CHAPTER VI

 

Both saw her at the same time.

Obviously having just returned from some late-night revelry, Lucius lounged unsteadily against a marble bench, a large cup swinging from his hand. Magnus crouched on the ground in illustration of a ribald story; they were laughing uproariously. Magnus, with surprising dexterity, leaped up and grabbed her arm, preventing her retreat.

“Look who has come to greet me,” he called out to Lucius. “She seems in a great hurry—I believe she’s missed me.”

Alysia looked hastily behind her to see who might come to her aid, but saw only Nerva’s head poking out of the kitchen; it withdraw at once.

Magnus flung her toward Lucius, who rose and caught her against his hard body and stared into her eyes with a look of hatred. He pushed her back at Magnus. Her attempts to flee were constantly thwarted, and their roughness was leaving red streaks on her arms. She tried to call for help but each push knocked the breath from her lungs and she couldn’t find her voice.

Then Magnus’ face changed, became mean and lustful, intent on a single purpose. He tried to force her away from the courtyard and toward the stable. Alysia braced her arms against him in an attempt to hold him back, but in spite of his thin frame he was strong and agile.

Desperate, her fleeting gaze fell on Lucius’ sword, where he had carelessly dropped it on the pavement. At the same moment, Magnus got one leg behind her and caused her to fall to the ground. She managed to wriggle far enough away to grasp the sword, only to find it too heavy to lift from her prone position. In a slurred voice Lucius called out a warning, and when Magnus turned to glance at him Alysia pushed him away and scrambled to her feet. She lifted the sword with both hands and held it out before her.

“I’ll kill you!” she cried, struggling to catch her breath. “If you don’t stop, I swear I will kill you!”

Magnus laughed and lunged toward her. He must have expected her to either drop the sword or back away; when she did neither it was too late to halt the impetus with which he’d launched himself. Alysia felt a strange, grinding sensation as the blade pierced Magnus’ chest and, sickened, she released it at once. The heavy end pulled downward and the sword clattered to the pavement.

Her attacker made an odd, groaning sound and slowly dropped to his knees. He swayed back and forth, then fell with a fearful thud, his head twisted to the side. “She’s slain me,” he said, with a look of great astonishment. All at once his eyes became staring and empty and he did not move again.

“Now you’ve done it!” Lucius shouted. Somehow he’d held onto his cup during the entire spectacle and now he hurled it in fury across the courtyard. “Murderer!”

Alysia heard running footsteps and whirled, half expecting to be killed on the spot. Paulus stood there, taking in the scene with one sweeping look…her disheveled appearance, Magnus staring upward with a fixed expression of stunned disbelief.

“Your slave killed him!” Lucius roared, but underneath his rage there was something very like smugness. “She murdered him!”

Alysia, panting, looked up to see Paulus’ cold gaze full upon her.

“This time you have gone too far,” he said, in a tone that sent a shiver through her body. “Punishment is out of my hands.”

He took her arm, leading her back into the house, almost lifting her with his strength. Once inside, Alysia wrenched away and faced him. “You must believe me! He was going to—”

Paulus’ manner had changed abruptly; she had never seen him with his brow furrowed this way and his eyes filled with a deep anxiety. “Do you realize what you’ve done? They’ll tear you to pieces—Lucius was a witness and he’ll never let this go. You must leave Rome at once.”

“Leave—but where—how—”

Pushing her toward the front of the house, he said swiftly, “The ship I chartered is waiting in port. I’ll send a letter bidding them leave at once. Omari will take you to the ship.”

“Please, I must explain—”

“I know what he was about to do. I don’t blame you for killing him. Now go and get your clothes. Hurry!”

She flew down the hall and up the stairs, thankful to find that Selena had left the room…probably to complain to her mother about Alysia’s behavior. She grabbed the bag she had already packed, thrust a few more things into it, and when she emerged from the room Paulus stood waiting for her, holding a purse tight with coins. He led her toward one of the side doors of the house. A horrified scream came from the courtyard, followed by Lucius’ loud proclamation of Alysia’s guilt. His voice drew nearer as he sought them. They heard a door opening and Selena’s anxious voice questioning him.

“Here is some money,” Paulus said, pressing the bag of coins into her free hand. “Find an inn and stay there. I’ll come for you.”

The silent Egyptian appeared and stood waiting.

“Go now. He knows where the ship is docked. Here’s the letter for the captain—Omari will explain to him. I’ll come as soon as this can be settled.”

