Man of God (26 page)

Looking awestruck, Secundus stared as the
soldiers surrounded Paulus, grabbing him roughly and clamping iron
bracelets on his wrists. Livias had stepped back, watching with
undisguised exultation. Paulus could only wonder who he was, and
what part he had played in his capture.

Men were murmuring, stopping their work.
Someone had gone to tell Martinus, and the contractor stalked out
to address one of the officers.

“What is the meaning of this!”

It was Petronius who answered. “This is
Paulus Valerius, a known fugitive. He will no longer be working for
you.”

A wagon enclosed in wood rolled to a stop in
front of Paulus, pulled by a mule and driven by a legionary…a
common mode of transport for criminals. He was shoved inside and
the door closed; he heard the shooting of a bolt. Men on horseback
surrounded the wagon, and behind it the soldiers on foot formed a
line of two abreast.

They were taking no chances that this
prisoner would escape.

* * *

Flavius strode swiftly down the corridors of
the palace. He had just heard that Petronius had called for a
contingent of soldiers—something only one thing gave him the
authority to do, and that was the arrest of Paulus Valerius. He
stopped at the bedroom of the emperor’s daughter and went inside
without knocking. The child had just gotten out of bed and Susanna
was helping her to dress; obviously the child did not approve of
her ensemble, for she had thrown all her clothes into a heap on the
floor.

“I have a message for you,” he said. He and
his wife walked to a corner of the room while Drusilla eyed them
suspiciously, her mouth set in petulant lines exactly like her
father’s.

“I think it’s happened,” he told her. “And I
don’t know that there’s anything I can do about it. But someone
needs to warn Alysia.”

“I’ll go—I’ll take care not to be seen.
Someone else can tend to the little brat for an hour or two.”

Flavius glanced at the glaring child and
tried to say lightly, “Is that any way to talk, my dear wife?”

“Oh, husband,” she said, rolling her eyes and
sighing deeply, “if only you knew!”

* * *

Megara braced herself inside her carriage as
it careened through the streets. People scurried to get out of its
way…and to avoid the soldiers on horseback that followed it. Once
again Tertius had foiled her plans, and she cursed him heartily.
She had never been so shocked as when the soldiers had rushed into
her reception room, demanding to know who she was, and how she knew
Valerius. They were forcing her to accompany them to Paulus’
house…something she decidedly did not wish to do.

Well, she would have to make the best of it.
Surely they would not hold her, once they had Paulus and Alysia in
custody; she would return to her house, hurriedly pack her
belongings, go to Ostia and stay at an inn until the day her ship
sailed for Alexandria. She considered leaving Tertius behind—the
great oaf!—and let him fend for himself for the rest of his life,
but she still needed him. When she was settled in her new home,
with the prospect of a good marriage in sight, she would sell him
to some unscrupulous slave merchant who would see to it he was made
a field hand on a farm somewhere. Although that was better than he
deserved.

* * *

Girls were often overlooked when it came to
education; perhaps that was why Marcella had not been able to
learn, but it was obvious she was far behind Alysia’s other
students. She needed a tutor, and Alysia didn’t think either
Marcella or her mother would take kindly to that person being
Rachel, especially since Rachel was two years younger. Perhaps
Quintinius…the boy’s attitude seemed to have improved and he had
always done well in mathematics.

The other children had taken their departure
and Alysia was about to broach the subject to Cassia (who had
stayed all afternoon to “observe”), when the rattle of a carriage
came to their ears through the open windows. It was highly unusual
for a carriage to be on the road in the daytime. At once Rachel
went to look, saying, “I don’t know whose—” and then she turned,
her face draining of color.

“Mother,” she said, with a wild look at
Alysia…and Alysia heard the quick staccato of hooves as men on
horses surrounded the house. Trapped, nowhere to hide…no way to run
to the secret place, grab the satchel with money and clothes hidden
under a rock, and try to escape through the woods…

She whirled around. “Cassia, please, take
Rachel with you when you go, as if she were yours. Paulus—I mean
Antonius—will come for her, or—or Simon...” She knew she wasn’t
making sense.

