. What if . . .”
“You never see her again?”
Lisbeth nodded.
“The same kind people who helped me carry on will help you.”
Tears took Lisbeth to a place words could not. Arria waited patiently. When Lisbeth had cried herself dry, the woman offered her a cloth for her nose and more of the steaming tea.
“This won’t bring your daughter home, but it will help ease the pain.” She lifted the cup to Lisbeth’s lips and Lisbeth did her best to choke down a few sips of the third-century version of ibuprofen.
The senator’s wife eased Lisbeth’s head back to the pillow. “Do you think your stomach could handle some broth?”
Lisbeth nodded. “Why are you helping me?”
“I owe it to you.”
“That’s impossible. Until a few days ago, we’d never even met.”
“When my little girl became ill, my husband was afraid she would infect the rest of our household. I begged for mercy but he turned us out. None of my wealthy friends would take us in. We had nowhere to go and when the end came for my baby, I couldn’t leave my dead child on the streets for the wild dogs.” Arria’s watery eyes slid gratefully to Lisbeth. “I was lost. Without hope. Then the very man whom my husband had voted to exile took me in.”
A cold shudder scampered up Lisbeth’s spine. She couldn’t speak. She could only stare at the contrite woman standing before her.
“My husband was there when Caecilianus was condemned to death. Everyone in this church loved the old bishop and his wife. And yet they bathed me and fed me when I could not care for myself.” She swiped her wet cheek. “Were it not for the mercy extended by my enemies, I would be dead.” Arria looked directly into Lisbeth’s eyes. “I’m so sorry for my part in what was done to you and your family.” She could barely continue. “What my husband and others in high places are saying about Christians is not true. They are kind and forgiving. Metras built a little box for my daughter and then he buried my Sophie beneath the palms in the corner of the garden.” She dipped a cloth in the basin and began to gently wash Lisbeth’s face. “I will never forget what it feels like to be forgiven.”
Forgiven? The word fell softly upon Lisbeth, wrapping her in a cloak of warmth. Cold embers stirred. Recollections of kindnesses she did not deserve but had received on her first voyage into the third century. She’d dropped into this world alone, afraid, and so angry she’d been almost impossible to deal with. And yet Ruth and Caecilianus, enemies she thought at first, had been exceptionally patient and kind. Taking her in. Making her feel welcome. Even when the end came for Ruth, the amazing woman was thinking more about Lisbeth than she was herself. She had forgiven every hurtful word Lisbeth had hurled at her, calling her “friend” with her last breath.
As Lisbeth watched the senator’s wife hold the clean muslin pouch while Candia carefully ladled in hot onions, she knew she was once again the recipient of undeserved kindnesses. After all, she was the one who’d condemned Cyprian’s decision to forgive those who’d betrayed him, and yet those very same people were now risking their lives to save hers. How could she dare condemn this woman for her ill-informed decisions when her own had caused so much pain?
Candia reluctantly interrupted her pondering and gently removed the cooled poultice from Lisbeth’s foot. “I think we’re making progress. It’s not nearly as red.”
“It’s much better, and I think my fever has broken.” Lisbeth flexed her foot, surprised at what little pain remained. “Thank you.” She reached for Arria’s hand and looked at Candia. “Both of you.” Maybe it was time she let someone share her burden. “Help me find my daughter.”
Uncertain looks swiveled between Candia and the senator’s wife. It was obvious neither of them wanted to upset her, but it was too late. She’d passed that point a couple of days ago.
Candia said softly, “My husband is looking for her. He will do his best to find her.”
“Lie back,” Arria said. “Rest.”
“I can’t rest.”
“Give my husband a chance,” Candia said.
“If they’re not back within the hour, I’m going.”
“If they don’t return soon, we’re both going,” Candia said.
Lisbeth did as she was told. But her mind refused to turn off the questions. Where was Maggie? Titus had told Lisbeth that people were talking about a girl who had stolen the prisoners with the help of a young man. Titus was convinced Maggie and Barek had found some secret place to hide Lisbeth’s parents until the riots calmed down. Lisbeth wasn’t so sure.
Dread thick as atrial sludge coursed through her body. If Maggie was safe, surely she or Barek would have gotten word back to Titus. Lisbeth could only hope the silence meant Barek had taken Maggie and her grandparents to the well. Oh, God. Let it be so.
Titus bustled into the room, followed closely by Metras, who was leaning heavily upon his cane. “Can’t it wait until she’s stronger?” Metras huffed in his effort to keep up.
“No. It cannot.” Titus came to Lisbeth’s bedside. “Good. I see you’re awake.” He took her hand. “Are you feeling better, my dear?”
“Yes. Thank you, Titus. And thank you for all you’ve done for me.”
