by Sandi Rog
“There’s a Master you can serve that’s greater than Aloysius.” David felt like he was talking to Alethea back in the woods, telling her that God was bigger than her grandfather.
“Aloysius is master enough for me.” A low chuckle rumbled in Titus’s chest.
David sighed. “But in the next life, it won’t be enough.”
At that moment, Lucius skipped into the arena and hopped into the stands, rubbing his hands together eager for entertainment. Marcus ambled behind and took a seat above his brother. Frowning, he leaned his elbows heavily on his knees.
The rest of the family, including the women—to David’s horror—entered the gymnasium. Demetri escorted Alethea, and David’s stomach lurched at seeing her slumped form. Why were they bringing the women to witness this deadly combat? It was likely for Alethea’s benefit. He clenched his teeth. She watched David as she took her seat, her eyes wide with fear.
Aloysius followed behind, walking with an arrogant stride, his sword hanging from his belt.
Titus turned David, giving him a sword and shield. The sword felt heavy, and so did the shield. It’d be impossible for David to fight this well-trained gladiator.
“Remember all that I’ve taught you.” Titus’s voice was calm and sure. He clearly had more confidence in this fight than David. “It’s not strength that wins a battle, but the mind, the heart.”
David locked eyes with Titus, no longer needing to look up to him to meet his gaze. “Apply that to your life.”
Titus lifted his chin. “You can win this fight.”
“So can you.” David’s voice was low, quiet. He turned and walked into the center of the small arena, his body aching and burning. Ready to die.
The large man, Chlothar, entered the gymnasium wearing the armor of a Thracian. David was pleased. The man’s leg guards would keep him from moving very fast and would prevent him from being too agile. His heavy helmet and its large crest with the long griffin curving upward toward the sky would also help to slow the man down. The man’s small, square shield would do little to protect him, and his parma, with its short curved blade, was a tad smaller than David’s gladius; the swords would be equal to do battle. But even if David were faster and better equipped, would he be able to kill him? He shook his head. He already knew the answer to that.
“Let the games begin!” Aloysius shouted.
“No!” Alethea’s voice broke through the crowd. She crawled over her aunt and uncle in the stands, making her way toward Aloysius. David gritted his teeth. Why didn’t they stop her? Now what was she up to?
The gladiator moved far away from her as she made her way into the arena. Several feet from David, she stepped in front of the stands and stood before her grandfather. She cast a side-glance in David’s direction, and then turned her back to him as she faced her worst enemy.
All the weariness left his body as David sensed she was attempting to delay the inevitable. But to what extremes would she go? Instinctively, he readied his hand on the hilt of his sword. He had nothing to lose, concerning his own life, so he’d do whatever it took to save hers.
Alethea straightened to her full height. “I am a Christian!” she shouted for everyone to hear.
Gasps carried up from her family, followed by murmurs and whispers. Aloysius stood as straight and still as one of the stakes in the courtyard. Gradually, all fell silent as Aloysius’s face reddened. But he made no move toward her, his hands at his side, motionless. Then, without warning, he slapped Alethea. She stood her ground, covering her cheek. Then he slapped her again. She stumbled to one side. This time, he raised his fist.
“No!” David shouted, Demetri’s voice echoing the same cry from the stands.
Aloysius’s eyes widened. He grabbed the hilt of his sword.
David sprinted toward him, readying his own gladius.
Screams carried up from the stands.
David met his master’s blade with a fierce blow, knocking him backward.
Aloysius lost his grip and his sword flipped to the ground.
David blocked Alethea with his arm, pushing her away from himself and her grandfather. He felt the edge of a blade against his throat. From the dark shadow standing next to him, David knew it was Titus.
Cornelia stumbled toward them as Aloysius bent to retrieve his sword. He came toward Alethea again. David jerked away from Titus’s blade, pushing it behind him. He lunged in front of Alethea, ready to take her grandfather down. Fear reflected in the old man’s gaze as David towered over him, his eyes darting from Titus to David. Titus moved in.