“No! I won’t go without you!” Rachel cried,
as the door was flung open and a soldier marched into the room.

His stare went over each of them; Petronius
knew instantly which were the fugitive, and her daughter. “You are
under arrest,” he said, “by order of the emperor. The child comes,
too.”

Cassia was clutching her daughter and
pressing, terrified, against the wall. “Who are you?” Petronius
demanded.

“I—I—”

“She brought her child here to study…I am a
teacher,” Alysia replied, her heart thudding fast and hard. “They
know nothing of this.”

“Get out,” said Petronius.

Cassia was only too happy to oblige.
“Marcella,” Rachel said quickly, sliding her hand into her
mother’s. “I’m sorry about the fish sauce.”

Marcella, whose wiry black hair no longer
reeked, merely gave her a bewildered look as her mother herded her
out the door.

Petronius stared at Alysia. She was indeed a
beauty, still youthful-looking, but with the stronger, more refined
features of a mature woman. No wonder Caligula wanted her, he
thought—unaware that the emperor had never actually seen her.

“May we take anything?” Alysia asked.
“Clothes?”

“What do you need them for?” Petronius said
brusquely. “Out to the carriage.”

She wondered why they weren’t looking for
Paulus…why they hadn’t even mentioned him. A heaviness came over
her soul.

She and her daughter walked outside,
underneath the watchful eyes of a dozen or so mounted soldiers, and
climbed the incline to get into the carriage. Alysia couldn’t
believe her eyes when she saw Megara sitting there, elegantly
clothed in an emerald-colored stola, and her hair vibrantly
red.

“Megara,” she gasped, “how could you do
this?”

“How could I not?” Megara answered.

Petronius began to close the door, and Megara
said through the narrow window, “May I go home now?”

He ignored her, shut the door and called out,
“To the palace!”

Megara’s jaw tightened and she glared at
Alysia, as though it were her fault she was being inconvenienced.
Her gaze fell on Rachel, who looked solemnly back at her. The child
was very much like Paulus… dark blue eyes with a cast of green,
brown-gold hair, long and caught in a band at the nape of her neck.
She waited for the familiar bite of jealousy and was vaguely
surprised that it did not come. She had never wanted children.

A strange thought came into her mind.
Why
am I the way that I am?
She didn’t know…she’d never known. Once
Paulus had asked her that. She’d thought at the time it was a
ridiculous question. Her friendships had always been on a
superficial level, and cultivated only if she believed they would
be advantageous to herself. She had no sense of humor. There was
nothing she cared passionately about, other than her own welfare
and ambition. Except…except there was something about Paulus. As if
she had loved him once, or come as near to loving him as she could
anyone.

Deep inside, she knew there was something
about her that needed “fixing”. Paulus and Alysia claimed they had
the answer, that the power lay in the hands of that Jewish
carpenter who had been crucified, and…as they absurdly believed…had
risen from the dead. A sudden longing for release came upon
her—release from this abysmal loneliness, this discontent, this
lack of
peace
.

Her eyes moved to Alysia’s troubled face as
she stared out the window, her daughter’s hand clasped in hers.
Megara’s heart hardened…no, she wasn’t going to do anything
they
said! She wasn’t going to humiliate herself by
revealing how she felt, or by asking questions about this Jesus.
She was just upset; she would feel better once she was away from
here.

Rachel glanced up at her mother. “Don’t
worry,” she said, in a little over a whisper. “Father will rescue
us.”

* * *

Susanna flattened herself behind a tree as
the carriage sped by in a cloud of dust. The soldiers on horseback
thundered past; she pulled the edge of her palla over her face to
avoid choking. She had just met Cassia and Marcella walking
hurriedly toward the city, and listened with horror as Cassia told
her in a high-pitched, hysterical voice what had happened. Now
Caligula had them both, and Rachel, too. What would he do with such
a child? She shuddered to think of it.

It was obvious that Cassia wouldn’t be
seeking help, or prayer, from the other believers… the woman was
going straight home to cower in a corner. Susanna would have to see
that the others were told.

When the soldiers had completely disappeared
from view, she followed.

