The Master's Wall

by Sandi Rog

  David reached between the wide leaves and used his small dagger to cut off a bunch. He placed the grapes in another wicker basket. Several baskets were spread out through each row in order to collect each bunch.

  “So, what is Elohim?” Taba asked as she cut off another bunch of grapes.

  David smiled, surprised by the question. He was wondering how he’d begin to share the gospel with these people. And now, God opened the door. Thank You, Lord.

  “I’m just wondering because you said that word quite often during your dreams when you had the fever.” She popped another grape into her mouth, and David knew it wasn’t to test whether or not it was ripe.

  “Elohim is our Creator.” He motioned toward the vine with his dagger. “He made these grapes here. He made the sky and the clouds, the birds, and everything you see.”

  Taba pinched her lips together. “Hmm. No other god claims that.”

  “That’s because Elohim is the God above all gods.”

  Taba studied David as they carried the last basket and emptied it into a larger basket at the bottom of the hill. More slaves filed by them to collect the rest of the grapes and dump them into another large basket at the top of the hill.

  David and Taba lifted the collected bunches to carry them to the winepress.

  “Tell me more about this God of yours.”

  And David began to tell her what he knew about Elohim. He thought of how Christ was the vine and David the branch. If he remained with Christ, David would be able to bear fruit. He looked down at the grapes. He was determined that Taba would be their first fruit.

  seventeen

  “David!” Alethea whispered as loud as she dared as she peered around the corner into the open-air gymnasium.

  David sparred with the other boys. He stood so close to her, that she knew he could hear her, but he wouldn’t turn around.

  How often had he ignored her like this? He’d been gone for six months, and it felt like an eternity. She should march right in there and demand his attention. But her courage failed her. After all, he was banished because of her, and if the boys saw the two of them talking, they might say something to get David into even more trouble. Marcus could probably be trusted, but Lucius . . . she trusted Lucius as far as she could spit, which wasn’t very far. The last time she tried, it ran directly down her chin and onto the front of her stola. David had gotten a good laugh out of it.

  Oh, David. How she missed him.

  “I’m sorry, David,” she whispered loud enough for him to hear. “Will you please forgive me?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Alethea gasped and turned to face Portia. “Umm, just watching.”

  Portia’s gaze fell on David and then on Alethea. “You know, mistress.” Portia looked around them, then back at Alethea. “You don’t have to be alone,” she said, her voice much lower this time.

  Alethea raised a brow. “What do you mean?” Did Portia know of a way she could sneak off with David?

  Portia clasped her hands together and leaned in closer to Alethea. “Jesus would like to be your friend.”

  Alethea’s cheeks warmed. Where was this coming from? Was it a test? A test to see if Alethea believed? And if she claimed to believe in David’s God, would Portia run off and tell Grandfather? She may have helped her mother instigate the plan against Mpampas. Alethea’s stomach hurt. She didn’t want to believe Portia could be so wicked. But she couldn’t risk it. Alethea lifted her chin. “I want nothing to do with David’s God,” she said with a vehemence she didn’t feel.

  Portia’s face turned bright red.

  Alethea turned and walked away, only then realizing she’d connected Jesus with David. Oh, no! Her heart sank. Had she now put David’s life in jeopardy? Would Portia know David as David, or as Damonus? What could she do? How could she fix it? She stopped to explain her slip of the tongue, but Grandfather walked toward them, grinning. Alethea nodded curtly and kept walking.

  Ω

  “I should have gone myself,” Alethea mumbled. Sure, she would be punished for going over the wall, but at least she could have met with David face to face.

  Finally, she saw the boy slave as he neared the wall. She stood at the top of the stairs and leaned against the rail where the slaves’ chambers were located. She couldn’t quite make out the boy’s face. If he was smiling, then she would know it was good news. If he was frowning, then she would know David still wasn’t willing to forgive her. Was this not the eighth time that she had sent a message to him, begging his forgiveness? Every time, he had refused.

