Valley of Decision (40 page)

Lisbeth knew better than to let herself hope this seasoned soldier would take pity on her, but hope was all she had. “We're here to see Cyprianus Thascius.”

“I tried to get rid of her,” the lone guard told his commander.

“It's all right, Flavius,” the commander said. “Our new proconsul is a fool if he thinks the citizens of Carthage will not hear of his plans for their favorite son.” He looked at Lisbeth. “I don't want trouble.”

Lisbeth could feel the crowd growing as anxious as she. “Then let me pass.”

To her surprise, the commander stepped aside. There stood her husband, adorned in his finest election toga, his hair combed, and his face remarkably peaceful despite the lash mark left by the redhead's whip.

The sight of him, alive and whole, instantly buoyed Lisbeth's spirits. “Cyprian!” She threw herself into his arms.

“My love.” His embrace was over far too quickly. “Pontius, you should not have let them come.” Before Lisbeth could accept the blame, Cyprian turned and hugged Maggie. “Thank God you're alive.”

The commander waved them inside and closed the door. “Your friends must be hungry.”

Lisbeth looked to Cyprian for an explanation. “Why is he being so kind?”

Cyprian smiled. “I've told him about the Christ.”

“And I have believed.” The commander lowered his voice. “But I don't know how long I can guarantee your safety.”

“They won't be staying, Commander.” Cyprian's gaze pleaded with Lisbeth to forgo argument.

“I'll give you a moment alone with your family.” The commander donned his cape and helmet and indicated Pontius should go with him.

“We'll be all right,” Lisbeth assured Pontius, then swallowed the fear creeping up her throat.

The crowd's unrest could be heard when the two men exited the front door. The commander was right: they didn't have much time.

*  *  *

MAGGIE BROKE
the tense silence. “Eggie's gone to Rome.” Tears slipped over her lashes. “To convince his grandfather to help you.”

“I don't understand.” Cyprian looked from Maggie to Lisbeth. “How can a stowaway's grandfather help me?”

“Eggie's the successor to the throne,” Lisbeth said.

Cyprian's brows rose. “I'm sure there's more to this story.”

“He's cocky and can really get on your nerves, but deep down he's a good guy,” Maggie said. “And because of the kindnesses the church has shown him”—Maggie wiped at her cheeks—“he's going to tell Valerian about how wonderful Christians really are. How wonderful
you
are.” Maggie was begging now. “That's why we're here. We
have
to delay your trial until Eggie can return with a new edict.”

“There will not be a new edict, Maggie,” Cyprian said gently. “War presses the empire on every border. Even if Valerian wanted to humor his grandson, the emperor needs capital to finance his armies. What better resource than the properties of people not given to war?” Cyprian pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “I can't allow this to continue. Someone has to stand up and say ‘Enough.' ”

“People do horrible things when they're scared,” Maggie argued. “Giving up is one of them.”

Cyprian took her by the shoulders. “More innocent people will die if Maximus does not consider the score settled. I cannot let that happen.” Before Maggie could protest, Cyprian turned and placed his hands on Barek's shoulders.

“After your father's execution, I thought it was my duty to take the weakened believers by the scruff of the neck and bring them back in line. I made mistakes. Being hard on you was one of them.” He released Barek and took a step back. “When your mother asked me to lead the church, we both knew my term as bishop was to last only until you were no longer a storm-whipped reed. I knew when you risked your life for mine in the alley you had become a man of strong conviction. A man not easily deterred. A man I trust with the future of the church.”

“No, not me—I . . .” Barek stuttered.

Cyprian silenced him with a raised palm. “You'll become the leader your mother always thought you would be.” Then Cyprian turned to Maggie.

“Maggie, I regret I won't see you marry”—he took Maggie's hand, and Maggie's gaze darted to Barek. Lisbeth's heart dropped. Her daughter was in love. Did Cyprian see it too? How could she ask Maggie to leave this world now?—“but you deserve to have a man who would die for you as I would for your mother. I'm counting on you to find that man.”

“Daddy, please . . .”

