Captive Heart (Truly Yours Digital Editions) (8 page)

Cassius couldn’t hold his gaze. He looked back to the rippling surface of the Tiber reflected by the moon’s bright light.

“I don’t know. To me, Anticus is my father, and always will be.”

“That’s understandable. Perhaps we could go on as we have been.” His voice grew soft. “I have always loved you, Cassius.”

Love. The mere word left Cassius feeling cold. “As you loved my mother?”

Trajan smiled slightly, wrapping both muscular arms around his pulled-up legs. “ ‘If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.’ ”

The words, spoken with such authority, moved Cassius’s heart, and goose bumps appeared on his sun-darkened skin. Narrow eyed, he studied Trajan.

“What kind of love are you speaking of?”

Trajan took his time answering. “There is a love that is greater than all loves. When you ask if I loved your mother, you speak of one kind. I could not love your mother as I love you. The two are incomparable.”

Anger flashed from Cassius’s eyes. “I hear it in your voice. You have answered my question. You
did not
love my mother. She was nothing more than a. . .a diversion.”

“That’s not true. I honestly thought that I loved her.”

“Then how do you know you didn’t?”

Trajan plucked a small rock from the ground and sent it sailing towards the river. It rippled the surface with unerring accuracy.

“I met another woman some time later. Her image has stayed in my heart ever since. I have never been able to love another, and what I felt for your mother pales in comparison.”

“This woman,” Cassius ground out. “Why didn’t you marry her? What happened to her?”

It took some time for Trajan to answer, and then his voice was laced with regret. “She was married.”

Cassius snorted. “You seem to have a desire for other men’s wives.”

The dry tone of Cassius’s voice sent the color flooding to Trajan’s cheeks. Suddenly, he got to his feet.

“Think what you like, Cassius, but it doesn’t change the fact that I love you. In my heart, you have always been a son to me.”

Instantly repentant, Cassius rose beside him. His own feelings were in utter chaos, but one thing he knew with certainty: He still felt a great love and respect for Trajan. “I’m sorry. I have always felt the same way about you, and though I can’t see you as my father, I can still see you as my friend.”

Cassius slowly held out his arm to the other man, and Trajan hesitantly clasped his forearm. A silent message of understanding passed between them.

“You spoke of another kind of love? What were you talking about? And what is this about angels, prophecies, and burning flames? When you spoke, you sounded almost like an oracle.”

Trajan smiled slightly. “Another time, Cassius. You have too much on your mind now to be able to understand such mysteries.” He turned away and started down the hill. “Besides, your father should speak to you first.”

Cassius watched him walk away and felt sudden fear grip his heart. His father? What was Trajan talking about? What would Anticus know of the prophecies Trajan was speaking of?

He gave up trying to sort it all out. His mind was numb from thinking. Right now, all he wanted to do was to go home and sleep. Perhaps he would awaken in the morning and find that it was all a dream.

Turning, he followed Trajan’s steps back down the hill.

❧

Democritus showed Samah where the scraps of food for Sentinel were kept. Seeing the great quantity of waste, she couldn’t help but think what such “rubbish” would have meant to the starving people of Jerusalem. Shaking her head at such morbid thoughts, she fixed a plate and laid it before the dog. Democritus watched her skeptically.

“I’m telling you, he won’t eat. He has never eaten for anyone except the master.”

Sentinel sniffed the plate and then began eating hungrily. Democritus’s eyebrows flew upwards in amazement.

“I can’t believe it.” He eyed Samah suspiciously. “How did you manage it?”

She didn’t know how to answer him. A slight grin tugged at her mouth when she thought of explaining angels to his untutored mind. She shrugged her shoulders.

Still doubtful, Democritus glanced from the dog to the girl. It was obvious that he thought her some kind of sorceress. When he finally left them in the kitchen, Samah sighed with relief.

Pulling a chair next to the table, Samah picked a peach from the wooden bowl resting there. She munched on the fruit while she watched the dog. Glancing down at her foot, she smiled softly.

She thought again of the generosity behind Cassius’s gesture. Already she was growing accustomed to the false foot, and it did, indeed, give her more freedom. It was like having a new life. If only her parents could see. A familiar pang of loneliness ran through her.

When Cassius had knelt before her to promise her that he meant her no harm, she had noticed something lurking in his dark eyes that left her vaguely unsettled. Could she trust him to mean what he said? Could she trust herself? There was that in his look that sent her heart thrumming in response. Was it truly fear she felt, or something else?

