The Master's Wall

by Sandi Rog

  Alethea knew she was in trouble.

  “You have blood on your stola. How did you get blood on yourself?” Grandmother glared at David. She then took Alethea’s arm in a painful grip and pulled her away toward the baths. “Portia, come.” She practically dragged Alethea along. “Someone take care of the boy.”

  Later, Alethea found herself standing in her grandfather’s office chamber. He stood before her with his hands behind his back.

  “Damonus says he saw you go over the wall, and because of the latest news about the boars being in the area, he followed you.”

  Grandfather walked toward his couch, sighing. “But I will deal with that later. Of course, we are all grateful to have you returned to us safely.” He turned. Anger clouded his dark eyes. “But what weighs heavily on my mind,” his voice was a forced calm but soon exploded, “is your horrid behavior before our guest and your betrothed!”

  His shout swept over her like a great wind, causing the hairs on her back and arms to stand on end. She held her breath and swallowed hard, standing with her hands at her sides, grasping her stola and focusing on the ground.

  “How dare you behave in such a manner!” He stepped toward her. “You will marry Demetri when I say you will. I will not accept any more dramatic outbursts!”

  “Yes, Grandfather.” Her voice didn’t even sound like her own, and she continued to stare at the ground. She now wished for death. She would be forced to marry Demetri whether she liked it or not; that was, if Grandfather didn’t kill her first.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  She looked up, staring at his chin in order to avoid his eyes.

  “Your Grandmother and I discussed the matter of your marriage to Demetri.” His voice became calm. “We, I, have decided that you are not yet ready, so he will have to wait.” He paced the floor. “In light of your recent behavior, it seems we have made the right decision.”

  Alethea let out a silent sigh of relief. She could breathe again.

  “But,” Grandfather continued, “you will be punished for your outrageous behavior.”

  Her heart sank to her knees.

  He turned and picked up a plank leaning against the wall behind the door. Grandfather motioned toward the table. “Brace yourself.” He shifted the large board in his hands.

  Her knees felt weak as she shuffled toward the marble table. She could hardly believe what was about to take place. Everything happened so fast; she barely had time to think. Tears blurred her vision, her bottom lip quivered, and her hands trembled as she gripped the table.

  “Ten lashes, save one,” Grandfather said.

  He stepped near.

  She could hear the swing of the wooden board, and it came down hard on her lower back like a heavy boulder; she cried out and didn’t think she could bear another strike.

  “One,” Grandfather said.

  Again, the boulder slammed against her back. She collapsed against the table as painful tingles ran down her spine.

  “Two.”

  This time flames raged across her bottom. She held her grip on the table, and though it felt like fire, it wasn’t as bad as when he struck her on the back.

  “Three.”

  Now her legs burned.

  “Four.”

  The hacks continued, hacks like he were chopping down a tree, and her clammy hands lost their grip on the marble table. Her screams and cries echoed off the walls and through her ears. Her face lay against the cold, hard surface of the table, and her tears mingled in with her hair and cheeks.

  After the ninth lash, he stopped.

  Grandfather, out of breath, set the paddle back against the wall behind the open door.

  Still crying, she turned slowly, aching with every move, while Grandfather glared at her.

  “You will never behave so foolishly again.” Grandfather’s voice was grave.

  Still sobbing, she nodded. Her entire backside throbbed with pain. She hated him for it, and she hadn’t even been punished yet for having gone over the wall. She trembled from the thoughts of what that might entail.

  In a rush, Demetri entered the chamber. He stopped when he saw her.

  Exposed and on display, she stood with her hands on her backside, trying to rub away the pain, her cheeks flaring with embarrassment. This was not a party or a gathering for a banquet! What was he doing here? She bit her lip to keep from screaming at him to leave. How dare he come in here and act so arrogantly before her. She did everything she could to stifle her sobs, though tears continued spilling down her cheeks.