Cyprian joined Maggie's hand to Barek's. “Promise me you'll take my daughter to safety.” He kissed Barek's cheek. “I need a moment with Maggie's mother.”

“I won't go!” Maggie cried.

“You will,” Lisbeth said.

Disbelief scrolled into resignation on Maggie's face and for
once she didn't argue. She pulled her phone from her pocket. “One picture, please?”

“Not now, Maggie,” Lisbeth said.

“Now is all we've got, Mom.”

Lisbeth folded her arms across her chest in an effort to keep her heart from breaking. “You're right.”

Maggie showed Barek how to press the button on her phone. She waved Lisbeth over to stand next to Cyprian, then she squeezed between them. Their family together at last. The Christmas card photo Lisbeth had always dreamed of, minus the terrified stares.

Maggie looped her arms around Lisbeth's and Cyprian's waists. “On the count of three, everyone say ‘Free.' ”

The light flashed. Cyprian flinched. None of them made an effort to move.

Barek started to hand back the phone. “Maggie, are you all right?”

Cyprian pulled his daughter to him, but it was too late. When Maggie realized she was hugging her father for the last time, the sobbing became more than Lisbeth could bear. Cyprian reluctantly handed Maggie off to Barek, who wrapped his arm around her heaving shoulders and led her outside.

Lisbeth waited until they were alone before she allowed the acid flooding her esophagus to erupt. “Die for
me
? Don't make your decision to die about me.”

“Lisbeth, you should know better than anyone that the future depends upon—”

“I know you have to do this, no matter the future. Dying a martyr's death is part of who you were meant to be.” Her words choked to a whisper. “So why isn't this easy? I thought I could come here, get our daughter and my mother, and go home. End of story. And then I fell in love all over again. Not just with you, but
with these people. I can't keep doing this and you can't avoid death forever.”

Cyprian's Adam's apple rose and fell under her disappointed gaze. He had no words, no smooth oratorical explanation. He had only his conviction. From the set of his jaw Lisbeth could see he would never let faith go. And she couldn't help but love him all the more.

Cyprian moved toward her slowly. His fingers skimmed her arm from shoulder to wrist. Her involuntary shudder tightened the invisible tether between them. She could stomp her foot and try to shake free. It would do no good. They were bound, heart and soul. For better or worse.

“You're cold,” Cyprian said softly. He lifted a scarlet cloak from the hook on the wall and wrapped her snugly against him. Encircled in the warmth of his musky scent, Lisbeth felt her resistance melt. She molded to his body, the one she'd always known had been created to fit perfectly against hers.

Cyprian buried his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply. “From the moment I saw you standing upon the slave block,” he whispered, “I knew God had sent you here for a purpose.”

Lisbeth lifted her chin. “To torment you?”

An attempt at a smile wrinkled the corners of his mouth. “To teach me how to love.” His hands cupped her face. He lowered his lips to hers and whispered, “You never gave up on me.”

His salty kiss proved Lisbeth and Maggie weren't the only ones who'd shed tears. She'd said good-bye before, but in the back of her mind there had always been that tiny seed of hope that they would somehow be reunited. This time it was different. This good-bye was final.

This time she would not be the one traveling into the unknown. Cyprian was the one being sent ahead. Not to the twenty-first century. But beyond the boundaries of time. Beyond even
Lisbeth's comprehension of the future. His decision would send him to a world neither of them knew, a world where those who dwelt with God were so happy that time no longer mattered. As enchanting as an eternity in heaven sounded, it was still a world she couldn't quite comprehend.

And from the quiver of his lip, Cyprian was as shattered as she at the prospect of not going together. Would they be able to find each other in this timeless place? Would they know that once upon a time they had loved each other despite all odds?

Lisbeth choked back tears. All she knew for certain was this: once Cyprian passed through death's portal, she could not press her hand to some long-forgotten image and follow him . . . not until the Lord opened the gate that separated them. Until then she would have only her memories.

