by Sandi Rog
A frown came over his face. He shifted and slumped against the column, staring at the ground.
Her heart sank. From his reaction, she could only assume the worst. “Are they . . . dead?”
He kicked a pebble. Closing his eyes, he nodded. He sat heavily on the porch and ran his hands through his hair.
She stared into her bowl. She knew how painful it was to lose a parent. But to lose both of them, that had to be much worse. She wanted to make him feel better, but knew she couldn’t, so she said the only words that came to mind. “That’s sad.”
After a moment of silence, she held the grapes out to him again.
This time he took one, and she sat down next to him.
He spit a pip into the small courtyard next to the porch.
“My daddy is dead too,” she said. “They killed him because he followed a man named Jesus.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “Your daddy was a Christian?”
She nodded.
“I’m a Christian.” His eyes widened.
She nearly choked on her grape. “You better not tell anyone, or they’ll kill you too.” She glanced around them, looking for any listeners. Thankfully, they were alone.
“I’m not afraid of anyone.” His eyes flashed. “Let them do what they want.” He flung another pip. He winced and put his hand against his chest, massaging it.
She shuddered at his anger, even though it wasn’t directed toward her.
After a long pause, he spoke. “Who killed him?” This time his tone was gentle.
She gazed down at the plump grapes, losing her appetite as she thought about that day. “My grandfather did it. They tied Mpampas to his horse and dragged him away. I saw it happen.” Her eyes watered and her nose burned as she tried not to cry. Thinking of it made her stomach hurt. She pulled a thin leather band from her hair. “I found this.” She held it up for him to see. “It was my mpampas’s.”
She wound the thin band around her fingers and held it to her nose, taking in Mpampas’s scent. “I found it in the dirt where the horse dragged him away. He wore it around his head.” She stared at the ground. Tears slipped down her cheeks and splattered onto the porch. “My poor mpampas.” She wiped away her tears. It was very naughty to cry for Mpampas, but she couldn’t help it. “Poor . . . Mpampas.”
The boy sat with his shoulders slumped and a frown on his face. He took the bowl and handed her a grape. “What’s your name?”
“Alethea.” She sniffed and wiped her nose.
“How old are you?”
“Seven.”
“I’m David.”
“Please don’t tell anyone that you’re a Christian. I don’t want you to die too.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he handed her another grape and ate one himself.
She sat on the porch for a long time, eating grapes with David. She liked the way his jaw moved when he chewed. It was a strong jaw, the kind that suited a boy like him, definitely not a girl’s jaw. She became lost in his clear eyes. So much like Mpampas. Mpampas would look down on her and his eyes would light up with a smile. She wondered if the same would happen with David.
He glanced at her.
Her heart quickened and she looked away.
He didn’t seem to mind her staring, and he even did the same. Every time she looked up, there he sat, gazing at her. His eyes seemed to be smiling. Just like Mpampas.
A grin tugged at her lips as she slowly lifted her gaze back to his.
He looked away and spat out a pip.
She ate another grape and watched birds fly overhead. It was as though her loneliness flew away with them. Their singing sparked a hint of joy deep within her. She wanted to hang on to this moment for as long as she could.
She leaned in close to David. “Shall I sing a song?”
He raised a questioning brow.
“It’s a song my mpampas used to sing.”
From his reaction, she figured he wasn’t interested. But that didn’t bother her. Once he heard her voice, he would want her to sing. Just like Mpampas and the rest of the family.
He studied her with those familiar blue eyes, but he finally half smiled and nodded.
The dimples in his cheeks snagged her attention as she sprang to her feet.
Her soft voice amplified off the arches along the portico and sent a chill up her spine. The Greek words dripped off her lips like the sweet juice from a grape.
“Oh, if I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest.
Yes, I would wander far off
And remain in the wilderness.
I would hurry to my escape
Far away from wind and storms.”