“They’ll blame you, I can’t go—” she began.

“You’re as good as dead if you stay.” He gave her a none too gentle push. “Go!”

He watched them until they had rounded the corner of the long drive and disappeared. Then he went inside to confront Lucius and to prevent him, bodily if necessary, from following.

 

* * * *

 

The shores of Italy were miles behind them and the island of Crete had been sighted. Alysia sat alone in the cramped cabin reserved for Paulus, her thoughts going round and round as if they were horses on a track from which there was no exit. In all her exhausted reasoning she could feel no remorse for killing Magnus. It was all a blur in her mind, in spite of the fact that each moment had, at the time, held acute clarity so that the very sharpness of images and impressions had seemed to slow time. But looking back, it seemed that everything happened all at once and she only vaguely remembered it. Her concern now was for Paulus and how he was to explain the fact that his slave had killed a man and mysteriously disappeared under his very nose.

Omari had whisked her to a wharf on the Tiber in a two-passenger van he had rented in the forum, complete with a gaunt but very fast horse. He had stayed with her among the warehouses and dock workers until the captain of the ship could be found. The captain read Paulus’ letter and looked Alysia over with a frown.

“This is rather unusual,” he muttered. “Although this is the legate’s seal.”

“If you will permit me to speak,” Omari said, “I am the servant of the legate’s mother. This young woman is going to his estate as a guest of his mother.”

“Ah.” The captain’s eyes took on a faint gleam. “I see.” He all but snorted with what he considered a worldly understanding of the situation.

Omari seemed apologetic as he bade her goodbye, adding in his deep, accented voice, “May the gods grant you good fortune.”

“Thank you, Omari,” she said, almost in tears of gratitude as she boarded the ship.

She stayed to herself in the cabin, rarely venturing onto the deck. She had plenty of time to think. What would her life be like once Paulus came for her? What if he didn’t come for her? She hadn’t committed murder when he made his proposal! And if he did still want her, he’d have to keep her in hiding, wouldn’t he?

Everything was different now. Even with all his authority, Paulus couldn’t change or deny the fact that she, a slave, had killed a Roman citizen, an aristocrat, the son of a senator. No one would care why she had done it, and Lucius would no doubt lie…he could say that Alysia had deliberately and maliciously attacked Magnus while he was sitting there minding his own business.

Yes, Paulus would have to hide her away. And what would happen as she grew older and he grew tired of hiding her…would he then desert her and find someone else? What if she had a baby? Would he welcome a child? The child would be in danger, too.

What was to become of her?

Round and round, round and round…At first the exit was glimpsed as from a great distance. The closer she drew to it the more she recoiled, but it was the only way off this mental track that went nowhere. She must not go to Cyprus . Even if she felt assured that their life together would be happy (which she didn’t) she could not put Paulus in danger. And if he were found with her the authorities would know that he had helped her escape.

She thought, with a strange sadness, that any relationship they might have had was doomed from the beginning: she hated Rome; he was a Roman. He was an aristocrat; she was a slave. His feelings for her were based on physical desire; hers were…what? She didn’t understand her feelings. She only knew that they were deep and powerful and she had no control over them.

I must not go to Cyprus.

Paulus has been generous; he had given her enough money to live on for months. She would go somewhere and hire herself out as a servant, or even as a laborer in the fields. It didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered, except that Paulus must never find her.

The thought of freedom should fill her with relief, shouldn’t it? She should be happy that she need never see him again…need never have her heart quicken and her hands tremble in his presence. But she was neither relieved nor happy; she felt as if a large rock had settled in the pit of her stomach.

After another night spent in sleepless twisting and turning, the need for fresh air sent her onto the deck. The sea was dark and stretched far and away until somewhere, indiscernibly, it touched an equally dark sky. Black clouds boiled overhead, split by streaks of lightning and racked by reverberating peals of thunder. A strong, steady wind arose, making the whitecaps rise in the air and lap ominously against the side of the ship. Alysia clung to the wooden railing as men rushed to and fro around her, heaving ropes and shouting at one another. She looked over the side at the tumultuous waves. The wind snatched at her gown and hair, taking her breath away.

The water would do that, she thought, would take her breath away just so, and in a moment she would never have to think of Paulus again, never have to worry or think of anything again…

A hand clasped roughly about her arm and a voice shouted into her ear, “The legate would want you below, young woman. Come with me…” and she was thrust back inside the little cabin. The ship began to pitch back and forth.