“You're so beautiful.” Cyprian's thumbs rubbed her wet cheeks. “I'll love you forever.” His kiss, gentle at first, pressed harder. His hands slid slowly over her shoulder and down her back. His fingers anchored at her waist. As they grasped each other, she twined her fingers in his hair and shuttered the chants of the demanding crowd.

This was their last moment, the last time they would ever touch, and Lisbeth intended to savor every second with this man. A man who cringed at her sharp tongue but respected her quick mind. A man of impeccable honor, yet a soul so humble he was willing to forgive those who failed to live up to his standards. A man whose inner strength was as beautiful as his strong body.

Lisbeth banished despair and allowed the warmth of his arms to thaw the chill in her bones. The thumping of his heart against hers declared she had loved not a dream, but a real man.

Cyprian's hold tightened. “When it's over, take your family and go home.”

But she couldn't . . . no, she wouldn't.

Tomorrow was September 14, 258.

Shortly after sunup, the man she loved, the man born to carry the weight of his calling all the way to the foot of the cross, would die.

Lisbeth laid a hand upon his chest and pushed away. “I've risked everything for you.” Uncontrollable shudders shook tears over her lashes. “But I won't watch you die.”

She kissed him hard, then fled, refusing to let him see her total meltdown. Because her tears would tell him what she could not.

She lacked the courage to wait for eternity.

M
ORNING RUMBLED IN WITH
a distant clap of thunder and put an end to Cyprian's sleepless night. He rose from his mat and opened the window. A brisk, northerly wind carried the scent of rain and the hope that Carthage could somehow be washed clean.

Craning his neck, Cyprian searched the sliver of space between two tall buildings for one last glimpse of the sea. Black clouds swirling over blue water had churned the mix into a gray mist. Keeping his spirit from sinking into the fog would be a challenge.

In an effort to clear his mind for prayer, Cyprian dunked his hair in the washbasin. He raised his head and let the water trickle into the bowl. Using his flattened palms, he battled his wet curls into submission. The image of Lisbeth's disappointment, however, refused to be pushed aside. All night he'd wrestled with his decision to relinquish his family's hope in Eggie's persuasive powers. Maybe in Lisbeth's future world rulers listened when a sound case was made for mercy. But in this world, the world his God had called him to serve, there was only one way to make a point: unflinching sacrifice.

Lord, give me the strength. Not just to finish, but to finish well.

Cyprian was so deep in prayer when his host came to deliver the solemn news that the time had come he had to be shaken into awareness. He finger-combed his damp hair, donned his tunic, then reached for the letter he'd written when sleep would not come.

He handed the commander the note. “Could I trouble you to see this is delivered to . . .” He hesitated, for if his death did not accomplish its purpose he did not want anything he'd penned to bring retribution upon Lisbeth before she could reach the time portal, nor upon the church she would leave behind.

Understanding filled the officer's eyes. “I'll see it discreetly delivered into her hands.”

Cyprian could express his gratitude with only a pained nod.

The multitude of people had grown throughout the night despite the commander's attempts to send them home. News of this gathering of support for Cyprian's release had prompted Maximus to issue a full cohort to march the prisoner from the Saturn quarter of the city to the Praetorium.

Cyprian passed through a living hall of spectators who lined the route and perched on gnarled tree branches. He scanned the crowd for one last glimpse of Lisbeth and Maggie, but their beautiful faces were missing from those staring at him now. Relieved, he set his eyes on the path before him.

Though the air was brisk, perspiration trickled down Cyprian's back as he climbed the steps of the Praetorium.

Two solemn-faced guards yanked open the heavy doors to the senatorial chamber. The stink of damp wool, smoking braziers, and condemnation assaulted him one last time.

A
REN'T YOU GOING?” MAGGIE'S
hands trembled with strained hope as she held out a pair of shoes, an undertunic, and a beautiful gown she'd borrowed from Titus's wife. “Barek said he would take us.”

Lisbeth stared at the tattoo on Maggie's wrist.
DAD
. She was willing to give her daughter space, even the opportunity to make her own mistakes. But this time she couldn't give her daughter what she wanted most: one more try at saving her father.