She sang louder, hoping to make David smile again. She glided along the porch, the skirt of her stola waving and dancing to the rhythm. Her fingers fluttered in the air to the music, and she rocked back and forth, watching her sash float around her. The high note was coming, her favorite. Surely, he would smile now. She hit it hard, her own voice surprising her. Beautiful.
Hoping to catch a smile, she turned toward David, but he hovered over the bowl with bulging cheeks and gobbled down more grapes.
She spun around and twirled her sash in circles above his head, hoping to gain his attention, giggling between lyrics. Strands of his hair lit up like gold from the sun’s rays, matching her bracelets. She wanted to touch it, but she didn’t dare.
She skipped around him.
“Here, catch.” Without warning, he tossed a grape.
To her surprise, she caught it. She popped it into her mouth with glee.
His face lit up with a big smile, exposing those wonderful dimples, his eyes shining.
She grasped the ends of her sash and whirled away, singing the same tune. She glanced over her shoulder at him.
He lifted his face to the sun. To her delight, he laughed. With the back of his hand, he wiped away some juice that dripped from the corner of his mouth.
“What’s your name, boy?”
Alethea froze at the familiar voice.
Mamma.
David sprang to his feet, holding his chest.
From the tone of her voice, they were in trouble. For what, she didn’t know.
Her mamma stood in the doorway with Paulus on her slender hip. Alethea wondered how much her little brother missed Mpampas. Paulus called for him on occasion, but he was too young to understand that he would never see Mpampas again.
Mamma’s lips pinched together in an agitated frown.
“David.”
“David?” Her mouth turned down as though she just tasted a sour grape. “That’s not the name they gave you when you were purchased, is it?”
Alethea’s eyes darted to David.
He focused his gaze on the bowl, and a long uneasy pause filled the air before he answered. “Damonus.” He cleared his throat. “The name is Damonus.”
Her mamma handed Paulus to a female slave who appeared in the doorway. She then turned and looked down her nose at David. “You will work for me until you’re well.” She wagged a slender finger at Alethea. “You may dance and sing for your grandfather and the rest of the family, but certainly not for a slave. It’s improper.” She glanced in David’s direction.
He stared at the bowl, studying the grapes as if he’d never seen them before. His eyes shifted to the ground, not once making eye contact with Mamma.
Alethea glanced down in the same direction to see what he might be looking at, but saw nothing of interest other than the large, beige stones beneath their feet.
She glanced back up, and Mamma’s eyes bore into hers. “I don’t want to see this kind of behavior from you again.” She put her hands on her hips and raised a brow. “Is that understood?”
Alethea didn’t realize she had done anything wrong. She used to sing and dance for Mpampas and the rest of the family often, but of course, they weren’t slaves. She curtseyed and with a small voice said, “Yes, Mamma.”
Mamma turned toward David. �
�As for you, boy, you will refer to me as ‘Mistress.’ The men, you will refer to as ‘Lord’ or ‘Master.’ You will also show the same respect toward my daughter.” She waited with folded arms for a response.
“Yes—yes, mistress.”
“Good.”
She knelt down and pulled Alethea to her. Her look softened. “Where is Portia? You shouldn’t be out here alone with this boy.”
“She probably thinks I’m still in my lessons.”
Mamma raised a brow and nodded. “Yes, she probably does, of course.” She brushed a curl from Alethea’s face. “You are just a child, but if you want to be a proper lady, you must behave like one.” She sighed and half smiled. “I must say, it’s nice to have our Aucella back.” She stood to leave. “I’ll send Portia to you.”
Mamma shot David a haughty glance. She turned with her nose in the air, went inside, and closed the door.
David’s eyes flashed at Alethea. He thrust the bowl into her midriff and marched away.
What had she done? Why was he angry with her? She followed him through the small courtyard.
He kicked a small statue, making it fall over and crack. He marched through the gate, turned away from the stables, and headed into the bare field to his right where Alethea and the other children played.