  At last, the boy’s face came into view. He was frowning.

  Emptiness consumed her. She had no one. The boy stood far enough away from the wall so she could hear him.

  “Forgive me, mistress. The message I have is not what you hope to hear,” he shouted.

  “Then remain silent,” she said.

  The boy nodded and went on his way.

  She trudged down the stairs. It had been a year, nine months and eleven days now since she had seen David. It felt like an eternity. She circled around the house, walked into the large courtyard, and found a stone bench next to a statue of her grandfather. She slumped onto the bench and stretched out onto her stomach. She wanted to cry, but what good would that do? She had already shed rivers of tears over David.

  He would never forgive her, and she would likely never see him again. Sometimes he would come to spar with Marcus and Lucius, but she wasn’t allowed near the gymnasium anymore during that time, and Grandmother always kept her busy with some boring task.

  He no longer cared for her. The realization of her loss finally settled into her mind and into her heart.

  She was alone. Completely alone. Fear choked her. She had no one. All because of her lie. She buried her face in her arms. If she’d only told the truth, David would still be at the villa. Still be her friend.

  How she ached for him. For his dimpled smile, for his voice.

  Everyone sins, Aucella.

  Not me.

  How those words tormented, haunted her. She wished she could take them back. Take back that haughty air. She needed saving after all.

  Sighing, she rested her head on her cheek. “I need a friend,” she whispered. If only Mpampas . . . . If only. There were too many if onlys. It was time to move on with life. Perhaps marriage to Demetri wouldn’t be so terrible after all? Maybe she could find a friend in him? Clearly, she was losing her mind.

  Just then, she heard Paulus’s voice in the courtyard. Of course. Her own brother could be the friend she was longing for. She rolled off the bench and hurried toward him.

  “Alethea, look who’s here,” Paulus’s voice carried over to her.

  Surprised that Paulus found her first, she turned. Across the courtyard and next to Marcus stood Demetri. His large frame stood higher than Marcus, and her first impulse was to run. Did he plan on forcing her into marriage? Her stomach tightened, but then she reminded herself that this might be her only chance to make things right. If she was doomed to marry him, she just as well make it as pleasant as possible. Hadn’t David once begged her to find the good in him?

  “Come on.” Paulus took her by the arm.

  She followed. She needed all the friends she could get, even if they weren’t what she wanted. Besides, she knew in her heart she shouldn’t have been so hard on Demetri in the past. Though, his behavior wasn’t exactly perfect either.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Demetri,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

  Demetri turned. He looked down at her and his eyes narrowed. He didn’t seem to recognize her. After all, it had been over a year since they’d seen each other. Surely she hadn’t changed that much.

  She shifted uncomfortably as his gaze wandered over her. She had grown a lot in the last year. She was finally filling out like Vibia, but nothing mattered to her anymore. She was alone, and her heart ached with emptiness.

  Just then, recognition washed over his face. H
e swallowed visibly.

  “Alethea.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize . . . you are . . . .” He put his hands behind his back and straightened.

  Apparently, she had caught him off guard by her kindness. Would he be kind in return?

  “Nice to see me?” He cocked his head. “Are you certain of that?”

  She nodded. She leaned in close to him, and he planted a kiss on her cheek.

  “Perhaps we can spend some time together and become better acquainted. Maybe even . . . friends,” she said.

  Demetri laughed.

  Heat crept from her neck to her cheeks.

  The others moved away from them.

  “Forgive me. I’m just stunned by . . . your—well, this sudden change of behavior. I suppose we all become mature at some point in our lives. You’re not quite the wild filly I once knew.”

  Anger stirred inside her at his horse comparison, but she kept it at bay. This was her only chance, and really, if she were honest, she deserved every bit of what he said. She was never willing to give him a fair chance, and in the past, she had been rude. Honest, but rude.