“No!” David pushed Alethea farther behind him, deflecting Titus’s blade, keeping a wary eye out for Aloysius.
“Stop!” Aloysius shouted at Titus. “You’ll kill her.”
Titus backed off, but David didn’t lower his blade, ready for Aloysius to come for him. A slave was worthy of death for disobeying his master, let alone threatening him. What did it matter? He was going to die anyway.
Aloysius straightened to his full height, his sword in his hand. “Throw down your sword.” Aloysius spoke in a firm tone, but David could hear the slight tremor in his voice.
“Alethea, come here.” Cornelia moved in closer. “Come away from that slave.”
Alethea moved, but David held her behind him. “Not yet.” He didn’t trust Aloysius, despite his reaction to Titus. David sensed Aloysius would find pleasure in harming Alethea himself.
Aloysius’s face went bright red with rage. “How dare you!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke. “This behavior is deserving of death. First you will be scourged, and then you will die by my sword.”
“What more can you do to me?” David had already been scourged, and he was already sentenced to die by the hand of the gladiator—a much more interesting death than dying by Aloysius’s sword.
Aloysius stepped toward David, his blade poised.
David crouched, gladius ready.
Aloysius hesitated, fear and uncertainty on his face. He started toward David again, but stopped when David tensed. He then glanced around, as if unsure what to do. His gaze fell on Cornelia, and his jaw tensed. “If you had been a better mother!” He lunged forward and plunged his sword into his daughter.
Renata screamed and rushed from the stands.
Alethea screamed from behind David.
Cornelia dropped to her knees, holding her bleeding stomach, as Renata raced to her side.
Crying, Alethea tried to get to her mother, but David wouldn’t let her pass. “No!” She cried and clung to David’s back, weeping onto his burning wounds.
Aloysius turned to David and Alethea, his face white, a stark contrast with the blood dripping from the tip of his sword. Eyes wide and bulging, he pointed his trembling blade at Alethea as she cowered behind David. “Her blood is on your hands!”
David clenched his teeth and hissed. He glared at Aloysius, as if reaching through the distance between them, yanking on his chin to force him to meet his gaze. “You coward.” He knew Aloysius went after Cornelia because he didn’t have the courage to go through him to get to Alethea.
Aloysius snarled at David. “Today, you will die!” He straightened, took a deep breath and raised his sword above his head. “Let the games begin!”
David pushed Alethea behind him, walking backward away from Titus and Aloysius.
Chlothar, the gladiator, stepped farther into the arena, moving toward them. David continued to push Alethea behind him. Surely, he wouldn’t attack while Alethea stood nearby. Renata hovered over Cornelia, her face in her hands and crying. Demetri stood near them, motioning for Alethea to come as Aloysius and Titus walked to the far side of the arena away from the stands.
“Go to your mother,” David said.
Alethea clung more fiercely to David’s burning back, trembling against him. “I just wanted to protect you. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” She sniffed behind him, her voice small and terrified.
“You’re not to blame.”
T
he gladiator moved in closer.
“Go,” he said, urgency in his tone.
Alethea ran to her mother just as the gladiator ran at David like an elephant charging for war.
twenty-three
David crouched, ready for the gladiator. Just as Chlothar closed in, David dove away, curling into a roll. The fire on his back and shoulders made him cry out. Shuddering, he barely made it to his feet. After all the excitement, David had forgotten about his exposed wounds. Unsteady, he turned to face the back of the gladiator. Chlothar glanced from side to side. It would have been a great opportunity to go in for the kill, but of course, because of Elohim, he couldn’t do it. And he was too weary to do anything else.
Chlothar turned and spotted David standing several feet behind him. Again, he charged. And again, David dove away, clenching his teeth against the burning on his back and arms, swallowing a cry. In agony, he rebounded to a standing position.