She was frightened. She got down on her knees and held onto the cot, which some farsighted craftsman had bolted to the floor. Her bag of clothes and the pouch of coins rolled about the tiny room, but there was no sound except for the howl of the wind and the roar of the sea.

Much later, Alysia woke with her head on the bed, conscious of a strange stillness. She stumbled to the door, feeling as off-balance as if the ship still tossed wildly about. She opened the door. The sky was a queer yellowish color. She could hear two men talking quietly.

“We’ll make port at Crete for repairs. I don’t think the storm blew us very far off course.”

“See that the repairs are done quickly.”

“Captain, the weather—”

“You heard me…” The voices moved and faded away.

The unscheduled stop at Crete was brief indeed, lasting just long enough to seal a few cracks and mend the mainsail. Believing the worst of the storm to be over, the captain ordered the crew to cast off again. The pale young woman who walked purposefully down the steps to the pier and disappeared, went unnoticed.

The ship bound for Cyprus never reached its destination, for the storm erupted with more fury than ever and battered the vessel until it broke apart, drowning everyone on board.

 

* * * *

 

Alysia watched with rising fascination as the distant shoreline came nearer and nearer. Some miles back it had seemed a long, even curve, but now she could see the jagged indentations and stretches of smooth, sandy beach. The buildings of the city seemed to rise magically out of the sea. It was a beautiful sight, the land sloping upward to a great height, covered by long rows of terraced gardens and houses, and beyond them stretched a long blue line of hills and mountains.

“Have a care there, young woman,” said the kindly old captain, as she leaned over the rail. “There’s man-eating fish in these waters.”

She smiled and moved back. “Yes, I’ve seen their fins.” The two nights she had spent at Crete had rested and revived her. She could hardly believe she’d considered jumping into the sea and killing herself! She was alive and young; she had a healthy body and a full purse, and she could go anywhere she wanted.

But she quickly discovered she couldn’t go anywhere , for of the three passenger ships docked at Crete, one was bound for Rome and one for Athens. She couldn’t return to Athens any more than she could return to Rome. Besides, Paulus might seek her there. The third ship was sailing for Alexandria. But there would be many Romans and Greeks in Alexandria, a city noted for its scholars and multitudes of travelers.

At last she found a merchant ship whose captain allowed people needing passage to purchase a spot on deck, as long as they had their own provisions. The ship was bound for Palestine. She knew little about that country, or its people, except that they had a strict religious and moral code…which seemed appealing and offered some sense of security. And surely there wouldn’t be many Romans in so obscure a country. After shopping for a blanket and cushions, as well as some dried meat and fruit, she bought passage and boarded the ship.

The harbor at Joppa was really no harbor; the ships had to weigh anchor some distance from land while smaller boats came out to pick up passengers and commodities. Several miles up the coast, Caesarea was the main port city with, it was said, the finest harbor in all the empire.

Alysia gathered up her belongings from her station on deck and carefully climbed down the ladder to the waiting boat rowed by slaves. At last they reached the landing and she climbed another ladder to begin her walk down a creaking pier full of rotting boards. In spite of her new optimism, she had to admit to herself that she was frightened and uncertain. But what else could she do but set her chin and propel herself forward, and see what the day would hold?

In spite of its lack of actual docks and berths for ships, Joppa was a busy port city; its highway was the main connection for merchants and pilgrims to the larger city of Jerusalem. As she made her way down the platform she was jostled and practically forced along by the sheer number of people hurrying to and fro.

Alysia looked back for a moment at the turquoise waters sparkling under the midday sun. Several ships drifted at anchor, their sails and masts starkly outlined against the azure sky. Maybe it was the last time she’d have this view of the sea…the Great Sea that led to Rome, and to a man she couldn’t seem to put out of her mind.

Don’t look back, she told herself. Never look back.

Again she lifted her chin and tried to decide which of the narrow, winding streets to enter. She saw rows of flat-topped adobe houses; another way led to a section where carpenters and stone masons were at work, either building or refurbishing. Joppa wasn’t nearly as attractive on land as it was by sea.

Laden camels and ox-carts were moving slowly toward another road, and she reasoned that this must be the main highway. She fell in with the throngs of people going in that direction. They were for the most part plainly dressed, many of them barefoot. She couldn’t help but feel a bit superior to these people, scurrying about in this unsavory city. They didn’t show much intelligence, squawking back and forth at each other in their heathen tongue. How was she going to make them understand her? She thought the whole world spoke Greek. What could she do to earn a living here?