Halfway through the field, he stopped, turned, and glared at her.
She stood motionless, then took a step in his direction. When he did nothing, she took another deliberate step.
He turned away, kicked hard at the dirt, and buckled over, grabbing his ribs.
She ran up to him.
“Leave me alone,” he said between clenched teeth, his face wincing in pain.
Hurt, she backed away. She had lost her new friend.
He slowly straightened, staring past her as he took in a careful, long, deep breath. He then turned to go, his hands clenched in fists. The glare of the sun reflected off the golden armband just above his elbow.
Beyond the field to their left, a forest of trees spread to the wall. To the right of the trees, south of the field, David wound his way to the top of a mossy hill and gazed over Grandfather’s wall.
Alethea held the bowl against her hip. Heart in her throat, she decided the trees looked more inviting than David. Staying near the boy, she picked a few of the flowers—weeds, her mamma called them—and poked several in her hair. When she spun around, David was watching her. She hesitated, then shyly smiled and waved.
He half grinned, sending her a thrill of hope. She hadn’t lost her friend after all. Massaging his ribs, he turned back toward the wall.
Later as she strolled to the house, she watched David from the corner of her eye. She wasn’t certain, but she thought he might be crying. He sat on top of the hill with his hands in his hair, and his shoulders trembled.
He must be crying for his mamma and mpampas. She wanted to go to him, but she sensed he wanted to be alone, so she sat down where she was. In the middle of the dirt field, with David’s back to her, she hugged her knees to her chin. As she watched him cry, the wind drew her attention to the trees. Their leaves rustled and their branches bowed with sadness. A small rain cloud in the distance wept over the countryside. She looked at the flowers she had collected. Were they sad too?
Her thoughts turned to her grandfather who had caused so much grief. She used to love him, until he took away the one she loved most. Mpampas’s smile and blue eyes flashed through her mind. His brown curly locks always gave him a messy appearance, but he had been a handsome man, and strong. She remembered sitting on his arm after he scooped her up from the floor. His laughter, the twinkle in his eyes, and the stories about his God turned over in her mind. He’d never hold her again. She’d never know the strength of his arms, the comfort when he wrapped her in them. She would never again be his Aucella.
A lump came to her throat and her nose burned as hot tears welled in her eyes. She burst into sobs and wept for Mpampas. Sorrow raked through her, making her body tremble, and she couldn’t stop crying. Thankfully, no one else was around to see as tears flowed down her cheeks and her heart released the hurt she had been so afraid to set free. Everyone hated Mpampas and rejoiced in his death, but she would love him forever and ever. She loved him much more than she loved Grandfather. She loved Mpampas more than there were stars in the sky and more than there was sand on the ground.
She wiped her cheeks, looked down at her tear-stained hands, and recalled Mpampas’s words.
“He keeps your tears in his bottle.”
She wondered who cared enough to keep her tears in his bottle. Mpampas or his God?
four
Alethea’s stomach roiled at the thought of seeing Grandfather. It had been a while since she had to join the other children and serve the adults, but today her mamma made a point of her helping again, so she carried a tray of food into the dining chamber.
“Out of my way, twig.” Vibia shoved by her. She walked toward Grandfather’s table, her lips turned up into a smug grin.
Alethea held tight to her tray and glared at her cousin. She turned back to her task and spotted David out of the corner of her eye. He fanned Mamma with a giant peacock fan while she reclined on a settee in front of a small table, waiting to be served. His eyes met hers and a smile tugged at Alethea’s lips, but she forced it away. She didn’t want anyone to know about their special friendship.
“That’s enough, boy.” Mamma waved her hand. “Leave us.”
Despite the heavy tray quivering in her arms, Alethea watched David leave. Hopefully, she’d be able to talk with him again soon. The moment he disappeared through the door, an empty feeling settled in her stomach. She set one of the heavy platters of cold meat on a small table.
