The Master's Wall Read online

  “Hey!” He blocked it. “You’ve got a good aim. Maybe you should become a Gladiatrix and throw javelins at your competitors?”

  “I’ll throw one at you if you don’t hold your tongue.”

  “Oh yes, I better hold my tongue, you might decide to poison me.”

  Shaking her head, she giggled. Taking a deep breath, she crossed her arms, recalling why she came.

  “David.”

  He looked at her. She knew the seriousness of her tone would get his attention.

  “I can’t remember what he looks like.”

  David straightened and furrowed his brows.

  “Do you remember what they looked like?” She kicked a pinecone.

  “Who?”

  “Your parents.”

  He stopped stretching and stared at her. His eyes clouded, no longer teasing.

  “Sometimes,” he said. “But it’s becoming difficult to remember. I’ll dream about them, and I’ll see my mother and father clearly, but as soon as I wake up, their faces fade.”

  “That’s exactly how it happens to me.” She stepped closer. “Do you remember much about them?”

  “Yes, but some things I’ve forgotten.”

  “I can remember the last night I saw my mpampas. He tucked me in bed. For some reason I can remember that real well.” His strong arms and hands moved over the blankets. His dark, curly hair brushed against her cheek when he kissed her. She tried to see his eyes. She had only to look at David to see his eyes. “But his face . . . I can’t see his face anymore like I used to.”

  They walked in silence. A cricket chirped nearby and a squirrel scurried up a tree.

  “We have busts of Grandfather, Mother, and of everyone else, so I won’t be forgetting what they look like.” She wanted to spit. “But because of Mpampas’s faith, they threw out any remembrance of him.” All because of his faith, she had nothing. “I remember Mpampas telling me about his God, but not very much. You worship the same God as him—” Maybe David could provide the answers to Mpampas’s thinking. “Why wouldn’t he deny his God in order to keep his family? Wouldn’t your God want Mpampas to keep his family?” Wasn’t Mpampas’s God supposed to be good?

  He took a deep breath, but she suddenly wasn’t in the mood for answers.

  “Why did he love his God more than me and Paulus?” She stopped walking. “Why didn’t Mpampas love us? I used to love his God. I used to love his Jesus.” A knot formed in her throat. “He used to say that Jesus loved us.”

  She stomped her foot and pointed a trembling finger at him. “His God doesn’t love us and neither did Mpampas.” There, she said it, exactly what she felt. She’d raised her voice, but she didn’t care.

  “But He does love you. And so did your father.” David’s voice was calm but insistent.

  “If Mpampas loved us so much then why isn’t he here?” She put her hands on her hips. “We could be together right now, if it weren’t for that God of his.” She tore the leather band out of her hair, flung it on the ground, and stomped on it. Mpampas had his God, but now he had no family. What a loss.

  David watched her, concern in his eyes.

  “Mpampas can have his God—your God!” She turned to run. The last thing she wanted to hear right now was that Mpampas or anybody loved her. Nobody loved her! They were all lies. If Mpampas had loved her, he would still be here. If David’s God loved her, He would bring Mpampas back from the dead. She had been waiting all these years, and Mpampas still hadn’t returned. How long must she wait? A loud sob broke between her lips as she made her way to the house.

  Ω

  The next day Alethea sat against a small pine, weeping with her head on her knees. Even the chipmunk two trees over didn’t give her any comfort.

  “Alethea!”

  It was David’s voice in the distance, but she didn’t answer. For the time being, she had given up the search, but if she didn’t find it, she didn’t know what she would do.

  Eventually, she heard branches crack beside her, but she didn’t bother looking up. She knew it was David.

  He cleared his throat and knelt next to her.

  “I can’t find it anywhere.” Her voice broke and she wiped her nose on her knees. “I’ve looked everywhere, and I can’t find it.”

  Something dangled against her arm.

  “Were you looking for this?”

  From the corner of her eye, she spotted a small leather rope hanging from his hand. Mpampas’s headband. She grabbed it and clasped it to her chest. It hadn’t been lost after all; he’d kept it for her. She cried even harder.

