Valley of Decision (30 page)

Maggie shifted uncomfortably beneath the praise. Urns stacked fifty to a hundred high surrounded them. “We can't stay here.” She tried to push up, but the sudden motion gave her the feeling jugs of ashes were flying around her head.

G-Pa eased her back into her grandmother's lap. “You aren't going anywhere just yet, young lady.”

“Did I say anything while I was out?”

“You said ‘Forgive me' over and over,” Jaddah whispered.

Maggie moaned.

“Forgive you for what?” G-Pa wanted to know.

The knot began to uncoil inside her. Maggie emptied herself of the shameful story of Ruth's urn: How she'd been so desperate to make it up to Barek for her part in Ruth's death that she'd
thrown a fit until he finally agreed to take her with him to bury his mother outside the city. How she'd twisted her ankle and cried like a baby and that's how and why she and Barek had come to hide in this place. And when the soldiers discovered them, Barek had to choose between saving her or his mother's ashes.

“I'm sorry. I never thought”—she dared to raise her eyes and saw her grandparents sitting with their mouths open, too stunned to speak—“a little picture could cause so much hurt. But that's always been my problem . . . I don't think.”

G-Pa reached for her. “I'm glad the mystery is solved.” Tears glittered in his eyes. “Aren't you, Magdalena?” Where was his rage? His anger at being separated from his wife for nearly thirty years.

“I can't imagine our lives without our precious Maggie.” Her grandmother leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You and your mother are proof of how splendidly God uses broken potsherds.”

She wondered how her mother would feel once she learned Maggie was the artist responsible for bringing her parents together and for tearing them apart. Her mom was still trying to compensate for feeling abandoned by Magdalena. Deep down, Maggie knew her mother didn't want her ever to feel abandoned. That's why she never let her out of her sight. The truth that she had been too self-absorbed to see it hit her hard now.

Maggie accepted hugs and reassurances she did not deserve. She would make it up to her mom by taking very good care of her mother's parents until they could all be together again. She'd need a plan. Possibly it was a little late to perfect this skill, but from here on out, she was determined to use more than the artistic half of her brain. Who knew? She might even surprise both Barek and her mother by actually coming up with a viable way to get them all out of this mess. At the very least, she owed it to these people she loved to try.

S
TONES AND VEGETABLES WHIZZED
across the melee in the Forum. A rotten tomato smacked Maximus in the chest. The bloody stain spreading across the front of his snowy white toga matched the fear sweeping through his body. He dove behind the judge's seat and pressed his upset stomach to the stage floor.

His bodyguard snatched a shield from the hands of the nearest soldier and flew to his aid. “Why did you order Cyprianus Thascius to be taken under house arrest?” Kaeso shouted, deflecting a pomegranate. “Could you not see that the people hated your verdict?”

“Save your lecture.” Maximus poked his head up long enough to shout, “Get me out of here!” A rock hit him square between the eyes. “Ahhhh!” He pressed his hand to the stinging insult. “See what you've done!”

“Me?” His servant deflected flying debris with the fleet-footed skill of a trained soldier. “I did not condemn their healer to death.”

Maximus used his elbows to slither closer to the protection of his servant's shield. “Think of the chaos that would ensue if servants got away with killing their masters.”

“And what do you call this?” Kaeso veered right to fend off a rotten fish, leaving Maximus in the open.

“Don't look at me like that. I had no choice.” A fist-size stone grazed Maximus's shoulder. He rolled behind Kaeso's shield.

“There's always a choice.” Kaeso hooked him under the arm. “I hear your chariot approaching.” He hauled him to his feet. “Stay close, and keep your head down.”

Maximus clung to Kaeso's shoulders. His nails dug into his servant's sinewy flesh in hopes of salvaging more than this day. His self-respect was at stake.

Five black horses galloped into the Forum, clearing a wide path on their way to the podium. The driver reined them hard, and the lead horse reared and pawed at the startled protestors.

“Run!” Kaeso moved forward, shield in front, head down. Maximus raised his hands to protect his face and made a flying dive into the chariot. “To the arena,” Kaeso ordered.

“No!” Maximus rose to his knees and grabbed his servant's tunic. “I can't go there! They'll kill me!”