  Demetri cleared his throat and put his hands behind his back. He quickly glanced at Alethea, then away. “Forgive my intrusion. Considering all that has taken place, I will take my leave. If I’m to arrive in Rome before nightfall, I need to go immediately. I bid you farewell.”

  “Stay one more night.” Grandfather walked toward him.

  Cornelia came to the doorway of the chamber.

  Grandfather motioned toward her. “Take Alethea to her bedchamber. She has yet to be punished for sneaking outside the villa. I want every door along the wall checked and locked, and it’s your task to learn how she managed such a feat,” Grandfather said.

  Cornelia nodded and held a quivering hand out toward Alethea.

  Did she see sympathy in her mother’s gaze? She limped next to her mother as they made their way to her bedchamber.

  “Are you in much pain?” Her mother whispered once they reached the chamber.

  Alethea shook her head, ashamed to admit just how horrible she felt.

  “Wait here.”

  Alethea nodded and sat on her bed. Pain shot up her back. She cried out and jumped to her feet. She held her breath until the pain subsided. When she felt she could move again, she turned to the bed. She would have to lie on her stomach. But could she bend over to get on the bed?

  Alethea spent the rest of the day in her chamber. After a good scolding from her grandmother, as her mother stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, she finally confessed as to how she made it over the wall. The tree was to be removed immediately, but her punishment was yet to be given. Later, Portia brought food, and she didn’t have any news about David.

  As the hours went by, Alethea thought about the beating she had received; how could she not, she was constantly reminded of it every time she tried to sit or walk.

  She remembered being thrashed by Mpampas, but it was only on her bum, and she didn’t recall ever having difficulties sitting and bending afterwards. Well, maybe sitting, but it never lasted this long.

  After a thrashing, Mpampas would always hold her and say how much he loved her and that it was his duty to teach her to obey. If she didn’t learn to obey him, she wouldn’t learn to obey the Lord. Amazing. She actually remembered what he used to say.

  At different times during the day, she heard laughter, including Demetri’s voice. He must have decided to stay. She cringed. After more hours, she finally concluded she had been forgotten.

  Later, Aunt Fabia came with Vibia to the chamber. She took one look at Alethea, gasped, and left the room.

  Vibia quietly readied herself for bed. “Demetri wanted me to tell you how sorry he was for walking in earlier, but he was worried,” Vibia whispered as she donned her night stola. “He could hear your screaming and was afraid for you.”

  “Cornelia!” Grandfather shouted from the other side of the house. “I ordered you to take care of your daughter!” The voices neared the atrium.

  “I did, Father. I ordered the slaves to remove the tree.”

  “And what have you done as punishment?”

  “I confined her to her bedchamber.”

  This was news to Alethea. Her mother had simply said for her to wait there.

  “You know as well as I do, she deserves another beating. I intend to give it to her myself.” Grandfather’s voice neared her chamber.

  Alethea trembled, and she crawled into bed. She lay on her side to avoid the bruises, pulling the covers up to her neck. She tho
ught she might pass out if she had to endure another one of his beatings.

  “I will take care of it, please don’t beat her again.” Cornelia’s voice trembled.

  “If you don’t punish her this time, I will again.” Grandfather’s voice came from the atrium.

  Her mother’s shadow appeared in the doorway. “Sit up.”

  Alethea sat up. The pain in her back and her legs beat a tremendous rhythm down her spine, but she kept still, holding her breath, hoping it would fade.

  Cornelia glanced over her shoulder at the door, then at Vibia who feigned sleep, and back at Alethea.

  “How could you be so foolish?” her mother asked in a hard whisper and with a shaky voice. “I told you not to go on the other side of the wall again, and you willfully disobeyed me. You might have been killed.” Her mother, still glancing at the door, slumped on the bed. “What were you thinking?”

  Alethea pulled at the covers. She wanted to hide, but her mother was sitting on them. “I . . . Damonus was . . . . He saw the boar . . . and . . . .”