  He sat down next to her and fiddled with pine needles.

  She brushed the headband against her cheek, taking in its scent. Mpampas felt nearby.

  “I’m sorry for the things I said about your God. I hope He’s not angry with me.” She wiped her nose.

  “God can handle your anger.” He grinned. “No one’s anger is too much for Him.”

  “I don’t know what got into me. I just miss him, David.” She sniffed, wiped her cheeks, and gazed down at her tear-stained hands.

  “He keeps your tears in His bottle.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. For a moment, she thought she’d heard Mpampas speaking.

  “What? What did you say? . . . Who?”

  “God,” he said. “He keeps our tears in His bottle. My mother used to say that. She also used to sing about it.” His voice cracked as he spoke, going from a regular sound to a boyish pitch. His cheeks flushed bright red.

  “Really?”

  “Of course.” He picked a nearby flower and held it in the sun’s light. “Elohim says we can know Him by the things He’s made.” He stared at the lily. “Why did God make flowers?” He turned to her and placed the flower behind her ear.

  She liked the feel of his wrist as it brushed against her face.

  “Maybe He created them for little girls so they might have something pretty to put in their hair?” David watched the flower as if it might do something.

  Her cheeks warmed.

  “Do you know how many hairs are on your head?” He studied her, his look serious, as if she would know the answer to such an absurd question.

  She frowned and shook her head.

  “Why not?”

  “Too many to count.” She shrugged. “Besides, who cares?”

  “He cares.” His eyes glimmered. “He cares enough to know.”

  Cocking her head, she twirled her hair and examined each strand. She flicked the strands in front of her, then drew them along her hand.

  “He’s gentle enough to make the petals of that flower, and powerful enough to create thunder.” David motioned toward the sky.

  While he wasn’t paying attention, she flicked her hair against his cheek.

  Smiling, he brushed it away.

  They laughed and their gazes locked.

  The only time she remembered David looking at her with such depth in his eyes was when they first met. What would it be like if he kissed her?

  His words warmed her inside. Maybe his God loved her after all? As she looked into his familiar blue eyes, her thoughts shifted to Mpampas. If his God really cared about her, he would bring Mpampas back to life.

  Mpampas not only lost his family, but also died for his God.

  “Why should I worship your God?” she whispered. “If I do, it could mean my life.”

  David continued gazing at her. “It’s important because one day, Aucella, you will die. One day, everyone will die.”

  Why did he have to talk about dying? She shuddered at the thought.

  He picked up a pine needle and tossed it. “Do you want to live forever?”

  She laughed. It was as though he read her thoughts. “Of course, but that’s impossible. Everyone dies.”

  “I mean, do you want to live after you die?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you have to be saved, and the only One that can save you, is Yahshua.”

  “What does Yahshua have to sav
e me from?”

  “Sin.”

  “Oh, yes. Sin.” She put her fists on her hips. “Well, I have no sin, so there’s no need for me to be saved.”

  “Everyone sins, Alethea.”

  “Not me.” She stood to leave, brushing the pine needles from her stola. All this talk about death made her stomach hurt. She thought to ask him how she could possibly live after she’d already died, but decided she didn’t want to know. It was all too complicated.

  One thing was certain, if she was doomed to die, she wanted to delay the inevitable for as long as possible, and becoming a Christian wouldn’t help. But what if he thought she was already a Christian? After all, she believed in his God, she even prayed to Him. Being called a Christian meant death. She faced David.

  “I may believe in your God, David, but I’m not a Christian, nor will I ever become one.” Her voice was stern, but she didn’t care. All the better to make her meaning more clear.

  David sighed. “Just because you believe in Jehovah, doesn’t mean you’re a Christian.”

  “Good,” she said, relieved. A weight seemed to lift from her shoulders.

  “Even the demons believe and tremble.”

  She stopped to tie Mpampas’s headband in her hair. So, even the demons wouldn’t live forever. What did it matter? She had never met a demon anyway. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to meet any in the next life either. She gave the band a good yank.