“You can issue pardons and undo all of this.” He pried Maximus loose. “Now, get down.” Kaeso shoved him to the floorboard and snapped the shield over the tiny space as if trapping a lizard in a jar.

The driver cracked the whip and they spun out of the Forum. From his crouched position, Maximus could hear women and children screaming, dropping their stones, and diving out of the path of the speeding vehicle.

What had he done?

He'd expected a smattering of disappointment when he announced his judgment, for every person of note had his followers, but how had a slave woman and an above-average solicitor garnered such support? If only he'd listened to Titus and allowed someone local to preside over the trial, he would not be fleeing the Forum like some cheap herbalist whose tonics were nothing more than colored water.

As his chariot raced through the city, Maximus dropped his head to his knees and wrapped his arms around the terror twisting in his gut.
The farther they traveled from the Forum, the louder the roar of the crowd and the faster his heartbeat. He would be lucky if these barbarians didn't crucify him. Shudders of sheer terror shook his body.

Who was he kidding? He wasn't brave, and after he learned the acting trade he wouldn't have to act brave anymore. What would it hurt if he released his prisoners? Crucifying the healer would not bring back Aspasius from the dead. Why should Maximus be the one to suffer for the evil deeds of the former proconsul? Besides, a little goodwill could go a long way toward making his tenure here tolerable. If he granted Cyprian a pardon, he could dump the restoration of Carthage into the solicitor's lap and free his time to do what he really wanted to do: study under Epolon and become the greatest actor the world had ever seen.

Kaeso was right. It wasn't too late to fix this. He would grant the pardons. Set both Magdalena and Cyprian free. His frowning face relaxed as he imagined an appreciative and adoring audience.

Maximus tapped on the shield to signal his servant and announce his plan. But the shield was not removed. He pounded. Still the barrier was not removed. His cramped space seemed to be growing warmer and warmer. He ripped the greenery from his head and used the edge of his toga to sop the sweat and blood trickling down his neck. The more he mopped, the thicker the air became inside the chariot. An acrid burn sizzled in his throat. His knuckles rubbed the sting in his eyes.

Smoke!

Was his vehicle on fire? Gasping for air, he pounded frantically on the bottom of the shield. “Kaeso, I smell smoke. Stop! Let me out!”

The chariot ground to a sudden halt. Jumpy horses skittered over the curb. The chariot rolled right, sending Maximus crashing into the side. Then the vehicle box teetered as if it were going to go over and fell back on its wheels.

“Kaeso! Let me out!”

His servant lifted the shield. Thick smoke flooded the cramped compartment. “You don't want to see this.”

Maximus burst out coughing. Intense heat warmed his back. He pivoted toward the strange roar.

“My theater!” White-hot flames danced across the stage, pillaging the set pieces and his aspirations of freedom. “Noooo!” His horrified shout sliced through every flight of fancy he'd dared consider since his banishment to Carthage. “Not my theater!”

He flew from the chariot. Giving no heed to Kaeso's pleas for his return, he pulled his toga over his head and raced to save his dreams.

Blasts of heat hit him in the face, sucking the air from his lungs. But he would not be deterred. As if chopping wood, Maximus slapped his heavy wool toga at the hungry fingers of fire tearing into the newly painted props—a forest of gnarled trunks and leafless branches. He inhaled noxious fumes and soldiered on, beating his way to the misanthropic farmer's cottage that had been designed for the upcoming show. Epolon had promised to reward his hard work with a part in this tale of a young noble who falls in love with a peasant girl. Of course, the director had made it clear Maximus wasn't ready to have a speaking role, but portraying a mute woodland nymph would be a start to his career nonetheless.

A firm hand stayed Maximus's toga flinging. “You're going to get hurt.” Kaeso had removed his tunic. Sweat glistened on his heaving chest. “Please, master, return to the chariot.”

“No! We must save everything.” Maximus swiped away sweat blurring his eyes and started for the nearest flame. From the corner of his eye he noticed his servant fighting alongside him and he was encouraged to fight harder. Soon people came from every direction, water sloshing from the jugs they carried. Their liquid offerings
were like spitting in the face of an angry god. Billowing black clouds whooshed toward the sky and obscured the sun.

