by Sandi Rog
She almost didn’t recognize him.
His face reddened, and he pointed his finger at her, his large knuckles inches from her nose. “I saved your life from a pig! And they whipped me for it!” His voice cracked as he spoke.
He turned his back on her, searching the ground.
She stared at his wounds, his broken flesh. Cuts ran from his back to his stomach and chest. Her body went cold all over. She suddenly felt too weak to stand.
“I’m sor—”
“How could you?” David faced her again, tears in his eyes. He took a few steps back. “Now they despise me!” He paced in front of her, raking his hands through his light brown hair. His gold earring reflected the early morning light. “I have been working so hard to please them. You have undone everything with your lie.” David stopped and glared at her, the veins bulging in his neck. “I thought you were my friend?”
A chill came over her, and her stomach contracted. This was the first time he had ever called her his friend without her first having to ask. Now she had ruined everything.
“But I am your friend . . . I—”
David bent over her, silencing her. “You are not my friend,” he whispered between clenched teeth, and his eyes grew cold. “I wish that boar had ripped you to shreds.”
Her heart stopped. She took two steps back, searching his face, his eyes. Surely, he didn’t mean it. But his face was set like stone. The face of a stranger. She didn’t know him anymore. The sun cast its eerie light over his scarred body.
“Dav—”
“Call me Damonus.” He turned, grabbed a bundle from the ground, and marched through the woods, leaving her alone.
Alethea swallowed. Her throat hurt; her back hurt. She choked on her tears and limped back to the house.
Alone.
Ω
Titus would take him to the other side of the Vibian Hill. David would be banished from the villa, but at least he would never have to look at that deceitful, selfish, sniveling face again.
David followed in silence, thankful Titus hadn’t reprimanded him for his behavior. His fists throbbed with pain, and he could barely straighten his fingers. His whole body still trembled with rage, and the clotting in his throat was unbearable. He practically wheezed when he breathed as he swallowed his tears. His back and chest continued to burn, and he wanted desperately to lie down, but the pain was too great.
He knew it was time to go. He was grateful he had thought to give Ace his father’s scrolls. He knew they would be in good hands if they remained here at the villa. Ace would take care of them and keep them well hidden.
They walked through the plaza and down the hall to the atrium. He would never throw another ball into the fountain. He would never see the inside of the villa again.
So be it.
He would only miss the friends he had made. Of all the people he would miss most, he would miss the church. It had grown greater than he could have possibly imagined behind these protective walls.
After David and Titus passed the beautiful vineyard, they came to a small village at the base of the hill. Men moved about on the gravel road, doing work, carrying amphora vessels to be used for the aging of wine. He spotted a wine press inside a stone building. Marble columns shot up on each side of the sarcophagus where men stomped grapes with their bare feet. Wine poured into a collection vat next to the decorated sarcophagus that depicted images of cargo ships carrying wine to far-off lands. A potent scent of fruit lingered on the air.
They passed the winepress and soon came to a metalworker’s home where the smell of burning metal greeted them. They stopped under the awning where a man hovered close to a hot fire. Titus walked up to him, and without saying a word, the man moved aside. Titus lifted an iron rod off the wall just inside the door. It had a flat iron stamp at its end, and he held it in the fire.
“Damonus come.” Titus’s face was grim as he stared into the flames.
David came to stand by Titus. He watched in silence as the flames flickered around the stamp. Sparks flew up and died on the stone edge of the fire pit, leaving an ash residue. It reminded him of the open wounds on his body, how the whip left its residue on his skin.
After a long silence passed between them, Titus spoke. “I will continue to train you. I won’t be able to come everyday, but I will expect you to buffet your body and be ready when I return. You will still spar with Marcus and Lucius and perform your skills before Aloysius whenever he desires. That means you will return to the villa on occasion, and when you do, I will expect the best possible performance in your technique.” Titus turned the rod, and David’s stomach turned with it. The stamp glowed crimson in the flames. “You have been pleasing to Aloysius, and he was sorry to see you go, but he could not forgive the immaturity of your behavior toward his granddaughter.”
“But I—”
“I know you did no wrong, but Aloysius doesn’t want to believe me. I think he knows we told him the truth, but he won’t accept it. He loves that little girl too much.”
David hated that little girl.
“Remember what I taught you about pain?”
“Yes,” David said, fearing where this would lead.
Titus reached his hand out to David.
Tension wafted on the air like the smoke from the fire, burning his nose, and David had a sick feeling he knew what Titus was going to do. As he placed his hand in Titus’s, David willed himself to be strong and brought to memory all that Titus had taught.
The man who had been working at the fire gave him a fat stick.
“Bite down,” Titus said.
Titus took hold of David’s arm.
David bit down, but instinct made him pull away. Titus tightened his grasp on David’s arm, holding it in a vise grip. The man grabbed his other arm and twisted it behind his back. David fought to break free. The man shouted toward the street. Several men came running to help.