He dismissed her appreciation with a wave of his hand. “I have news if you feel up to hearing it.” His low, urgent voice caused her blood pressure to spike. Something was wrong.
“Is it Maggie?”
He shook his head. “I went to check on Cyprian.” He pressed her shoulder. “Lie down. He is well.”
She was too anxious to settle back on the pillows. “When can I see him?”
“He doesn’t want you to risk coming to his villa, where he is being held under house arrest. Instead, he asks that I take his family to the country.”
“How wil
l he meet us there?” She sat forward. “Can you free him?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Would Cyprian ever comprehend the danger he was in? “And leave him to face Maximus alone? I won’t do it.” Lisbeth flinched when the heat of the fresh poultice lightly touched her heel. “Besides, I’m not going anywhere without my daughter.” She gritted her teeth as Candia wrapped the muslin tight.
“Your husband has devised a clever plan for your reunion with your loved ones.” Titus told her of Maggie’s suspected location and Cyprian’s plan to release the grain stores to create a smoke screen. “I’ve sent Pontius and Tappo to carry it out. They are at the docks as we speak. With any luck, we should have your family safely rounded up within the hour.”
Lisbeth made no effort to hide her relief. Barek would throw himself in front of a train for Maggie, and from the way Eggie looked at her daughter, Lisbeth suspected he’d do the same. They were clever young men if they’d managed to save her mother from the arena. If they had indeed made it to the safety of Barek’s old home, she could only hope they’d hear about the grain and employ that same resourcefulness to return her daughter to her alive and well.
50
MAGGIE KICKED AGAINST THE two men hauling her away from the free-for-all at the harbor. “Pontius, wait!”
Her father’s best friend and a guy named Tappo ducked into an empty warehouse and dropped Maggie to her feet. She flung off the heavy cloak they’d used to subdue her, furious that so far neither of them had been willing to listen. “What’s going on?”
Pontius motioned for her to keep it down. Tappo checked to make sure they’d not been followed. Once he slid the heavy door shut, he leaned over and rubbed his shins where she’d landed several successful blows. “You are to come with us.”
“Where?”
“We don’t have time.”
“Time for what?” Her heart raced ahead. “Am I too late to save my father?”
Pontius straightened. “Where are the others?”
“I tried to tell you.” Maggie didn’t care how disrespectful she sounded, she was tired of never being heard. “Barek is taking Eggie to catch a ship to Rome and my grandparents are at the dye shop with—” The look on Pontius’s face stopped her cold. “What? Tell me.”
“Why is Eggie going to Rome?”
“He’s going for help.”
Pontius spoke to Tappo. “Take Maggie with you. I’ll go back for the boy and the healer.” Pontius refused to tell her more than that her father was incarcerated and her mother suffered with a fever from an injury.
“Mom’s sick? Where is she?”
Pontius’s condescending pat was hardly reassuring, but for now she must cling to the fact that her father was still directing the actions of his followers and somewhere in the city her mother was still alive. That meant trusting Pontius and Tappo to deliver them all safely.
Maggie followed Tappo into the night. The abandoned streets leading away from the harbor bore evidence of someone’s frustration. Not only had the stacked and rotting bodies been tossed about and trampled, but here and there smoke rose from smoldering piles of furniture and household goods. Ugly words condemning Rome had been painted on the stucco. If the mob at the grain ship had done this, what would they do once they realized most of the grain was sailing to the capital?
Maggie swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She knew what would happen next. When starvation sent the masses pounding on the doors of the nobility, Rome would blame the Christians.
A woman’s screams echoed in the eerie silence. Tappo’s massive arm pressed Maggie into the shadows. Up ahead, two soldiers with torches dragged a woman bound at the wrists from a shop. Her body bounced over the curb and landed with a thud on the cobblestones.
The redheaded soldier snagged the woman under the arm and lifted her to her feet. Her dress was shredded and bloody. “Bow toward the temple!” the soldier shouted in the woman’s bruised face.
Maggie clasped her hand over her mouth to capture a gasp. This was the same soldier who’d chased her and Barek.
“Bow, dog!” The soldier smacked the woman hard.
The wild-eyed captive stumbled backward, caught her balance before falling, and then raised her bloody chin. “I will never bow to the gods of Rome.”
“Are you a Christian?” he demanded. The blame had already started.
“I have been born again,” she proclaimed without hesitation. “Go ahead, kill me. I will be raised in death.”
“Fool!” The soldier raised his whip and brought the lash down hard across the woman’s face. She fell to her knees.
“No!” Maggie broke free of Tappo and ran toward the woman. “Stop!”