Chlothar straightened and faced David. The massive gladiator made David think of a bear chasing a squirrel. It was almost humorous. Chlothar walked toward him this time. David stepped back, partially relieved. He didn’t think he could roll away again, but to fight this giant would require strength, and David had little left. He hadn’t even tried using his sword yet, but there would be plenty of time for that, assuming David would last that long. Perhaps he could try to sweep the gladiator’s legs; although, that would make more sense if the man was running. He walked so slowly that he’d likely be able to catch himself before hitting the ground, or avoid David tripping him altogether.
The man’s slow gait gave David time to think. And he didn’t like to think. Not at this point. Was he really ready to die? If only he hadn’t failed in his attempt to save Alethea. He glanced up at the stands to find her. She wasn’t there. Nor was she by her mother. Where was she? Demetri was still there, watching with his arms crossed and a smug grin on his face. At least she wasn’t anywhere near him. He cringed. She’d be forced to be near him for the rest of her life. It made David ache with jealousy and despair.
Where could she be? Where else would she go but over the wall. Over the wall to escape the insanity of her family. If anything happened to her, he’d . . . what? What could he do? He’d already failed her once. There was nothing more he could do. If Demetri had any sense, he’d go after her. He wouldn’t be standing here right now, impatient to watch David die.
The gladiator came at him. David backed away from his thrusts and blocked them with his shield. Chlothar’s powerful hacking pushed David’s arm back. He kept a vise grip on the leather thong, fearing he might lose his hold. The gladiator kept pounding as David ground his teeth, holding his position. If Chlothar kept hacking, he might penetrate the metal. And if he broke through the metal, it wouldn’t take much to crack the wood. And if he got through the wood, one of those hacks could sever David’s hand.
The weight and awkwardness of the man’s curved blade crashed into him as Lucius, Demetri, and Aloysius cheered. Their cheers sent shudders of anger down the length of David’s weakening arm with each forceful hack. He’d given of himself and served this family with the hopes of one day being set free, and only now did the emptiness of that dream hit him. It struck him with each thrust and strike of the gladiator’s blade. Struck him with the meaninglessness of his attempted escape. An escape that would only serve to make Alethea’s life more miserable. And now, who knew where she was. How could her family be so blind, so foolish? But seeing Cornelia’s lifeless body out of the corner of his eye answered that question. The gladiator’s hacking thrusts penetrated David’s shield and his blade stuck there. The women in the stands gasped and cried out. Chlothar tried to pull his blade free, but David held on with both hands, careful not to lose his hold on his own sword. Chlothar jerked again and again, finally twisting the blade free and yanking David forward off his feet.
The gladiator’s shield came up and struck David in the head. A blinding light seared through his vision. He jumped to the side, but not in time to avoid the man’s blade. A deep, burning slice set his arm on fire. The gladiator came for him again. The women in the stands gasped, and Lucius shouted with joy, while Demetri and Aloysius cheered. David stumbled away, avoiding another lethal swing. With all his might, he threw his shield. It spun through the air like a saucer and hit Chlothar in the torso, causing him to buckle. It gave David time to regain his balance and run. Too quickly, the gladiator straightened and charged at him.
David charged also. Two strides short of colliding, David dropped into a half split and swept Chlothar’s legs out from under him. The giant man fell like a tree, landing with a heavy thud and a grunt. Air escaped his mouth as dust carried up from his fall, his foul stench invading David’s nostrils.
David leaped onto the gladiator to hold him down, every ounce of rage focused on the monster who was trying to kill him. And for what? A game. David pounded Chlothar’s helmet with the hilt of his sword, pounded as the ground and air shuddered around him in waves of murderous fury. Chlothar tried to roll, but David leaped up and shoved him back down with the heel of his foot, putting all his weight behind it. He thought of Aulus and how badly he wanted to do this to him. He kicked the man in the torso, and just as he flipped the blade of his sword and raised it to plunge it down, someone caught David’s arms from behind.
Voices shouted around him, voices he didn’t recognize, and one voice he did recognize. The voice connected to the hands on his arms. A voice he knew but hadn’t heard in years. David let his arms fall, releasing his fierce grip on the sword. He spun around.