After Sentinel finished eating, she took his plate and washed it, returning it to its place on the shelf by the door. She stood in the kitchen and turned in a complete circle, making certain that nothing was out of place. Satisfied, she held out her hand to the dog.

“I suppose you are to stay with me,” she told him, smiling. “Well, then, let us go to my room so that we may retire for the night.”

Since she had no lamp for light, she used the bright light of the moon to prepare herself for the night. She replaced her tunic with a softer, lighter one meant for sleeping. Climbing onto her couch, she pulled a sheet over her and settled down for the night. Sentinel came and lay on the floor at her feet. Sighing, he placed his head on his paws.

Samah turned her look to the moon, visible outside her bedroom window. Its brightness added shadows to the interior of her compartment, giving the room an oddly menacing appearance. Reaching down to where Sentinel lay, she stroked his head, feeling suddenly protected.

Lord
, she prayed.
Why am I here? What do you want me to do?

When she thought of the fate of her people, she could only be thankful that Jehovah had spared her. But why? What did the Almighty want her to do in this heathen city, among this heathen people?

Words her parents frequently spoke came to her mind now.
We must seek and save the lost.

There were certainly enough of those in this evil city, but what could one person do? Then, as if the Lord spoke clearly to her mind, she remembered story after story about the apostle Paul. He had reached out to the Gentile people, and they had responded by the thousands. The world was truly hungry for a savior. Hadn’t Jesus Himself said so?

The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.

She must be an open vessel that the Lord could use for his own purpose. She must be ready to speak when the opportunity arose. And above all, she must stifle this mind-numbing fear that gripped her when she thought about those who had been martyred before her.

Her eyes closed, and sleep came. She was unaware of Cassius coming into her chamber and staring down at her or of his commanding Sentinel to stay. For a long time the commander watched her sleeping. He reached out a hand and lightly traced her soft lips, causing her to stir restlessly.

Pulling his hand away, he turned and left the room.

For the next several weeks, Cassius left Samah entirely alone. Any demands he had on her time he relayed through Democri-tus. Though the Greek slave was ambiguous in his feelings towards Samah, he was meticulous in her care. Since Cassius thought so highly of the girl, the slave would do his duty by her.

Daily, Samah walked stiffly along the streets of Rome, her unusual gait causing many eyes to turn her way. Still, it was her flawless beauty that made them turn a second time, their eyes following her progress through the busy streets. Only the huge beast ambling at her side kept many from approaching her.

Unmindful of the speculative looks she was receiving, Samah enjoyed the days of leisure with Sentinel as her companion. She was fascinated by the vast array of goods offered in the market, and they often spent their time wandering through the forums.

Sometimes Democritus would give her a coin and ask her to purchase things for him. Samah thought it fun to haggle with the vendors, and she grew adept at outmaneuvering them in their prices. More often than not, one look into her gentle eyes would cause a merchant to suddenly drop his price. Unaware that this was the case, Samah thrilled at her good fortune.

The agony of the separation from her homeland and family began to diminish to a dull ache. Though she continued to pray for her family, her past became almost dreamlike, the present her only true reality.

The fall air had a chill to it today, and Samah was thankful for the warm clothes that Cassius had provided her with. She tugged the warm cloak about her shoulders and pulled the dry flowers in the beds out and threw them into a pile.

She was working on the bougainvillea bushes when Anticus came to see her. He looked old and worn, lines carved deeply along the sides of his mouth. When he smiled, though, the years seemed to drop away.

“Hello, my dear. How are you today?”

Uncertain of how to respond, Samah hesitated. Though Anticus often treated her like a daughter, she was still nothing more than a slave.

“I am well, my lord.”

Anticus glanced around the garden. “And where is your protector today?”

Frowning slightly, she told him, “Sentinel is with Cassius.”

Anticus crossed the garden to stand before her. His eyes searched her face thoroughly for a long moment. Seemingly satisfied, his smile grew larger.

“I have come to speak with you about my son.”

“My lord?”

Taking her by the hand, he pulled her to the marble bench. Releasing her hand, he seated himself and patted the marble beside him. “Come, Samah. Sit with me awhile. I need someone to talk to, and I think you are just the person.”

Puzzled, Samah waited for him to continue. Anticus adjusted his toga comfortably and then turned to her.

“I praise God that He sent you to us. If anyone can reach Cassius with God’s word, it will be you.”