David struggled to breathe around the stick clenched between his teeth. He kicked and squirmed at the men hovering over him, but the more he thrashed, the more men that came to hold him down. Someone’s knee pinned him on the ground, and Titus continued to hold his right arm.
He trembled as he waited for the inevitable, all attention focused on his arm, forgetting his other wounds. Tears welled in his eyes, and he tried to fight back the sobs that burst from his throat.
Titus reached out and pulled the iron stamp out of the flames. The glow of the stamp simmered as he brought it close to David’s arm.
David cried out.
“Bite the stick,” one man shouted.
“It’ll be over soon,” another said.
David watched in horror as Titus brought the branding iron down on his upper arm. Pain scorched through his limb and heat from the iron wafted over his shoulder and ear. He cried out, his piercing wails unrecognizable. His skin melted under the scalding heat. His whole being trembled with fiery pain. He felt as though the iron would burn through to the bone.
Titus removed the branding iron and dropped it in a bucket of water.
David’s screams broke into wails, and his wails broke into sobs. He barely realized the men had released their grasp. His sweat-soaked body burned the wounds on his back and stomach that had broken open from his struggle. The smell of burnt flesh penetrated his nostrils, and the pain in his arm throbbed through his entire body, every limb and every muscle focused on that one branded piece of flesh.
He glanced down at his wound, trembling. Smoke danced around the black scar. It was in the shape of a “V” for Vibian. Only from David’s perspective, it looked like an “A” and it stood for Alethea. As he grasped his arm below the wound, anger seared through his mind for the little girl he would hate forever.
Ω
After David had time to calm down, Titus showed him around the small village. David saw it through blurred vision and barely took in the one main dirt road in its center. It really wasn’t a road at all since it came to a dead end at each side. No one was allo
wed to leave. People were bound with shackles around their ankles, and David had them around his ankles now too. He was tired and weak from the night and morning of torture. He longed to lie down in the field Titus pointed out to him beyond the homes. Farm animals grazed, and crops sprouted from the field where several women bent over working. Children played in a large pond, not far from where the women worked, splashing each other without a care or worry in the world.
Titus led David to a small house set apart from the others where a thin Ethiopian woman came to the door. She looked down at David with large brown eyes.
“This is the boy,” Titus said.
The woman smiled. “Oh yes. It’s nice to meet you.” She nodded toward David.
David forced a smile, only to be kind to the woman. Really, he felt like weeping as he clasped his arm below the fresh wound. It throbbed and burned, burned and throbbed.
“Come in here. I’ll show you where you’ll sleep.”
David followed the woman into the dingy little house. The sun’s rays lanced through a window on his left, lighting up dust motes in the air. Another window lit up the back center of the large elongated room. A small bed perched against the left wall in the back, and half the room could be divided by a curtain.
The woman pointed to a mat opposite the bed. “This is where you’ll sleep.” A folded blanket rested at the base of the mat.
David longed to fall onto the mat and lose himself in sleep, the only way to escape his circumstances. He should have escaped when he had the chance. Then he wouldn’t have to depend on sleep to run away and hide.
Coward.
David swallowed, recalling Titus’s words. He couldn’t deny it now. He was a coward. If he knew he would’ve had to endure the branding, David would have jumped the wall and never looked back.
The woman pulled the curtain closed to the length of the beds. “I’ll close this each night so we’ll both have privacy. My name is Taba. From what Titus has told me about you,” she smiled at Titus, “I’m sure you’ll do well here.”
David took a deep breath and sighed. At least he would be treated well by this woman. She was obviously a slave too.
Titus and the woman turned toward the door and whispered to each other. The woman giggled, and Titus chuckled.
How could he carry on with the woman when David had just been tortured? His body burned like fire and he felt sick. He marched past Titus and the woman and went outside. Throbbing with pain, his nose burned as he tried to keep from crying.
“I’ll return as soon as I can, Damonus.” David was surprised to find Titus next to him. “You’ll be well cared for. The men of the village will teach you all that you need to know about the vineyards, as will Taba. She’ll prepare your meals and make sure your needs are met.” Titus motioned toward David’s burnt flesh with his chin. “She’ll dress your wound.” He grabbed David’s shoulders and turned David to face him. “All will be well.”
David nodded. He dared not speak for fear he would burst into sobs. He dreaded crying in front of Titus. It had been humiliating when he couldn’t withstand the pain of the branding iron.
Titus turned to leave. David watched as his long form disappeared behind the buildings. David went around the house where he could be alone. He sank amongst the weeds and dirt. And wept. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
“ Jehovah-Shammah. Why did you let this happen?” He looked up at the blue sky. “What have I done to deserve this? Haven’t I been pleasing to you?”
All the times that David had pleased Aloysius, taught the other slaves about the Lord, and the patience he showed with Alethea turned over in his mind. Sure, he had made some mistakes, but in everything, David had done his utmost to serve God. He had made Elohim his Master in all that he did. When something had been asked of him, he acted as though Elohim Himself had made the order. The outcome was good. He knew he had been pleasing to Aloysius and to Titus. He’d been sure of securing his freedom. Now it was all ruined. All that tiresome effort for nothing.
