The Protector (20 page)

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 away, 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.

A
diona 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 often the last to know.”

“Perhaps.” A dove cooed nearby and Adiona tossed it a few scraps of bread. “What does it matter anyway? Quin
tus 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.

Pelonia looked at her with wonder. “You know the texts?”

“Just a line of two,” she said. “I heard Quintus read that passage once. That bit stayed with me.”

“You’re welcome to the
ludus
anytime, of course, but I hope you’ll come the first day of the week when several of us Christians meet to read the texts and worship the Lord.”

Adiona shook her head in disbelief. “Christians meeting in a gladiator school? How marvelously clever.”

“Caros didn’t think so the first time he saw us there. Of course, that was before he was a Christian himself. He couldn’t decide if we were brave or suicidal.”

Thinking back to the hard and violent man Caros had been just a few short months ago, she laughed. “I can imagine.”

Pelonia stood. “I must go. Annia is expecting me. I’m helping her with some orphans today. My mother died giving birth to me and I’ve no experience with children. Annia thinks it will be good practice for when the baby comes.”

As always, Pelonia spoke with an accompanying smile, but Adiona sensed a tinge of anxiety in her friend. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother, Pelonia. I have no doubt. You have the natural warmth children need in a parent.”

“How kind. Thank you for saying so. I’m going to do my best. Of course, Caros will be there. He’ll be
such
a good father. I’m going to have to work day and night to keep him from spoiling the child.”

“I agree.” Laughing, Adiona stood. “Would you mind if I came with you today?”

“Of course not. I should have invited you myself.”

“It’s just that Quintus suggested I use my resources to help others and I like children very much. Perhaps I can help in some way.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea. I’m ready to leave when you are.”

Surprise brightened Annia’s face when Pelonia and Adiona arrived at the small
domus
inside Rome’s city gates. The house, with its low ceilings and plain cement floors, was dry, but cold, despite the small cooking fire. A dozen dirty children of various ages had assembled in hopes of receiving a noonday meal. Annia and another woman, Vergilia, had organized the group into two camps. Half the children were setting rough-hewn tables with colorful, but mostly chipped ceramic dishes and cups, while the other half helped to wash vegetables for a savory lamb stew.

Fresh bread that Adiona and Pelonia brought with them rounded out the meal. Adiona wished she’d thought to bring the extra fruit she’d bought at the Forum the previous day. She made a mental note to have one of her people send it and a round of cheese over for the dinner hour.

After the children ate, they washed and dried the dishes. Several of them slept on pallets on the floor. “They’re desperate for a safe place to sleep,” Annia whispered to keep from waking them.

“Is this house yours?” Adiona asked the older woman.

“No, it belongs to another Christian brother of ours. He’s letting us use it until he can find new tenants.”

“Then where will the children go?”

“I don’t know,” Annia said. “I trust the Lord will provide us with somewhere else to use.”

Within a week, Adiona bought an abandoned
domus
a short distance from the Forum. Large and multistoried, the building needed repair, but there was an adequate kitchen and large rooms for a number of children to sleep.

Caros and Pelonia arrived to inspect the place. “This is marvelous,” Pelonia said.

“It is,” Caros agreed as he knocked on a wall to test its sturdiness. “If you’d like, I’ll hire an engineer to come and check the foundations and the soundness of the place.”

“I did that before I bought it,” Adiona said wryly. “I was going to offer one of the properties I already own, but this one is closer to the Forum. I’m hoping beggar children will find us and we can get them off the streets. It can’t be safe for them wherever they’re staying now.”

“What are you going to do with all of them?” Caros asked. “You can’t feed every orphan in Rome.”

“Who says we can’t?” Adiona lifted her chin. “You should know by now, Caros, I don’t do things in half measures. With my income unlimited as it is thanks to my various investments, and the sizable donations you and others like you will make, I’m thinking we can help quite a few children for a long time to come.”

“What sizable donation?” he asked.

Pelonia laughed and elbowed him gently in the ribs. “Don’t be a miser, my love. Adiona has made amazing plans.”

“I’m sure she has. Everything she sets her mind to, she does well.”

Warmed by the compliment, Adiona showed them the rest of the house. “The garden is a mess, but I’m thinking
we can grow herbs and vegetables, and plant fruit-bearing trees here. It would lessen the food expenses and give the children fresh produce. The ornamental fountains can be replaced with more practical ones to ensure the children have clean water to drink and bathe.

“There are ten bedrooms upstairs. I thought we could have beds built like those in your gladiator barracks to give even more children a place to sleep. I’m already looking to hire several people to keep the place clean. We’ll also need a gardener and a cook or two. As things progress perhaps others will be needed or the children can take on chores. I noticed the other day, Annia had them setting the table and helping prepare the meal.”

Caros grinned. “You’ve worked it all out. Has Annia offered any other advice?”

“Yes. She’s in charge. I’m only trying to give aid. She suggested we put the older children to work in the garden to help them learn a trade. The same with cooking and repairing the building. She says so many of them end up in brothels or thieving because they have no useful knowledge to help them when they’re older. Of course, so much has to be done, but perhaps in the future we can even hire tutors and…” She flushed, embarrassed to realize she was rambling.

Caros wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “This is excellent work. If anyone can make it succeed, you can.”

It was dark when Quintus arrived at the
ludus.
His only stops had been to change horses or to sleep for a few hours. With the promise of seeing Adiona as his goal, he’d shortened the ten-day journey from Amiternum to eight.

Guards opened the gate, and he made his way to the
domus.
Caros and Pelonia were sitting down to their evening meal.

“Come and join us,” Pelonia said. “You must be famished. You look like you’ve been through a war.”

“Not quite,” Quintus said, declining the offer. He scrubbed his bearded chin. “I’m road-weary and filthy.”

“Then go take a bath and change,” Caros insisted. “We’ll wait. Hurry, we have much to tell you.”

Once he was clean and dressed, Quintus went back to the inner garden where his friends were waiting. Surrounded by torches to ward off the cold, couches had been set up in the peristyle. The aroma of various dishes teased his hungry stomach.

“What news is there?” Quintus asked as they ate a first course of steaming fish chowder.

“News in general?” Pelonia asked. “Or news of Adiona?”

Quintus dropped his spoon, splashing drops of the hot liquid on his hand. “Is Adiona well? Has something happened to her?”

“Several excellent things,” Caros said, grinning at his wife. “Too bad her news isn’t ours to tell.”

“Yes, you must go see her tomorrow without delay,” Pelonia agreed. “She’s not the same person she was when you left. First, though, I think you should rest and shave. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you in any form, but as a woman, I’d suggest you go to see her looking less like something Cat dragged in.”

Relieved to learn Adiona was well and receptive to seeing him, he was a little annoyed by the couple’s obvious fun at his expense.

“Since you won’t tell me more of Adiona, what is the
general news? I’ve been gone almost three weeks. What’s happened?”

“We’re having a baby,” Caros said, his smile brighter than the oil lamps lighting the garden.

“Congratulations!” Quintus exclaimed, happy for his friends, even though talk of children reminded him of Fabius. “God be praised.”

“There’s also a new orphanage Annia is opening. With the help of a new benefactress, they’ve bought a house to shelter at least fifty children.”

His thoughts constantly on Adiona, he remembered the talk they’d had and her interest in helping orphans. “Do you think Adiona might be welcome in such a venture? She told me once she’d like to help in something like this.”

“Oh, I’m certain she’d be welcome,” Pelonia said. “Without a doubt.”