Surprised, Samah shook her head. Anticus stopped her when she tried to speak. Holding up a hand, he told her, “No. Don’t interrupt. Let me finish.”

Lifting her hand into his, he smiled slightly. “Even the Lord
wasn’t accepted by His own family until after He died.
Families are strange that way. Fathers and sons especially. I think it has to do with the male ego and not showing weakness before someone you look up to.”

Samah returned his smile, squeezing his fingers gently. “I have thought the same myself. Too often someone turns away from the truth because they fear looking weak to those closest to them.”

“You are very wise for your years, my dear.” He cocked his head to the side. “How old are you?”

Nonplused by this turn of the conversation, Samah stammered, “I. . .I’m twenty years of age.”

“Cassius is twenty-two, did you know?”

Searching her mind for a response, she finally settled for a shrug. “No. I did not.”

“Only twenty-two years of age, and already a commander in Rome’s army. Quite an accomplishment, is it not?”

Thankfully, he didn’t expect an answer. Eyes shining with pride, he continued.

“He has shown himself to be fearless among the enemy.” The smile suddenly dimmed on his face. He looked past Samah, a faraway look on his face. “But he is still afraid of death. At least where I am concerned.”

“He loves you very much,” Samah told him softly.

Anticus returned his look to her. Sadness etched his features. “I am still going to die.” Seeing her distress at this abrupt statement, he patted her hand. “Now, now, my dear. You of all people should know this is not a bad thing. To be with Christ Jesus is something to look forward to. My sadness comes from knowing that I probably will not have the time to convince my son of God’s love.”

Samah didn’t know what to say. The paleness of Anticus’s skin and the lines graven into his face spoke of the progressiveness of his illness. His dark eyes, so full of life, reached out to her with hope.

“But you, Samah, you will have the time I do not.”

Getting up from the bench, Samah twisted her fingers in agitation. Her voice was full of anguish. “But what can I do? I am only a slave.”

Frowning heavily, Anticus made a tisking sound with his tongue. “And that is something we must remedy, also. To be a slave of Christ is one thing, but a slave of man is something else entirely. I will have to speak with my son about this.”

“You will have to speak with me about what, Father?”

Both Samah and Anticus jumped at the quiet voice. Though his face was without expression, Samah wondered just how much of their discussion Cassius had overheard.

Anticus glared at his son. “Really, Cassius. You might give someone a little notice of your arrival.”

Lifting one brow arrogantly, Cassius looked from one to the other. “Unless something has happened in my absence that I am as yet unaware of, this is still my villa.”

Samah cast her eyes to the ground, her body tensing at the coldness of his voice. “If you will excuse me, my lord.”

“No, I will not,” he told her inflexibly. His eyes wandered over her in slow perusal, causing butterflies to flitter through her stomach. “I would like to hear more of this conversation that I interrupted.”

Samah quickly lifted her gaze, and then dropped it again. Cassius stood like some silent statue, his uniform giving him the appearance of an unyielding warrior. Sentinel stood by his side. The two of them presented an awesome front, and Samah could well understand why Cassius had made the rank of commander so young.

Undaunted by his son’s brash behavior, Anticus smiled. “I have not seen you lately, Cassius.”

Flushing slightly at his father’s intended rebuke, Cassius pulled his gaze away from Samah and concentrated on his father.

“I have been busy.”

“Ah, I see.”

Anticus looked his son squarely in the eye, his knowing look making Cassius squirm with guilt. Knowing that his father had a penchant for making him feel like some misbehaving schoolboy, Cassius quickly took the offensive.

“Since you are here, why don’t you come into the triclinium where it’s more comfortable. I will have Democritus bring us some refreshment, and we will continue this. . .um. . . most interesting conversation.”

“I would like that,” Anticus agreed placidly.

Cassius spoke to Samah without looking at her. “You, too.”

Her blood seemed to turn to ice. Regardless of what Anticus believed about his son, and regardless of her own confused feelings where he was concerned, Samah was still wary of the Roman. When he looked as he did now, she could believe him capable of anything.

Anticus settled among the cushions on one of the couches, while Samah stood uncertainly nearby. Seeing her standing there, Anticus motioned to the seat beside him.

“Come, my dear. Have a seat.”

She glanced fearfully at Cassius, but his face revealed nothing of his thoughts. He nodded permission, and Samah reluctantly took her seat.

Cassius stood before his father. “What is it you wish to discuss with me?”

At his father’s pointed look, Cassius seated himself on the couch opposite them. Anticus leaned forward.