  “Thank you for finding Mpampas’s headband for me.”

  “You’re welcome.” He half smiled.

  She turned to leave. She might have skipped through the woods, but her feet were anything but merry. Instead, her steps fell heavy on the pine needles as she made her way toward the field. Why did she feel so low? After all, she had her mpampas’s headband back safe and sound, and she didn’t have the worries of being a Christian. Yet for some reason, the future seemed grim.

  fourteen

  Alethea wiped her brow as the sun beat overhead. She sat on the couch in the large courtyard while she embroidered the blue and gold borders of her new mantle. It looked just like the silk square she’d given to Demetri, only this was far more beautiful. She’d been sitting there, by grandmother’s order, from the time the sun shone on the other side of the garden until it cast a shadow to her couch. Thoughts of Demetri plagued her mind, and she wanted to get away from her grandmother’s scrutinizing gaze.

  The best place to get away from everything was over the wall. She’d managed to escape several times without incident. Still, she hadn’t mustered up courage to get close enough to her old house to peer inside, but the few trips she’d already made were well worth the experience of freedom. She longed to go there now.

  She glanced over at Grandmother who busied herself with another sewing project. Vibia looked lovelier than ever perched on her own couch under a palm.

  “Grandmother, may I go to the hill and see if they’re coming?” Alethea pushed up from the couch.

  “If I let you out of my sight, I probably won’t see you for the rest of the day.” Grandmother pulled a long thread through her fabric.

  Alethea’s fingers and shoulders were too tense to do any more work on her embroidery, and her legs were falling asleep. “You have my word, when I see them, I’ll return immediately.”

  Grandmother frowned. “Don’t get dirty.” She shook her head and mumbled, “Not one smudge of dirt when you return.”

  “I promise.” Alethea meant it too. She didn’t want to go through any more pains of looking her best for the expected guests.

  “Very well then, you may go.”

  Alethea bounced from her couch. Tingles pricked her feet and up her legs. She tried to shake the sleep out of them as she limped toward the porch.

  “If I find one speck of dirt, you’ll be confined to the house for a week.” Irritation filled Grandmother’s voice. All the more reason for Alethea to escape.

  “I’ll be careful, Grandmother,” she called over her shoulder as she swung around one of the pillars of the portico. Her legs felt like their old selves again, and she wished she could run out to the field, but she was a good girl and walked, keeping herself neat and clean.

  When she finally rounded the top of the hill, holding her stola high so as not to get it dirty, she spotted Demetri and his caravan of slaves nearing the villa. Why did they have to arrive so soon? She turned back down the hill and shuffled toward the house. She had hoped that he wouldn’t actually show up or that his visit would be canceled. Disappointment weighed down her limbs. She couldn’t imagine living under the same roof as Demetri for an unlimited time. Now his stay was certain. Demetri and Grandmother would watch her every move. Unbearable.

  When she entered the atrium, Grandfather was ranting and raving, which was nothing unusual these last several weeks. He paced the floor and hadn’t noticed her.

  “He murdered his own brother, I’m sure of it!”

  Domitian now reigned in the late emperor’s place.

  Uncle Servius lounged nearby, sipping from his goblet, seemingly unconcerned about the change of events. He spotted Alethea and winked.

  She smiled back and leaned against the impluvium. The fountain wasn’t as full this time of year because of the decrease in rains. Uncle Servius’s nose and cheeks weren’t as pink, and she wondered if he might be sick. He always had something to drink in his hands. Sometimes he acted silly, but she was accustomed to his playfulness.

  Grandfather still hadn’t spotted her and continued. “What will become of us? Of Rome? Of our homes? A palace. Of all things! He decides to build a palace on the Palatine Hill right atop our homes!” Grandfather’s face reddened with rage. One would have thought he’d just heard the news.

  “We don’t know that he murdered his brother. They say Emperor Titus died of natural causes.” Uncle Servius took another drink then set his goblet on a nearby table.