The redhead wheeled. “There you are!” His whiplash curled around Maggie’s wrist. One swift jerk and he had reeled Maggie in.
Tappo burst from the shadows and charged headfirst toward the redhead. “Let her go!”
Maggie watched in horror as the soldier noticed Tappo’s angry approach. The soldier shoved her to the ground. In one well-trained movement, he spun, planted his feet, and drew his sword.
Maggie scrambled to her feet. “No, Tappo!”
“Run!” Tappo shouted. “Now!”
Maggie glanced at the soldier. The smile on his mouth had grown wide. She did as Tappo ordered and ran. She heard the plunge of the soldier’s blade into Tappo’s body. Tappo cried out. Maggie stopped and glanced over her shoulder. Tappo staggered, then fell back upon the pavers. The soldier put his foot on Tappo’s chest and yanked the blade from his fallen body. Then he promptly turned and thrust his sword into the woman. The entire encounter had lasted less than twenty seconds.
The soldier withdrew his bloody sword and looked around for Maggie. Sweat dripped from his face. He spotted her standing in the middle of the street. “I’ve got something even better for you.” With a cough he sheathed his sword and swiped his eyes. He started for her but had to stop and catch his breath.
Maggie took advantage of his coughing fit and turned toward the hill where the patricians lived. She did not stop running until she burst through the door of the only man who could help her find her parents.
51
TITUS!”
The scream coming from the atrium of Titus’s villa brought Lisbeth from her bed. Her bandaged foot did not slow her as she pushed past Candia and Arria. “Maggie!”
“Mom!” Maggie fell into her arms. “It was awful, Mom. Awful. I think I outran him, but I’m not sure.”
“Outran who?”
“The redheaded soldier.”
Titus immediately sent men to guard his front gate while Lisbeth led Maggie to her room.
“Tell me everything.” Lisbeth held Maggie as the horrible story of Tappo’s death poured out.
“I’m sorry, Mom. So sorry.” Gut-wrenching sobs erupted from Maggie.
Lisbeth wrapped her arms tighter, as if her touch could purge the poison of shame and guilt forever from her daughter’s heart. “I love you, Maggie.”
“I shouldn’t have come.”
Lisbeth thought hard on how to counter this despair. She wanted to say something healing. Something Maggie could repeat and forever banish these regrets. “You came here because love never gives up.”
Maggie hugged her back. “I’m glad you never gave up on me.”
“I’ll have to tell Candia about her husband.”
“No. This is my fault. I’ll tell her.”
Lisbeth went to the door and asked people to squeeze into her room. Hushed and nervous, barely daring to exchange fearful glances, they listened as Maggie poured out the story of saving the emperor’s grandson. When she told of Tappo’s sacrificial death, horrified gasps sucked the air from the room. Candia, who’d been feeding her daughter stewed dates, slowly put down her spoon and drew her daughter into her lap. Throughout the rest of Maggie’s careful and kind recitation, Tappo’s wife remained stoic, probably in too much shock to absorb the fact that her life would never be the same.
Lisbeth surveyed the fearful faces. When the soldiers came, these people would scatter as quickly as they had when Felicissimus offered them his cheap writs. She couldn’t let everything Cyprian had worked for fall apart. “Metras, assemble the church within these walls. Once I’ve slipped out, bar the doors.”
Maggie swiped her nose. “Where are you going?”
“To your father.”
“It’s not safe and you can’t run on that foot,” Maggie argued.
“Sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, right?” Lisbeth kissed Maggie’s forehead. “The church needs him. We need him.”
“You’re not going without me,” Maggie said.
“Or me!” Barek called over the crowd. The sea of people parted. In the doorway, Barek and Papa supported Mama between them. Behind them stood Iltani, Tabari, and Kardide.
“Barek!” Maggie flew to him. “You’re safe.”
* * *
“MAMA?” LISBETH hurried over to her mother, surprised at how little pain she felt in her foot. Metras and his crew had done a remarkable job. “When I saw you at the trial, I knew you hadn’t had enough Cipro, but you look like the worst is over,” she said between kisses and tears.
“Lots of honey water with a pinch of basil and saffron.” Papa looked at Maggie. “And a good little nurse.”
“Papa?” Lisbeth embraced them both. “I didn’t think I would see either of you again.”
“You wouldn’t have were it not for that stubborn daughter of yours and this fine boy. Barek put his life in jeopardy to save ours on several occasions,” Papa said.
Lisbeth turned to see Maggie and Barek wrapped in each other’s arms. Her daughter’s joy at this young man’s return was more than happiness over the safety of a good friend. Something deeper had blossomed, and Lisbeth couldn’t let herself think of how painful it was going to be to pull them apart when she took Maggie home. “Thank you, Barek.”