  “I am still wild in spirit. I’ve simply found a way to rein it in.” She hoped she had anyway. She didn’t want to let anyone get too close again. She needed a friend, yes, but she would be careful not to open her heart too much this time.

  He straightened and shifted his stance. For the first time in her life, she recognized Demetri’s discomfort. He was human after all.

  “Do my words shock you?” She stepped back. “I’ve said far worse things to you in the past.”

  “You are just so grown up, is all. Forgive me.” He cleared his throat. “I’m a bit taken aback.”

  Fearful that his words might mean it was time to marry, she added, “I still have a lot of growing up to do. My cooking is far from sufficient, just ask Grandmother. Running a household is something I have yet to master.”

  “I understand, and you don’t need to worry. I’ve promised your grandfather I won’t take you until you’re fourteen.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. The very thought, the very idea of him taking her made her stomach churn. Worst of all, she’d be fourteen in two months. She forced a smile and nodded, then turned to leave.

  “Good-bye . . . at least until the evening meal.” She held her chin high and walked with as much elegance and grace as she could muster. How she missed David. Who would save her now?

  Later that day, she found Paulus alone in the plaza, swinging at the stake with a wooden sword.

  “Where are the others?” she asked.

  “They’ve gone with Demetri to the other side of the hill,” Paulus said, frowning.

  “Why didn’t you join them?”

  “I wasn’t allowed.”

  “Then come with me. We can play in the woods together.”

  Paulus threw his sword down, and they both ran together across the field.

  Something caught her attention when they were climbing to the top of a tree. The big pine hadn’t been chopped down. She hadn’t played in the woods since David had expressed his hate for her. Being in the woods brought back too many painful memories. And since the big pine had supposedly been chopped down, there was no need to go there. But there it was, standing off in the distance as she swayed in the top of her tree. They must have cut down the wrong one.

  Paulus finally caught up to her and they both sat perched on their own branch.

  “Do you ever have thoughts about Mpampas?” she asked.

  “No, not really.”

  “You look like him.”

  “I do not!” he said, obviously insulted by her compliment. “I look like Grandfather.”

  “It’s not a bad thing to look like your father, Paulus. He was a very handsome man.”

  “He was a Christian.” Paulus said the word as if it were poison.

  She cleared her throat. His words hurt. “He loved us very much.”

  “He didn’t love us. He was a cannibal.”

  “A what?” Alethea nearly lost her grip on the tree branch.

  “He ate human flesh and drank their blood.”

  Alethea gasped. She felt like he had just punched her in the gut. “Where did you hear such lies?”

  Paulus shrugged. “I don’t remember. Everybody knows it.”

  “Well, it’s not true!” Alethea fought back tears. How could people say such horrifying things against Mpampas? Worst of all, Paulus believed them.

  “All Christians are cannibals.”

  Alethea thought of Mpampas and David, accused of being cannibals. She had never heard such horrible slander. “Christians are not cannibals. Who told you such things?”

  “I don’t remember,” Paulus said, now frustrated. He climbed down the branches.

  “Paulus wait, come back. Let’s play.”

  “I don’t like playing with you.” He continued down the tree.

  Ω

  Alethea’s voice carried through the courtyard, and she danced, swinging her silken sash above her head. She hit the last note perfectly and then curtsied to the family. They cheered.

  “Sing us a song in Latin,” Grandfather said. “I can’t remember when you last shared a Latin song with us.”

  “I can’t think of any Latin songs, Grandfather.” Really, she could, but Greek songs were her favorite since her father had been Greek. Besides, she secretly defied her grandfather by singing Greeks songs in his presence.

  “I realize there are a lot of lovely Greek songs, but I wish to hear something in my own tongue.” Grandfather motioned towards Alethea. “Sing something in Latin.”