  “Did Damonus tempt you to go over the wall?” Her mother faced Alethea with a pointed glare.

  Alethea looked up with surprise. The solution to her problem just spilled from her mother’s lips and landed right on the bed. She wondered if her mother wanted her to say yes.

  Alethea’s back and legs throbbed. Perhaps another beating would cripple her? She stared at the floor, avoiding her mother’s gaze. The lamp from the atrium cast shadows on the tiles.

  “Well,” Alethea said. “I think he just wanted to show me that he could kill the beast. He wouldn’t have allowed me to get hurt.” Alethea twisted the corner of her blanket.

  “That explains it.” Her mother stood, causing Alethea to wince from the pain. She pinched her lips together and hurried from the room, not bothering to say good night.

  Alethea’s stomach hurt. She crawled back under her covers and stared over at Vibia, who silently stared back.

  “Why didn’t you tell them sooner what that slave boy did? You wouldn’t have had to sit in your chamber all day,” Vibia whispered.

  Alethea turned on her side and faced the wall.

  Later that evening, when Vibia was already asleep, Alethea heard through the window above her bed, the sing of a whip and somebody’s cries.

  David.

  He was being flogged.

  Alethea lay in shock. She couldn’t believe what was happening.

  David cried out again.

  Lucius’s howls of laughter carried to her ears. “Get him, Titus. Show him who’s Master!” Lucius shouted above David’s screams.

  She buried her head under the covers, but she could still hear the blows and his piercing wails, and Lucius’s shrieks of joy. This was all her fault. Each lash of the cat sent stings of pain through Alethea’s mind. Torturous waves of guilt exploded within her.

  “Stop!” she shouted into her pillow. Remorse and shame brimmed forth into uncontrollable sobs.

  Cracks of the whip and David’s wails echoed in her ears. Unbearable.

  “No pain!” Titus shouted. “You don’t feel pain, Damonus!”

  The whip sang and David’s shrieks tore at Alethea’s heart.

  “Why don’t they stop?” She cried into her pillow.

  Every part of her body shook. There was no way out. The deed was done. He was paying the price for her sin.

  Finally, the lashing came to an end. Alethea pulled the covers off her head, her hair clinging to her hot, wet cheeks. Footsteps and talking carried from under her window as they probably took David back to the slaves’ quarters.

  He was silent.

  Was he dead? Had he fainted?

  Disheveled, Vibia sat up in bed, staring at her.

  Alethea turned toward the wall and wept.

  sixteen

  Weak from the scourging earlier that night, David trembled as he handed his father’s scrolls to Ace. “Please, continue to teach the others.”

  The light from the flames of a torch danced off the walls of the stables in the middle of the night, casting long shadows over Ace’s face as he took the scrolls. He stood there, studying David. Probably afraid to speak as he looked at the gashes exposed on David’s body, arms, and legs.

  Ace simply nodded and walked away, carrying with him David’s most valued possessions.

  David turned, unable to watch him disappear into the night with his father’s manuscripts. He leaned on his hands against the wall. His body ached and twitched with pain. Slaves had rubbed honey on his wounds, though he’d barely been conscious. He didn’t think he would survive the scourging. He thanked God he’d finally fainted. It had been more than he could bear, and all he could see in his mind’s eye was Alethea’s lying tongue acting as the whip.

  She was nothing but a spoiled, selfish child. How could she laugh at him while he had risked his life? How could she turn on him and their friendship? He had been there for her in every possible way, protecting her as best as he could. He cared for her like he’d cared for Sarah.

  She cared for no one but herself.

  He grabbed his bundle and slipped out of the stables. His back and chest continued to twitch with pain as he made his way toward the trees. The night sky shadowed him in a welcome cloak of darkness. He couldn’t sleep, the pain was so great. His heavy, exhausted body burned everywhere. Titus had given him the scourging, despite the fact that David said the girl had lied. Titus had believed him, but he had no choice in the matter, and he’d been unable to convince Aloysius that his precious granddaughter could do such a thing.

