She wanted to see herself clearly. Not her face and outward appearance, but her inner being. She remembered Quintus telling her that he tried to see people the way his God saw them. Pelonia had said their God loved her enough to die for her. Marveling at the concept of a love that true, she twisted the end of her long braid, wondering if it was possible that He genuinely cared enough to count the hairs on her head.
She thought of the prayers she heard Quintus say and the words Pelonia used when speaking of their God. She cleared her throat, hoping their God would accept her into His fold.
“Dear Heavenly Father.” To her surprise the word father came more easily than she’d anticipated. “I’m Adiona. We’ve spoken a few times before when I asked you to protect Quintus. I’m here to plead for his safety again, but also to do as Pelonia suggested and ask You to be my Lord.”
She stood from her chair and walked to the open window where the breeze ruffled her hair. “My friend Caros became Your follower recently and You’ve done a fine job helping him to be a better person. I’m not kind and gentle like Pelonia or as honest and wonderful as Quintus, but if You’ll have me, perhaps You can place some good in me.”
As an afterthought, she realized she’d forgotten to ask for forgiveness. “I also pray that You forgive me for the wrong I’ve done in my life. Please help me to do…to be a person worthy of Your love.” Remembering how Quintus prayed for Octavia, she added, “In Jesus’s name, amen.”
She waited. There were no lightning bolts, no claps of thunder or celestial music. But a sense of tranquility pervaded her being until there was no room left for fear or doubts.
She closed the window. Crawling into bed, she covered herself with furs and burrowed into the soft pillows, feeling very much like a caterpillar who’d just been given a glorious pair of wings.
Verging off the Via Caecilla, Quintus rode into Amiternum ten days after he left his heart in Rome with Adiona. Built in a fertile valley at the junction of four roads, his birthplace was a thriving city based on commerce and trade. For centuries his family had been among the area’s civic leaders, contributing to and overseeing the various public works like the theater, aqueduct, public baths and even the amphitheater.
Until his arrest, he’d owned myriad acres of fertile farmland, a vineyard and a hillside estate along with the large city residence where he’d been born. Now all of it was gone, stripped from him by an unnamed accuser and a greedy magistrate who’d worked in tandem.
He rode his horse through the energetic heart of town—a way he’d traversed thousands of times to find his way home. Given the mountainous region and the season, the weather was remarkably pleasant—cold but clear. The street vendors were taking advantage of the blue skies and the greater number of patrons enjoying a bit of sun.
After eight months away, he noted the new storefronts and the disappearance of shops he’d patronized over the years. Tempted to stop and speak with old friends, he kept riding. The need to know about Fabius compelled him onward.
He turned a corner and followed the street up the slope of a hill. His familial residence came into sight. A high wall surrounded the large two-story villa, but the gate was open, allowing him a voyeur’s view of his home. Beech trees and mountain pine lined the front of the house. Painted in a mellow hue of gold, its arched windows and doors, as well as a covered balcony gave the place a stately yet welcoming appearance.
The front door opened. For a moment, he was transported back eight months in time. He held his breath, expecting his five-year-old in his little tunic and sandals to run onto the wide steps to greet him.
Instead, an old man in slave’s garb tottered onto the portico, a broom in hand. He closed the door behind him and began to sweep the tiles.
Quintus choked in air and blinked rapidly to clear the moisture from his eyes. Fabius, with his sweet, ever-present smile, was gone. Never again would he hear his son’s bright laughter or feel his chubby little arms squeezing his neck in a too-tight hug.
The loss gutted him. His chest ached and his throat convulsed as he worked to keep his emotions in check. He’d known his son was dead, but the events leading up to Quintus’s arrest and sale to the slaver’s wagon had happened rapidly, making it easier to deny the truths he didn’t want to face.
Now he had no choice but to fully accept what he could not change. Why, Lord? clamored over and over in his mind. All of his losses combined failed to compare with the death of his son.
Another slave closed the gate. Quintus turned away. His old life was over and done. Oddly, his only regret was Fabius. Grateful for the peace of knowing his son was with the Lord, that he would be reunited with him in heaven one day, he tugged on the reins and sent his horse in the direction of his former brother-in-law’s villa. He and Faustinus had never been friends, but they’d always been civil. There was no reason for Faustinus not to answer his questions.
As Quintus climbed the steps of his in-law’s villa, black memories of his wife assailed him. Her tantrums and insatiable vices had brought misery to both families although her kin made endless excuses for her actions.
He’d been a fool to ever compare Adiona with Faustina. On the surface the two women seemed similar, but in heart matters, they were as different as summer from winter.
The steward of the house opened the door. Mencius blinked, his only show of surprise before ushering Quintus into the incense-sweetened entryway. The steward left to consult with his master a few moments, but quickly returned to show Quintus to Faustinus’s office.
A tall, thin man with brown hair and a thickening waist, Faustinus was standing in front of his desk when Quintus crossed the threshold. Tension was a third being in the room.
“Is that really you, Quintus? How is it possible you’ve returned to us? Where have you been?”
“In Rome.” In quick fashion, he told Faustinus of his time away. “Thankfully, my Lord saw fit to let me live.”