  After what Paulus had said about the Christians, she felt extra stubborn at the moment. She knew he must have heard the lies from Grandfather or her cousin Lucius. “I remember nothing in Latin.” Alethea held her chin high, perhaps a little too defiantly, because her grandfather frowned. The last time he looked at her that way, she got a beating. Perhaps, she should have held her tongue, but now it was too late.

  “She just sings in Greek because our father was a Greek.”

  Alethea faced her little brother.

  Paulus’s lips lifted into a smug grin.

  A cold chill ran down her spine.

  Grandfather turned toward Paulus. “Is that so, son?”

  “Yes.” Paulus nodded. “She spoke to me of our father this afternoon. She also spoke of the Christians.”

  Grandfather eyed Alethea.

  She swallowed hard. If only she could melt away into the tiles. “I simply asked if he recalled our father. That was all.” Alethea’s eyes darted to the others.

  Demetri frowned, worry clouding his eyes.

  “I am not a Christian.” She practically choked on the words.

  “Most certainly not!” Grandfather stood.

  She looked to her mother. Cornelia looked away. She looked to her aunt and uncle. They watched with interest.

  “I simply said that the Christians were not cannibals, and neither was Mpampas.”

  “How do you know so much about the Christians?” Grandfather stepped toward her.

  Alethea studied the tiles at her feet. “I just know Mpampas wouldn’t do such a thing,” she whispered.

  “Go to my office chamber.”

  She shuddered. He would beat her. “But I haven’t done anything wrong. Please, Grandfather. I’m not a Christian, nor will I ever be.” Even as she said the words, she felt she had betrayed David’s God.

  “Go!” Grandfather pointed toward the house.

  She shivered and went into the house, her heart in her throat.

  Ω

  “I’m not even a Christian.” The pain pinched in Alethea’s back as she lay the next day on the wall near the big pine. Her lower back sent sharp shocks of pain through her body. It was an excruciating climb to the wall, but she didn’t care. Far from where the big pine was, she saw another tree that grew up close to the wall, chopped down. They had indeed cut down the wrong tree.

  She
finally climbed to her feet. She didn’t care what happened anymore. She hopped down to the mound of dirt and cried out in agony, dropping on all fours from the pain in her back. Tears filled her eyes as she pushed herself up and made her way across the clearing. She hated this world. She had no one anymore.

  As she walked toward the trees, even they looked lonely and empty. No birds sang and no wind blew.

  When she came to the stream, she followed it until it emptied into a small pool. Loneliness swept over her as she stood staring at the calm waters and listened to the stream trickle into the pond.

  No one cared anything for her. Not Demetri, not even Paulus, and certainly not David. She was all alone. Tears streamed down her cheeks. All she had to look forward to in life was marriage to Demetri. She should have been born a horse.

  She stepped into the water, its currents uncomfortably cool. Vibia told her once about a woman who drowned herself after her husband discarded her baby. Perhaps that was also her only way out of this wretched life. She eased her way deeper into the water. It came to her waist, and she shivered from its coldness. Would she have the courage to end her life after she’d fought so hard to keep it? At least her death would be on her terms and not Grandfather’s. The men were working at her father’s home. What they were doing, she didn’t want to know. On their way back to the villa, they’d likely pass by this way. She felt a glimmer of satisfaction at the thought of Grandfather finding her lifeless body floating on the water’s surface.

  A ray of sunlight lanced over the water. She looked up at the blue sky. Suddenly the woods didn’t feel quite so empty and alone. She wiped the tears from her eyes and moved into the ray of light. It hugged her in its warmth. Elohim made the sun. David’s voice swam through her mind.

  David’s God was all she had. She still prayed to Him and asked Him to bring back Mpampas. He sure was taking His sweet time in answering that prayer. Perhaps His answer was no. If that were the case, then she really had nothing to live for.

  Death.

  The one thing she feared most. She wasn’t sure she could follow through with what she planned to do now. If she did, would she have to die a second time? Of course she would. She wasn’t even a Christian.