She would just have to find a comfortable inn (if one could be found) and spend more time planning a course of action. She needed to learn something of the towns and cities of this country; she must be able to make a rational decision about where she was to live.

Suddenly the marketplace opened before her, filled with people, camels, donkeys and mules. Large bazaars shaded by awnings lined the edges of the street, and the merchants either sat with their goods surrounding them, or stood behind long tables bearing samples of cloth or pottery or things made of wood. The odors of food and of the mementoes left by the beasts of burden filled her nostrils, and loud voices, creaking wagons, and assorted clankings and rattlings created a din of confusion.

She made her way cautiously through the crowd, not noticing a small boy who followed her closely. She caught a glimpse of him when she dropped her bag and bent at once to pick it up, but thought nothing of the fact that he seemed to be watching her. She walked on, and some time later heard a man’s voice speaking in Greek; when she turned, surprised, she saw the boy again. The instant their eyes met the boy lunged forward, jerked the linen bag out of her hand and darted away, disappearing into the mass of people and animals.

“Stop!” she cried, beginning to run after him. At once the tall, muscular man who had spoken in Greek caught her arm and said, “Wait, I will catch him.”

Alysia hesitated. The man pushed his way into the crowd. She would never have been able to do that, and she’d already lost sight of the boy. The man’s companion waited beside her with a reassuring nod. People jostled past them and they moved to stand beneath an awning stretched over a stall, from which issued chopping sounds and a disagreeable smell of fish. Alysia waited in an agony of confusion and suspense. Were these men part of the thievery or were they really trying to help her? And why should they try to help her, a stranger?

“You’re traveling alone?” the man asked, exhibiting a kindly interest.

“Y—yes,” she answered slowly, but she could see no threat in the dark eyes. He was a thin man, dressed in a plain robe and sandals, with black hair and a long, thin nose. She supposed him to be between thirty and forty years of age.

“This is my sister,” the man said, as if to put her at ease, and for the first time Alysia noticed a young girl standing behind him. Her petite frame was clad in an ankle-length gown belted at the waist, and a long cloth headdress covering most of her dark hair. She had delicate features, with large dark eyes that bore a look of concern. At that moment the other, younger man returned, sweating and breathing hard. He was holding her bag.

“I found this, but the boy was too quick for me. The clothes were scattered. I replaced them, but perhaps he took something—did you have money?”

Alysia searched frantically for the purse she’d stuffed down into the bottom of the bag. Clothes, blanket, a little food …the purse was gone.

She couldn’t believe it! She was penniless, poorer even that that wretched beggar across the street with his cup full of coins. She had not even a cup to beg with! She was so angry and humiliated that for a moment she couldn’t speak. The others observed her expression and looked at each other uncertainly.

Finally Alysia cleared her throat and murmured, “I am grateful for your help. I—I have nothing but these clothes. Perhaps I can sell them here in the market.”

The two men looked at each other, almost as if they could communicate without speaking. Finally the one who had chased the young thief said, “My name is Nathan, and these are my cousins, Lazarus and Mary. We live in Bethany of Judea, a town some distance from here. May I ask your name, and if you are alone?”

“My name is Alysia. And yes, I am alone.”

“Do you have friends or relatives nearby?”

“No. Not nearby. I’m traveling—I’ve only just arrived.”

Nathan had a pleasant face, with curly, copper-colored hair and eyes almost the same shade. Her gave her a long, appraising look that wasn’t like the crude and lustful stares to which she had become accustomed. He said, “I think it would be folly to leave you without any means. You wouldn’t get much for the clothes, knowing the merchants here.”

Lazarus added, “Perhaps you would accompany us to Bethany. Mary and my other sister live with me. You could stay with us, if you like, until you decide what to do.”

This unexpected kindness brought more tears to her eyes. She brushed them away and glanced at both men. They had honest, open faces. She felt a hand on her arm; the young girl was looking at her and nodding, as though she understood what was being said.

Perhaps it was fate that these people had come along just now. And perhaps she should get away from the coast, and disappear into the country.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Thank you all. I will come with you.”

Nathan said, “We were almost ready to go. Our wagon is this way.”

They walked across the street and into an area where wagons were being loaded with various items. They approached one of them, where a husky youth was tucking a blanket securely about the sides. Nathan spoke to the youth, gave him some coins, and watched until he had gone out of sight.