“Then I’m glad for your God’s kindness.”
“Really?” Quintus said, unable to hide his doubt. “Lucius thinks you’re the one who turned me over to the authorities.”
“Me? That half-wit brother of yours is wrong once again.”
“Then who? I’m certain you know something of the person who’s responsible.”
Faustinus glanced away guiltily. “Why? How would I know?”
“Just a hunch,” Quintus said. “If you can tell me, I hope you will. The episode is over as far as I’m concerned, but I’d still like to know the truth. It’s an odd way to live when you don’t know if the person you’re speaking to wishes you were dead.”
“How is any of this over? You’re infamia. Your life is wasted.”
“No, my freedom’s been restored and much of my wealth is intact. If I ever thought my faith might not stand the truest test, I learned otherwise. My son’s death is all I regret.”
“And Faustina? Do you mourn her?”
“I’m sorry I was never able to make her happy. You may not agree, but I did my best with her. I will forever be grateful for the son she gave me and I never once wished her dead. But given the circumstances and difficulties between us, I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t grateful to be free of her.”
Faustinus hung his head. His shoulders slumped. “It’s not good to speak ill of those who’ve passed on and you know I loved my sister, but I must tell you this. I know you tried, Quintus. My sister’s behavior wasn’t your fault. I’ve felt guilty all these years because I forced the arrangement between the two of you. My parents and I were always aware something was…not right.” He pointed to his head, indicating a sickness of the mind. “She liked your looks and I knew enough about you to appreciate your loyalty and strength of character. When your brother played into my hand, I knew your father could be convinced to join our families. I believed…hoped that if she were content, she’d be easier to live with. I thought if anyone could make her happy, it was you.”
Sick in the pit of his stomach, Quintus glanced aw
ay, unable to look at the other man without wishing him harm. As a gladiator Quintus had learned many ways to kill and his rising temper goaded him to maim Faustinus at least.
“I know you’d probably like to hurt me—”
“You can’t imagine,” Quintus said. “Just know that if I weren’t a Christian, you’d be dead.”
Faustinus blanched and sought refuge behind his large desk. “I didn’t know she was as bad off as she was or that having a child would make things worse.”
“Just tell me where Fabius is. I hope you respected me and my beliefs enough to have him buried.”
“Yes, of course. I knew how you felt on that score and I wanted to honor your memory. Faustina was cremated, but Fabius is here.”
“Here?”
“Yes, I had him buried in the garden under the evergreen tree he loved to climb when he visited. None of the funerary collegia challenged me or insisted he be buried outside the city because he was such a young child. Believe it or not, I loved him, too. I thought if he were buried here at least he’d be surrounded by family.”
Cold air swept through the open window, carrying the scent of smoke and pine.
“My thanks,” Quintus said, his throat raw and tight. He realized Faustinus had tried to honor both him and Fabius. Wanting to let go of his anger as he always strived to do, he focused on that kindness. “I want to see him.”
“Of course, I’ll take you to him.”
Outside the villa, Quintus stopped on the steps and pulled his cape closer around him. He knew the way to his son’s favorite tree. “I’ll go from here alone.”
Faustinus nodded, the lines on his face pronounced. “Don’t leave without seeing me. I have more to confess.”
Quintus followed the winding path. His breaths curled into white mist in the cold air. Winter’s fingers had plucked the shrubs and bushes clean of any greenery, leaving pine trees and evergreen alone in their task of providing color.
The tall evergreen he sought waited at the end of the path; snow-capped mountains stood majestically in the distance. A grave marker brought unquenchable tears to his eyes. He dropped to his knees. The frozen earth was as unyielding as death itself. Riddled by grief, he covered his face with his palms. Visions of his son’s sweet face played through his mind, making him laugh and weep by turns.
When he was empty, he gathered up a handful of soil and sat back on his heels. He waited until the cold had seeped through the layers of his clothes before he whispered a final goodbye.
Taking his time to return to the villa, he thanked the Lord for the blessing of his son and the time he’d been given with him. He prayed for Adiona as he’d done continuously since leaving Rome. With every breath in his body he longed to return to her, to claim her for his own. She was the keeper of his heart, the woman he’d longed for, the wife he’d dreamed of for more years than he cared to count.
But she isn’t a Christian and she’s sworn off marriage, he reminded himself. He still wanted her. If she never accepted the Lord as her own and he could never have her for his wife then he’d be her friend or remain her protector. Either way, he knew without a doubt he’d spend the rest of his days loving her.
He found Faustinus waiting for him on the steps. “I’m leaving for Rome.”
“Back to Rome? Why? If you have your fortune as you say…”
“My heart is no longer here.”
“I see,” Faustinus said.
“What was it you planned to tell me?”
“You asked who turned you in.”
Quintus tensed, certain Faustinus meant to confess.
“It was Faustina. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to be disloyal.”
“Then why tell me now?” Quintus said, disgusted by his wife’s perfidy when he’d never once sought to harm her.
Faustinus shrugged. “After all you’ve suffered, it seemed wrong for you not to know the whole truth.”