CHAPTER XX

The two horses pulling the carriage labored
up the hill until it flattened at the summit, and drew to a stop.
Alysia felt a vague surprise that they were being taken to the
front of the palace, rather than by some side door used for
prisoners. A marble stairway fanning upward from the floor met
their eyes as they were led through an entrance hall filled with
pillars and plants and nude statues. Frescoes and tapestries
adorned the walls; here and there fine Persian carpets lay across
the mosaic tiles.

Followed closely by several soldiers, the
three of them were escorted into an adjoining room, where a great
marble chair sat atop a small platform. Soldiers were there, too,
guarding another prisoner, and Alysia caught her breath. Paulus met
her eyes, his expression strained. He stood tall and straight, with
his hands shackled behind him. Rachel let out a small cry and
almost ran to him, but Alysia caught her arm. Megara merely raised
her eyebrows and looked away.

Petronius left Alysia’s side and went to
stand beside Paulus. A stirring came from an arched doorway behind
the marble chair, and out walked the emperor, followed by his
uncle, and his chief bodyguard. Frowning, Flavius looked briefly at
Paulus and Alysia in turn, his face betraying nothing of his
apprehension. They glanced at him, too, taking care to show no
recognition. Claudius limped to the edge of the platform, as his
nephew seated himself.

“Pa—Paulus Valerius. It’s been many years. I
remember you well.”

“Name of the gods, Uncle, don’t talk to the
prisoners! Next thing I know you’ll be taking them for a stroll in
the garden. Paulus Valerius, you have been a hard one to catch, but
you are caught at last. Captain of the guard, you may go.”

Petronius, who had expected at least a
commendation, if not a reward, looked startled. “Your Majesty—”

“You’re the one who let him get away in the
first place.” Caligula jerked his head at one of the other
soldiers. “Take him away. And give him a shave.”

Petronius squared his heavy shoulders and
stalked forward, turned smartly, and allowed himself to be escorted
from the room. Caligula’s eyes went to Paulus, but then moved
across the breadth of the room to Alysia. His face lit with
appreciation.

“Ah, the beautiful slave. And her beautiful
child.” His gaze went further. He blinked, frowned, and blinked
again. “I know you,” he said, and the light dawned. “You are
supposed to be dead!”

Megara arranged her face in placating lines.
“I was forced to pretend so, Your Majesty, out of fear of
Tiberius.”

“Next time you should go to your grave with
less pomp! My feet hurt for days, and all for nothing. Just because
you are married to a Valerius!”

“I am deeply sorry, your celestial
Majesty.”

It was her use of the word
celestial
that earned her temporary forgiveness. He turned his attention to
Paulus and laughed.

“So now you have two wives! One of them, I
suppose, will have to be done away with. Which one will it be?”

Paulus didn’t answer. Megara turned a pale
green, and Alysia felt Rachel grip her hand so hard it hurt.

“I know which one it
should
be. Tell
me, slave, why you killed Magnus Eustacius.”

“I lifted his sword to protect myself, when
he was about to rape me. He fell upon it.”

“Knowing Magnus, I don’t doubt your story.
But didn’t anyone ever tell you—you had no right to defend
yourself? You are a slave!”

“She is no longer a slave.” Paulus spoke for
the first time. “I gave her her freedom, many years ago.”

“And you, Paulus Valerius, helped her escape.
You are an accessory to this murder.”

“It was not murder.”

Caligula looked slyly at his uncle. “You are
very learned in the law, Clau-Clau. What do you think?”

Claudius considered. He spoke almost without
stammering. “As a slave, she should not have raised the weapon. But
it sounds like—an accident. If Paulus Valerius believed so, then he
cannot be blamed for trying to—spare her life.”

“You are being generous because you like him.
Valerius, I have never forgotten the thrill of seeing you save my
granduncle from assassination. Pulled the old man right out of his
seat! That arrow could easily have gotten you! I would like you as
head of my bodyguard. Flavius, you will be second favorite
bodyguard.”

Caligula looked at Alysia, from head to
torso…to long legs hidden beneath her gown. “What is your name? No
one seemed to know—even your owners, or so they claimed! I think
they were putting me off, to protect Valerius.”