  But why had Titus given the beating with full force, even when he knew he was innocent? Why had Titus been so efficient in meting out his so-called punishment?

  Everything David had worked so hard for was now gone. Wiped out with one lie. He slipped between the trees. Aloysius would never trust him again. David had wanted so much to please the man in hopes that one day he might set him free. According to the law, he could have been free. Now his dream would never be realized.

  That girl! He had been a friend to her, listening to her cry on and on about her dead Mpampas, while his own parents were lost and gone forever. Not once had he ever cried to her. She probably wouldn’t have known what to do if he had. He was finished listening to her sniveling. He wouldn’t do it anymore. He wouldn’t have to.

  Today he would live as a fugitive. He’d wanted his freedom to be according to the law. Now it would be according to him.

  “Alethea,” he whispered to himself. Her name meant truth. He shook his head. She couldn’t even live up to the meaning of her name. That little liar. No, she was no Aucella either. Instead, of Little Bird, she would forever be known to him as Little Liar. He slammed his fist into a tree as the wall came into view.

  He should have known better than to become friends with such a child.

  He had worked hard to please Aloysius; he was certain the man had even grown to like him, but now it was all ruined. By her! He punched another tree.

  “Damonus.” Titus’s voice came from behind.

  David jumped and turned, hastily wiping away his tears. Every gash on his body, arms, and legs cried out in protest at the sight of their creator. He glanced around him. No shadows lurked in the trees. No one to help Titus restrain him. He’d have to outrun him. David stepped back.

  Titus didn’t make a move for him. He just stood there, watching. The moon’s light reflected off his shaved head and bracelets.

  David sensed the wall looming behind him, calling out to him. Freedom was just a few feet away. He took another step back.

  Titus nodded toward the wall. “Coward,” he said, his voice reverberating in the quiet air. He turned and walked away.

  Coward?

  David watched him go, his white tunic disappearing between the trees.

  Speechless, David dropped his bundle on the ground. He side kicked the tree next to him. He slammed his fist into it, then his other. Leaning his forehead against the bark, he pun
ched it again and again. His fists chafed against the tree, but he didn’t care. The rage inside him chafed as well. He clutched the trunk, trying to fight back the pain in his knuckles as tears burned their way to the surface. He dug his fingers into the pine, rubbing his face against it, his tears melting against the wood.

  The tree. His bridge to freedom.

  Ω

  Early the next morning, while it was still dark, Alethea got out of bed. She quietly threw on her cloak, wincing from the pain in her back. She had lain awake all night until the first sounds of the slaves walking through the plaza came to her ears.

  A dark dread hung on the air. A dread that told her she was alone. That David was gone.

  She tried to run through the hall, but the pain in her back forced her to walk. Only the slaves would be up at this time, so she had no worries about running into Grandfather or any other members of the family. Getting to the woods demanded excruciating effort from her injured back. But finally she made it to the tree. It was still there. The slaves hadn’t chopped it down yet. Its branches stretched out over the wall.

  And over David.

  He lay on his stomach, his arm and leg dangling over the side. Dried blood and gashes lined his arms, back, and shoulders. His hands were covered in dirt, and his knuckles were swollen with dried blood and bruises. Guilt ate at her like the wounds ate at his skin.

  She crept closer.

  “David?”

  Slowly, his eyes opened. He squinted, adjusting to the sun peering over the horizon and over his half-naked body. His gaze fell on her, and he dropped his head back down, as if too weary to hold it up.

  “David . . . I . . . .” She didn’t know where to start. How could she expect his forgiveness for what happened? “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, feeling like anything she said wouldn’t be good enough.

  Taking a deep breath, David pushed up, keeping his torso and legs from touching the wall. He braced himself and sprang to the ground in front of her.

  Alethea’s heart leaped to her throat and she jumped back, pain shooting up her backside.

  Unsteady on his feet, he loomed over her, and his blue eyes pierced her through.