“My thanks,” Quintus said sincerely. “I can live my life without the constant need to look over my shoulder.”
“Yes.”
Quintus turned to leave, then paused. “Do you know why she hated me so much?”
“She didn’t hate you. She loved you.”
“No,” Quintus said, biting back a harsh laugh. “She never had the first drop of love in her heart for me.”
“I only attest to the message she wrote just before she died.”
“What message? Where is it?”
“The wax tablet she used was ruined, but your brother can vouch for me. I showed Lucius the message after we thought you were dead.”
“What did it say?”
“She said she loved you. That Fabius’s death filled her with shame for the kind of woman she’d been. She knew you’d never take your own life as she planned to take hers. Turning you in was the only way to ensure you met her and Fabius in the afterlife. She paid the magistrate to condemn you.”
“She was crazed,” Quintus said, his mind reeling with the duplicity of her plan.
“I told you. Perhaps now you’ll believe me.”
All the guilt he’d carried because of Faustina drained away, leaving him with a clean conscience and the hope that he could be a good husband to Adiona—once he convinced her to marry him.
“Peace go with you,” Faustinus called with a wave as Quintus mounted his horse.
“And to you,” Quintus said, turning for Rome and the new life he hoped and prayed awaited him.
Chapter Twenty
Adiona was reading a wax tablet from her property manager when Pelonia arrived the next morning. Dressed in an understated fashion, the lanista’s young wife wore a blue stola, matching palla and simple wooden combs in her hair.
“Should you be up and out this early?” Adiona asked as Pelonia sat down across from her at the table. “Aren’t pregnant women supposed to rest?”
“I don’t know.” Pelonia’s brow furrowed. “I’ve never been pregnant before. I feel fine.”
“Good, but be certain you don’t overdo.”
“You’re sounding like Caros.” Pelonia grinned. “At dinner last night, I was lifting a bowl of broth. He asked me if it was too heavy. I thought he was joking, but he was serious.”
“I fear it’s going to be a long nine months for you.” Adiona laughed and indicated the selection of food on the table. “Care for some fruit or water?”
Pelonia chose a wedge of tangerine and a spoonful of pomegranate seeds.
“Why are you here?” Adiona asked.
“Can’t I drop by to say hello?”
Adiona laughed self-consciously. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not used to friends who come to visit with no agenda.”
“Then I’m glad you’re changing the company you keep.”
“I am also.”
Pelonia ate a section of tangerine. “In truth, I woke this morning with an unction to see you. It was even worse than my need for those apples yesterday.”
“That was urgent, indeed.”
Pelonia grinned. “Just wait until you’re pregnant. You won’t be laughing at my cravings then.”
Adiona’s amusement dimmed. “I won’t be having children.”
“I’m so sorry,” Pelonia said. “I didn’t realize you’re barren.”
“I’m not. At least I don’t think I am. What I mean is, I don’t plan to marry.”
“But what about Quintus? Surely you won’t abandon him. You love him and he’s madly in love with you.”
Hope swelled in Adiona’s chest before she could squelch it. “Did he say so?”
“He doesn’t need to. Anyone with eyes can see it’s the truth. I thought you knew.” Pelonia’s pretty face puckered with confusion. “How could you not?”
“He said I was special to him, but he never mentioned love. I didn’t assume.”
“But it’s so obvious.”
Adiona shredded the roll on her plate. “Not to me.”
“Yes, well, when two people are in love they’re ofte
n the last to know.”
“Perhaps.” A dove cooed nearby and Adiona tossed it a few scraps of bread. “What does it matter anyway? Quintus isn’t here. Who knows if or when he’ll come back. I asked for his promise to return, but he refused.”
“He’ll be back. I have no doubt. Do you know why he wouldn’t give his word?”
“Yes. He didn’t know who reported him to the authorities or if it might happen again. I wanted to beg him not to go, but his son…”
“I understand,” Pelonia said full of sympathy. “It’s a harsh reality for us Christians, but the possibility of punishment is an ever-present reality. Thankfully, the mob assumed I was only a slave being used for their amusement when I was sentenced to the arena. If not, Caros and I would have no safe place to go. As it is, once again the Lord proved his promise that all will work for our good when we trust in Him.”
Adiona ate a spoonful of pomegranate seeds, the usual tang of the fruit tasteless on her tongue. When she’d accepted Christ, she hadn’t considered that sometime in the future she might have to face the arena for her faith. Hesitating, she realized she didn’t have to tell Pelonia about the change in her and no one would ever have to know. Instead, she drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I prayed again last night.”
“You did?” Pelonia smiled.
“Yes,” Adiona admitted in a whisper. “I asked Jesus to be my Lord.”
“How wonderful!” Pelonia fairly buzzed with excitement. She jumped to her feet, rounded the table and before Adiona had time to brace herself, threw her arms around her in a hug. “Praise be the Lord. Welcome to the family!”
“Thank you,” she said, radiating with her own sense of joy. “I must admit I feel somewhat different this morning. As if I’m no longer alone in the world.”
“You’re never alone. Our texts say He never leaves us.”
“That neither height nor depth can separate us from His love,” Adiona supplied.