Why did this happen? He fisted his hands in his hair.
It was time to say good-bye to the hope of freedom. He watched it fly away with the birds above his head. If only he had wings. He’d fly away with them. The memory of when he and Alethea met on the portico his first day at the villa came to his mind. She’d sung that song.
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.
Loneliness enveloped him, and his mind turned to the church. He’d miss his brothers and sisters in the Lord. If only he had their comforting words now.
A sparrow fluttered to the ground nearby. David watched it peck the dirt. The bird chirped, making him feel less alone, less afraid.
Just then, a warm shower of realization washed over him. He wasn’t alone, and he didn’t have to be afraid. He knew what his purpose was. This was no punishment from God. David had been sent to teach the people in the village about Elohim.
His hands trembled as he clasped them over his bowed head. “Father, I now understand. I will serve You here in the same way I served You at the villa. I just beg You Father . . . . When my work is done, will You please free me of this place? I want my life back.”
He watched the little bird pecking and chirping. Finally, its beak came up with a worm, and he flew away, joining his friends in the sky. David imagined flying away with him, flying high above the clouds, flying away from this place, away from the darkness. His head grew heavy, so he rested his cheek on his knees. Yes. Someday he would fly.
The white clouds billowed above him, turning in the wind, turning and forming shapes. A shadow crept into the white folds and tumbled into a dark cloud. A storm? No. Not a storm. Birds. A flock of birds. They swarmed toward David. Crows perched in the nearby trees, while others settled on the ground next to him. They hopped toward him and pecked at his body. David shooed them away, but more came. He turned over, but the pecking intensified on his skin against the ground. How could there be birds between his body and the ground? He pushed up, and birds were beneath him and on top of him. Crying out, he shoved them away. He tried to get up and run, but his legs were too heavy; they wouldn’t move.
The birds lifted from him, but the pecking on his skin continued. The crows formed a black shape of a man standing in front of him. The man swung a whip made of crows. He struck David with it, its lashing intensified the pain on his body. The bird-man became Aulus hovering over him. “You will never be free, whelp!” Aulus’s face twisted until it resembled Alethea. Her tongue lashed out at him like a whip. His upper arm stung with pain. He cried out.
“Damonus,” Alethea said in a voice he didn’t recognize. She reached out to him with bird-hands. The wings were wet and cool on his face. “All is well.”
David pulled away from her and his eyes flew open.
“You were dreaming.” Taba hovered over him with a wet cloth.
“What happened?” Titus’s voice came from the other side of the room.
David lifted his head to see, but the room spun and blurred around him. A bandage bound his upper arm where he had been branded.
“He was having a nightmare again,” Taba said, helping David lie back down on the mat. “Do you know anyone named Aulus? He’s cried that name out a number of times in his dreams. I think it’s someone he fears.”
Titus shook his head. “No. I don’t know anyone by that name. Has someone here in the village done harm to him?”
“Damonus hasn’t spent enough time in the village for anyone to have hurt him . . . except for you when you branded him.”
“I had no choice.” Titus’s voice was a forced calm.
Relief swept over him now that Titus was near. He shivered and pulled at the cover.
Taba helped pull the blanket over him. �
��All will be well, Damonus. Just get some rest.”
Taba moved away and hushed voices filled the room. “It’s been two days now, and the fever still hasn’t broken,” Titus said in a concerned voice.
“Give him one more day, my love, and if the fever still doesn’t break, bring the doctor.”
David heard shuffling around the room but was too exhausted to open his eyes and see what was going on around him.
“I’m concerned about those dreams,” Taba whispered. “He talks in his sleep and calls out names. Alethea is one of them. Isn’t she Aloysius’s granddaughter?”
“Yes,” Titus said. “They were friends.”
“Friends? Well, she must have hurt him in some way. When he says her name, he’s angry.”
David thought of his dreams, and it made his head hurt. He shivered again as he snuggled more under his cover. Alethea . . . she was the last person he wanted to think about right now. He needed to focus on his mission. As soon as he was well, he would teach others about Elohim.
Ω
David stood amongst the waist-high vines. The greenery and fruity scents carried over him in a shower of freshness. The weight of the grape bunches bowed down each small trunk, but the ropes tied to the vine’s stakes, stretching from the top of the hill to the bottom, kept each plant upright.
Taba stood next to David. She reached out and plucked a grape from one of the bunches. “To know it’s ready to be harvested, test the grape by its ripeness.” She turned the grape between her fingers. “It should be fat and juicy.” She popped one into her mouth. “And sweet, not bitter.” She nodded. “These are ready.” She cut the bunch and then placed it in a wicker basket at their feet. They proceeded to the next vine.
David walked carefully, so as not to trip on his shackles. Taba didn’t seem to have any trouble and never tripped. He assumed over time he’d become accustomed to the chains. The heavy metal rubbed his ankles raw and rested uncomfortably on the tops of his feet. He’d noticed some slaves wrapped protective rags around the areas where the shackles rubbed. He’d have to do the same.