“Aucella.” Her grandfather’s voice boomed, sending a shudder down her spine. She had dreaded the day he would call her to him. He reclined on a couch at the far end of the tables with Uncle Servius, away from the women.
Grandfather smiled. A smile that said everything was back to normal. A smile that said killing her mpampas was of no concern. “I hear you’ve been singing again.”
Her stomach tied into one great knot.
“Come, let me put my arms around you, and we’ll sing one of our favorite Latin pieces.” He motioned to the others around the tables. “Certainly it will give everyone great pleasure to have such fine entertainment as we dine.”
She swallowed hard. How could she sing for him, let alone stand the feel of his arms around her? Having avoided him successfully these four weeks, she now came face to face with her grandfather-turned-monster. To think, she used to run freely into his embrace and laugh without a worry in the world. If he was powerful enough to take her father’s life, he could take her life as quickly as Zeus could say his name.
Her hands trembled as she placed the last platter of vegetables on the table, nearly knocking over one of the goblets. Alethea hesitated and stepped back. She must obey. The thought of Grandfather’s punishment made her heart clench.
“What’s wrong with you, child?” Grandfather frowned. “Come to me.”
She willed her body to move and took a step toward her grandfather. Small strands of his fake blond hair combed forward reminded her of the Medusa in the entry hall. What if his stare caused her to turn to stone? Or suppose he tied her to a horse?
She took another tentative step, then stopped, unable to make her feet move any farther. A cold chill shuddered through her entire body and she froze. Had she turned to stone?
Grandfather straightened. His eyes widened and he slammed his fist down on the table. Alethea jumped as did everyone who reclined on the couches, including Uncle Servius.
“Do not defy me, Aucella.” He then settled back against the cushions all fluffy and pretty against his hard ugly frame. “Come to your grandfather like you always do, and let’s sing,” he said with a false calm she recognized.
The dread on the faces of those around the tables made Alethea’s own terror grow as great as Rome itself. If
Uncle Servius, Aunt Fabia, and Mamma were afraid, then certainly she had reason to be afraid. Everyone’s eyes were on her, urging her to obey. Everyone but Mamma’s. If only Mamma would meet her gaze and let her know everything would be well. But Mamma stared at her plate, unwilling to give Alethea any reassurance, which meant that everything was not well. Why wasn’t Mamma looking at her? Why couldn’t Alethea move? Hopelessness swallowed her, and she was certain Grandfather would put her to death for not joining him in song. She tried to force her legs to move, but they wouldn’t.
She imagined snakes growing from Grandfather’s head, while Mother, Grandmother, and Uncle Servius hardened into stone images. No one could help her. The silence buzzed through the room. Her breathing echoed in her ears. She stood alone against this terrible monster as his face reddened with rage.
Mpampas. Gone.
Death. All around.
Inside herself, she sank into a black abyss. Alethea threw out her hands and screamed in wild terror. Would anyone help her? She searched their shocked faces as the horror escaped her throat in a shrill cry.
Vibia stopped setting Grandfather’s table and snickered. Aunt Fabia stopped in the midst of taking a dainty bite of food. Grandmother gaped, and her mamma continued to face her plate, eyes clenched shut against the high shrill of Alethea’s voice. Uncle Servius stared, eyebrows raised. And Grandfather sat frozen with his mouth half open, as Alethea’s scream echoed off the walls.
Out of breath, her long scream died to a hoarse whisper in the depths of her throat. No one rescued her. She gasped and bolted from the room. She ran to the tablinum and wrapped herself in the thick massive curtains, hoping nobody would find her and force her to return.
“You frightened the poor child!” Grandmother’s voice carried from the dining chamber. “You can’t expect her to sing if you frighten her so.”
Alethea wiped her tears and nose on the curtains as she listened. The only person in the household who wasn’t afraid of Grandfather was Grandmother Renata.
“She will not defy me!” Grandfather shouted. “Why did she scream at me? I am not a demon.”