“Cassius, my son, I love you.”

The quiet words disarmed Cassius as his father had intended. His shoulders slumped in defeat. How could he stay angry after such a proclamation?

Reaching back with one hand, Cassius began to massage the tense muscles of his neck, rolling his head slowly from side to side. Though he answered his father, he couldn’t bring himself to look at him.

“I know that.” Recognizing Anticus’s tactics for what they were, he smiled wryly. “All right, Father. I am calm now. What did you wish to discuss with me?”

“Cassius, slavery is wrong,” Anticus stated without preamble.

Cassius leaned forward, impaling Anticus with his suddenly intense gaze. “When did you decide this?” he asked slowly. “You have owned slaves for years.”

“When I became aware of how much God loves His people, I set my slaves free.”

Samah could see from the shocked look on his face that
Cassius was trying to analyze what Anticus had just told him.
Cassius’s face darkened.

“This Christian religion you’ve embraced. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

Anticus looked at his son sadly. “How can I tell you? It is so much more than a religion. It’s a way to spend eternity with the One who created the universe.”

Thinking he understood, Cassius breathed out slowly. “Father,” he said softly. “I know that you want to believe that there is life after death, but it’s just not so.”

“But it is! God has given us a way to be with Him for all time. Only man’s sin keeps him from being in the presence of God. He loves us, Cassius. He made a way for us to go from being illegitimate children to being coheirs with His only Son.”

The reference to illegitimacy stung. “You are speaking of my being a child of an illicit affair.”

Realizing his mistake, Anticus paled. “No, my son. I was not referring to just you, but to all of us.”

“All of us? All of us
Romans
you mean.”

Samah’s quiet voice interrupted the tense exchange.

“My lord, every person born is an illegitimate child.”

At Cassius’s glacial stare she was reluctant to continue, but with a nod, Anticus urged her on.

“The Lord Jesus, God’s true Son, told us that every man that is not for Him is against Him. There are only two masters in this world: God and Satan. If you don’t serve God, then by your very denial you must serve Satan.”

“Satan?” Though confused, Cassius was intrigued by what she had to say. “Who is this Satan?”

Samah sighed. “It’s a very long story.”

“I like stories.” Cassius’s voice was glacial. Feeling her stomach begin to churn, Samah had to take her courage firmly in hand. Haltingly, she began to tell the story of creation and the fall of man. She took him through the prophecies in Scripture, all the way to Christ’s birth and death, and finally to His resurrection.

Democritus came in to light the lamps, and Cassius noticed for the first time the darkening shadows in the room. It had taken more time than he had imagined for Samah to finish her tale. He glanced at his father.

“And you believe all this?”

Samah’s heart sank. Had he heard nothing, then? Would he believe it all just a fanciful story?

There was a resolute look of faith on Anticus’s face. “It’s hard to explain, Cassius, but when you accept it as fact, and do as the Lord commanded, your heart is suddenly filled with peace. Somehow, you just
know
that it is right.”

“And this Jesus was a Jew?” Cassius demanded, his smile dubious. “Yet the Jews have slaves of their own. Is slavery then only forbidden to Gentiles?”

Anticus shook his head. “No, Cassius. Jesus came to fulfill the word, and to change the world. The life He suggests would make the world a perfect place.”

“Are you then perfect?” Cassius asked, glancing from his father to Samah skeptically.

Samah answered. “No, my lord. We are made perfect by His blood, but we are still an imperfect people. Jesus told us to be perfect as the heavenly Father is perfect.”

Cassius rose to his feet and began to pace the floor. “So He wants you to do the impossible.” He stopped and glared at both of them. “And you are willing to follow such idiocy?”

“Cassius,” Anticus cajoled. “Have there not been times when your commander has told you to do something that you thought was impossible?” Seeing that Cassius realized the truth of the statement, Anticus continued. “Did it stop you from following orders? Did you tell him you couldn’t and that it would be
idiocy
to follow him? Of course you didn’t. You continued on. They didn’t expect you to win, but they did expect you to
try
.”

Cassius looked from one to the other. “Your religion is a religion of paradoxes. It’s a wonder that anyone believes such a thing.”

Anticus’s shoulders sagged in defeat. Looking tired and worn, he got slowly to his feet.

When he saw his father’s sadness, Cassius regretted speaking so bluntly. Better to let his father believe in some insane religion that would give him peace and offer him hope. Truth to tell, he longed for such himself.