Nathan drove; the others would walk. The two donkeys pulling the wagon plodded slowly forward. The hard road had been beaten smooth by the hooves of animals and the wheels of all manner of conveyances. The outer edge of the town was surrounded by orange orchards and wheat fields, and as they left the plain they began a gentle descent through a long valley with rolling hills on either side. Heavily laden camels and ox-carts travailed before and behind them.

Soon the road began ascending, with the surrounding hills becoming steeper. The pass was dark and seemed threatening, somehow, and Alysia felt relieved when they emerged onto a higher and wider portion of road, and the mountains seemed not to press so closely about them. Trees dotted the landscape, cedars, firs, pines and oak. Thick, thorny bushes sprouted from everywhere.

Unexpectedly they encountered a Roman watchtower, constructed of huge bricks, which reared atop a plateau high above the road. The lone sentry glanced down at them as they passed. Alysia almost held her breath until she saw him turn and face the opposite direction, taking little interest in such a small entourage that included two women. The men remained silent as they passed the watchtower. She received the peculiar impression that they were as uneasy as she.

Some miles further the men guided the donkeys to the side of the road and stopped beneath the widespread shade of an enormous fig tree. Mary began unpacking a satchel that she pulled from beneath the seat of the wagon, removing from it a long loaf of bread, a covered dish full of olives and a bottle of water. The few times that she spoke it was in a different language; it seemed she knew very little Greek. As Alysia helped her pour the water into cups, the men fed the donkeys a mixture of oats and chopped hay. They took out jugs of water and emptied them into a bucket for the animals to drink.

When the meal was ready they all sat beneath the tree. Before anyone took a bite, Lazarus recited something like a prayer and they began eating. Alysia tried to watch and behave as they did.

“Where did you say you live?” she asked Nathan.

Nathan looked up. “Bethany. It’s about two miles east of our Holy City, Jerusalem. About forty miles from Joppa. There’s an inn further on where we’ll stay the night. And, if you don’t mind my asking, how is it that you are traveling with no companion?”

Alysia busily wiped crumbs from her lap. “There was a—a death in the family. I had to leave rather quickly.”

“Where are you from? Do you have any family here?”

Alysia had been thinking along the journey about what she would tell them when the questions inevitably came. They seemed to believe she was a Greek-speaking Jew—there were many of them in Athens and, indeed, everywhere. Why they should make such an assumption she didn’t know; yet, why else would she have come here, to Palestine?

“My parents have been long dead,” she began, hating to lie to them but not knowing what else to do. She would tell the story once and hope never to have to repeat it. “I lived with my aunt and uncle in Cyprus. My uncle died last year, and my aunt a few weeks ago. They were from Jerusalem.” (That was the only Jewish city she’d ever heard of.) “I’ve never been there, and as far as I know I have no other relatives. But, I didn’t wish to stay in Cyprus, and so I thought I would come here. I did have some money, but—I was hoping to find work.”

“You never came to Jerusalem, even during the festivals?” Lazarus asked.

“My uncle was an invalid. We were not able to travel.”

Alysia kept her gaze on her food, not knowing if they watched her. She tried to think of something to say to divert the attention from herself.

“And you, you are from Bethany and yet you speak perfect Greek.”

“Growing up in Cyprus you would not be familiar with our ways. We’re taught Greek and Latin in school, in addition to Hebrew and Aramaic.” Nathan and the others began packing what was left of the food into the satchel. “In a land so occupied by foreign invaders, it is necessary to know more than one language.”

There was an almost passionate bitterness in his voice and Alysia looked at him in surprise, having taken him for a quiet, mild-mannered man. She noticed how strong his hands looked and how his square jaw was set in lines that could only be called purposeful.

He turned abruptly. “Forgive me, I did not mean to bring up unpleasant things.”

She tried to smile, but felt compelled to ask, “Are there many Romans here?”

“Not in the smaller towns,” he answered. “But in Jerusalem, yes. There’s a Roman fort there. You may know that Caesarea is their headquarters. There are soldiers as well as Roman merchants and their families in many of the larger cities.”

“I see.”

He watched her expectantly and she added, “It’s only that, I was hoping not to see many reminders of Rome. The Romans have not been kind to my family.”

Nathan did not reply, but Lazarus smiled a little and said, “If you have come here to avoid Romans, Alysia, you have come to the wrong place.”