“Help!” A distant cry was but a kitten's mew above the building roar of flames, but it was a voice Maximus recognized immediately.

“Epolon!” Maximus sifted through the haze to locate his mentor. Perched atop thirty feet of scaffolding was his beloved teacher. Epolon clung to a corner of the heavy tapestry that was draped between a semicircle of twelve massive stone pillars. “Leave it, my friend!”

The wind shifted. The carnivorous blaze immediately switched its attention from the charred bones of flimsy set pieces and began eating its way to the scaffolding, devouring Maximus's hopes of saving the show. Horror seized him. The fire wasn't after the show. It was headed straight for his only hope for the future.

“Get down, Epolon!” His mentor could not hear him over the deafening march of hungry flames. “Get down!”

Maximus raised his forearm to shield his face. Intense heat singed the hair on his arms. He lowered his head, pulled the neck of his tunic over his nose, and charged toward Epolon. He was halfway between the stage lip and the scaffolding when two giant hands grabbed his shoulders. “Go back, master!”

“Not without Epolon!” He pointed to the man frantically working to free the stage curtains. “We must save my instructor!”

“I'll get him.” Kaeso ensnared Maximus under the arms and began dragging him toward the lip of the stage despite the pummeling Maximus gave him with his fists. Once they reached the edge of the stage, Kaeso gave him a big push and sent him flying into the musicians' pit.

Tumbling head over heels, Maximus landed on the stone floor with a jarring thud. The impact knocked the breath from his distressed
lungs. He scrambled to his feet and climbed the wall between the pit and the audience seats. Coughing smoke and soot, he clawed at his watery eyes. From his front-row seat, the tragedy played out only fifty feet from him.

“Kaeso, no!”

At the back of the stage Kaeso had reached the scaffolding. Flames chased his servant's assent up the wooden crossbeams. He'd just climbed aboard the plank platform where Epolon held tightly to the curtain when something exploded. Maximus's hands flew to his face as a demon-eyed head of seething flames rose high above the two men.

The cloud of fire rained down its wrath at the exact moment greedy flames ignited the scaffolding beneath his mentor's feet. Orange and yellow tongues climbed up the wooden support beams and licked Kaeso's boots. The frightened director jumped for the heavy tapestry. With the skill of a circus performer, Epolon managed to snag two handfuls. He held on with one hand and motioned for Kaeso to join him. But they both knew the fabric from which Epolon hung could support only one. Kaeso was stranded, sandwiched between fire from above and fire from below.

“Kaeso, I'm coming!” Maximus raced for the side entrance, rage pumping strength into his legs. When he was less than fifteen feet from the stage the scaffolding collapsed. He stood frozen, watching his servant plunge into the roiling flames, like a lobster the gods had dropped into a boiling pot. “Kaeso!” Maximus released a scream so painful he doubled over and vomited.

“Help!” Epolon's shrieks drew Maximus immediately upright.

Through his tears he could see his wiry director, still clutching handfuls of fabric and hanging suspended over the incinerated stage. Epolon began to kick the air as if he were a bird trying to take flight. Swinging back and forth, he kicked harder and harder, aiming for the next pillar. For a brief, hopeful moment it looked as
if Epolon would reach his goal and from there be able to shinny down to safety.

Suddenly the foundations beneath the stage groaned. A cracking snap echoed against the stone seating dug into the hillside. The pillar from which Epolon hung swayed, a little unsteadily at first, then grew more and more wobbly.

Maximus could tell the teetering stone longed to be free of the added weight. He had to get Epolon out of there. Maximus took a step forward, tripped over the hem of his tunic, and fell flat on his face. Before he could get to his feet, the pillar from which Epolon swung crashed to the stage. Epolon plunged into the hissing flames with an animalistic scream. Maximus managed to right himself just as the force of Epolon's rapid descent jerked the fabric attached to the next pillar. The adjoining marbled post fell to the stage in a thundering boom. One by one each pillar toppled. Within seconds the entire structure had crumbled into a pile of kindling sticks. Sparks flew fifty feet high and showered burning ash upon the staircase where Maximus stood helpless.