  Grandfather paced the atrium, finally spotting her. “Aucella.” His voice softened. “Sing for me. Only your voice can soothe my soul in this time of turmoil.”

  “The guests are arriving.” She was not in the mood to sing, and as much as she dreaded Demetri’s presence, his arrival was a fine deliverance from a song and dance with Grandfather.

  “Take care of these.” Grandfather motioned the slave toward the drinks.

  The slave took Grandfather’s goblet and reached to take the other when Uncle Servius snatched it. He waved for the slave to leave.

  “How long will Demetri be staying?” Now that she was sure of his arrival, she couldn’t help but wonder how long she would have to endure his presence. She thought there’d been talk of his staying for a few months, but she couldn’t be certain. She always tried to avoid the mere thought of his coming.

  “I’m not sure.” Grandfather pressed his fingers to his temples, likely still fretting over political affairs. “It depends on how much time his family will need to build a new house. It could take several months, or longer.”

  Longer? What was she to do?

  “Where is your grandmother?”

  “She’s in the courtyard.” She followed her grandfather as they prepared to greet the guests.

  Alethea and the rest of the family gathered in the atrium. It’d been over a year since she’d last seen Demetri. She wondered if he’d changed much.

  Titus escorted Demetri into the atrium.

  She stifled a gasp. Demetri stood eye to eye with Titus. She didn’t remember him being so tall. He must have grown since they last met. Even his shoulders were as broad as Titus’s. She shuddered. Suppose he was as cruel as he was big? All the more reason not to marry him.

  Demetri kissed Grandmother’s cheek and greeted Grandfather, then he came to Alethea. He bent and kissed her cheek. His touch made her neck tingle, and he smiled.

  “You haven’t grown much since we last met. In fact, it seems you’ve shrunk.”

  So, she was short. He didn’t have to remind her of it. Since Grandmother and Grandfather were present, she bi
t her lip to keep from snapping at him.

  “Welcome.” Uncle Servius crossed the atrium with Aunt Fabia following behind.

  Everyone walked toward her aunt and uncle, so she dropped back from the crowd, seeing her mother walking from the bedchambers toward Demetri and the others.

  She then spotted the Egyptian slave woman moving away from Demetri to the other side of the atrium near the other slaves. My, she was beautiful. Little Alexander was by her side. He had grown in the past year, although he couldn’t have been more than three years old by now. His mother took his hand. “Shall we go find your friend? You remember David, don’t you?”

  Alexander shook his head.

  “I’m sure you’ll remember once you see him,” his mother said, her Latin much improved.

  “I’ll show you where he is,” Alethea said, planning her own escape. They made their way down the hall and out the door without being noticed.

  David walked into the plaza and stopped when he spotted the woman. “Bahiti.” He walked up to her, and Alexander reached out for him.

  “You do remember!” Bahiti laughed. Alexander put his arms up and David chuckled. “David,” the woman whispered. “I’ve much to tell.”

  Alethea glanced around for any listeners. Luckily, no one was there.

  David, with Alexander on his arm, turned away toward the gymnasium with Bahiti at his side. “I’m glad you came.”

  They walked away, leaving Alethea standing alone.

  Ω

  Later that day, Alethea and Vibia helped as the cook finished up the last bits of preparation for the meals. The cook had gone to call the other slaves to the dining chamber, leaving Alethea and Vibia in the kitchen.

  Alethea stood atop the latrina and sang for Vibia; it was a nice way to forget the troubles of life, and it was the only thing that gave her pleasure while stuck in the kitchen.

  Vibia buckled over with laughter. “If Grandmother sees us, we’ll be punished.” She continued to laugh.

  “And then, do you remember?” Alethea said, interrupting her song. “Those women moved their hips like this.” She continued singing, imitating the scantily dressed dancers they had seen so long ago at their betrothal party. She giggled. “They had so little on.” She dared pull her stola to her knee and kicked her leg. “And those stolas, you could practically see right through them. Why did they bother clothing themselves at all?” She breathed deep to continue her song. The notes were low; she had to hit them just right.