Wide, horrified eyes met David’s. A familiar face from his past. Manius. And then his voice, his words became clear in David’s mind.
“Stop,” Manius whispered, now that David faced him.
David glanced down at the gladiator. Dare he let his guard down? The man didn’t move. The threat was over. Trembling, David let his sword fall. He sensed a change in the atmosphere. He looked around. Chaos and Roman guards.
And Galen. Alethea’s father crouched over Cornelia, weeping.
What were they doing here?
Guards grabbed Aloysius. Taking him by his arms, they put shackles on his ankles.
“How dare you!” Aloysius shouted. “What is the meaning of this?”
An Imperial Magistrate unrolled a scroll and read it so everyone could hear. “Vibian Cornelius Aloysius! You are under arrest for attempting to murder Galen Aletheos, your son-in-law, and for enslaving a Roman citizen, David, son of Manius Sergia.”
The words didn’t make any sense. Was he dreaming? Was Manius really standing before him, or was he just a figment of his imagination? Perhaps Chlothar had succeeded in killing him after all. Perhaps he was in heaven. But wouldn’t his wounds be healed? His limbs trembled and every part of him hurt. Wouldn’t heaven be a better place than this?
Manius’s eyes fell on the gash in his arm. “We need to get that bandaged.” He motioned for a slave holding a bowl and cloth wraps.
The slave smeared honey on David’s wound. The pain burned like fire, but quickly, the honey soothed. He clenched his teeth. It was real. This was really happening. Manius was here. Galen came. And Aloysius would finally pay for his crimes.
Chlothar.
David turned to look at the gladiator lying on the ground. “Did I kill him?” A shudder rose from within. Had he committed the one act that was an abomination to Elohim?
Two guards pulled Chlothar to his feet. He leaned heavily on each one, and David sighed with relief. Had it not been for Manius, his brother in Christ, he would have killed him. In his hopeless rage, David would have killed a man.
“I’ve never seen anyone fight like that boy.” Chlothar’s voice came from within his helmet that the men were trying to remove without success.
“You are free, David.” Manius helped bandage his arm, the pain keeping David’s senses on high alert.
David barely registered Manius’s words. Surely, he didn’t understand correctly. Perhaps Chlo
thar’s blow to his head had damaged his mind in some way.
“Free.” Manius grabbed David’s arms, trying to get the words to penetrate his mind, but the pain from his grasp made David wince. “Sorry.” Manius released his grip.
Now David knew he was hearing right. “How can that be?”
“You are my son.”
David shook his head. He knew that wasn’t true.
“Just before your parents were taken, your father and I made arrangements for me to adopt you. We made it official so that you could become a Roman citizen and not suffer persecution.” Manius’s gaze held David’s. “He never had a chance to tell you. It all happened so fast. Too fast. Sooner than we expected.”
David shook his head. “They knew, you knew, they’d be executed?”
“No.” Manius shifted his stance. “We hoped we were being overly cautious, but your father’s father was a devout Jew. He did not like the fact that your parents had become Christians. He was especially angry with your mother, since she was the first to leave the Hebrew faith. I don’t believe he meant for anything to happen to you and Sarah.”
“Sarah.” A cold tremor shook David to the core. “Where is Sarah?”
“With me.” Manius smiled. “I found her the morning after your parents were taken. She’s been with me ever since. I went back later to collect the scrolls, but they were gone. I’m sure they were there when I found Sarah, but they were gone.”
Sarah was safe. That’s all David heard. She was with Manius all this time. He’d worried and prayed so much for her. A sob of relief escaped his throat. She was alive and well. Then his thoughts shifted to Alethea. Where was she? He looked around. Guards swarmed the place, and the family wandered around aimlessly, bumping into each other, distraught. Marcus remained in the stands, still sitting with his elbows on his knees, watching everything unfold around him. Demetri walked away, shoulders slumped in defeat.
