Yahshua's Bridge Read online

  David got creative and passed the balls under his legs. Did David want him to do the same? He’d done it before, but he wasn’t sure he’d have enough power to get the ball at the right level back to David and then catch the oncoming ones. He decided not to think about it and just do it. He lifted his leg and tossed the ball, but he didn’t come up in time for the next. The oncoming ball hit him in his chest and landed on the ground.

  “Don’t stop,” David called out.

  Alexander held his focus and kept juggling. He’d learned to keep going even if one ball fell. He wished his mistake didn’t have to happen during a show. Would David be disappointed in him?

  “We’ll have to practice that one,” David said.

  The onlookers chuckled.

  “You’re doing great.” David kept tossing the balls under his legs.

  Alexander relaxed a bit.

  Following David’s lead, they backed away from each other and changed the motion of the balls. Instead of tossing them upward, they threw them straight at each other, snatching them out of the air. The crowd cheered. Alexander’s lips tugged into an uncontrollable grin.

  “Hold.” David tossed the last ball in Alexander’s direction.

  Alexander kept juggling as David picked up another. He rolled it down one arm and over his shoulders. He did that back and forth and finally let it drop to his feet. He kicked it up and bounced it from one foot to the other until the crowd clapped.

  Alexander knew what was coming, so he made himself ready. Would he be able to catch it? The timing had to be just right. He made a space available. David kicked the extra ball in his direction. He caught it and continued to juggle all five balls. The people clapped and whistled. Relieved that he hadn’t messed up this time, Alexander wanted to laugh.

  By the end of the night, they had juggled rings, and David even allowed him to juggle torches, but no more than three. Breathless from all the excitement, Alexander waited by the door with the basket of equipment as David collected his earnings. The party continued, but David always left as soon as he was finished with his act because the guests tended to get out of control.

  David’s large frame emerged from the shadows, coins jiggling in a pouch at his side. He took the basket from Alexander and set it down. He then lifted the purse, opened it up, and poured half of it into Alexander’s hands. The weighty, bronze coins filled his palms.

  “For a job well done,” David said.

  Mouth gaping, Alexander looked up into David’s face. “For me?”

  David nodded. He snatched another pouch out of the basket and opened it for Alexander to pour in his money.

  “Maybe if you earn enough, Master Demetri will allow you to buy your freedom.” David tightened the drawstring.

  Alexander had heard of slaves earning their freedom, but he never imagined that as a possibility for himself. He stood frozen as David tied the purse on him, then picked up the basket and straightened.

  “Thank you.” Alexander’s voice came out in a raspy whisper. He clutched the bag of coins hanging from his belt.

  They went out the door into the cool night, avoiding the wheeled carts as David escorted Alexander home. Even the dangerous streets couldn’t wipe away the joy Alexander felt from such a fulfilling evening. An evening of accomplishment. An evening of hope.

  Dagger in hand, Alexander crept through the dark courtyard beneath looming palms. Their shadowed leaves reminded him of a beast’s giant claws. They threatened to reach down and rip open his secret. Just a few days ago, Master Demetri had taken him to Vespasian’s amphitheater, and Alexander had seen the wild animals with their massive teeth that fed on criminals. The thought made him shudder.

  He stole between thick bushes and plants, making his way off the narrow path. Moonlight reflected off his dagger’s blade as he pushed aside leaves and ducked under a branch. The white saucer glowed in the night sky like an eye watching him. He glanced over his shoulder. Nothing but groomed plants and neatly trimmed bushes. He held his breath and remained still. No more than an echo of wheeled carts rumbled through the streets.

  This was his only chance to stash his latest earnings. He knelt behind the statue of a bird, not far from this end of the path. The creature’s white marble wings cast an eerie shadow over him as he crawled underneath a bush behind it. The bird represented freedom in Alexander’s mind. He planned to earn enough coins to buy not only his own freedom, but his mother’s as well. He stabbed the dagger into the ground and dug out the dirt until he struck the amphora vessel below. Its cool, damp texture slipped through his fingers as he lifted it from its hiding place. The vase dropped, landing with a thud and a jingle from the coins he’d already saved. He had about six months worth of earnings in this earthen vessel and considered he might have to find another container. He grabbed it again. With trembling fingers, he tugged off the leather flap secured over the mouth and dumped his money inside. He reburied the vessel and patted the dirt back down then replaced the bush so the leaves covered the spot.

  Muffled voices echoed through the courtyard.

  Alexander ducked and lay flat on his stomach, clawing his fingers into the dirt as if the trees might try to grab him. Too late, he realized he should have hidden behind a bush. Nothing covered him other than the foliage on either side.

  Ghostly white figures strolled along the path through the garden, disappearing and reappearing between the trimmed shrubbery. The voices neared. A man and a woman.

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  Alexander recognized the woman’s voice. Master Demetri’s mother, Mistress Calista. She and her husband, Maximus Demetrius Arnensis, visited from Alexandria. From what Alexander had learned, they moved back there after Demetri lost Alethea and the betrothal gift of land on which to raise his horses. His parents now bred the animals in Alexandria. It was bad enough having one master in Demetri, but with his parents here, Alexander now had three to obey and take orders from.

  “I don’t like to be alone,” Lord Maximus’s voice grew louder as they neared his hiding place.

  Calista chuckled.

  Alexander put his face to the ground, resting his cheek against the cool earth, careful not to move—or breathe.

  The couple moved closer and stopped on the path right in front of Alexander. Why’d they have to come so close? He watched every sway of the hem of Calista’s stola, exposing the tips of her toes. She turned in Alexander’s direction. He held his breath.

  “I’m just worried,” she whispered. “He’s not doing well.” She sighed and sank onto a stone bench framed by perfectly trimmed bushes. “I want him to come back with us.”

  “He likes living here.” Lord Maximus stopped and faced her, his bare feet in Alexander’s line of vision.

  “What’s to like?” Calista crossed her ankles. A rose dangled from her fingertips next to her calf. “He has no family here.”

  Alexander focused on Maximus’s bare legs and the hem of his short tunic. He never realized his powerful lord could appear so human. What if his master’s father turned and spotted him there? The man shifted his stance.

  Alexander wished he could shift to take the weight off his numb arm.

  “He owns too many gladiators,” Lord Maximus said. “He won’t go.”

  “He can bring them. We have an amphitheater in Alexandria. He’ll have everything he needs.”

  “It’s not that easy.” Maximus knelt before his wife, resting his hands on her knees.

  With his master’s gaze so close to the ground, Alexander cringed. What if Lord Maximus heard him breathe? What if he heard his heart galloping in his chest?

  “But what about the horses? He can help you.” She sniffled. “Who’s going to take over when you’re gone?”

  Alexander longed to move a fraction of an inch to ease the tingling in his arm, but he didn’t dare.

  “He’s made his choices, Calista.”

  “If only he had an heir.” She sighed. “He could send the boy to us, and you’d have the help
you need.”

  “I’m fine, love.” Maximus stood, reaching his hand down to his wife. “It’s late. You need your rest.”

  Calista stood. The rose she held slipped from her fingers and landed inches from Alexander. She bent down to retrieve the flower. Her gaze fell on him. She jumped back and gasped.

  “What is it?” Maximus put his hands on his wife’s shoulders.

  “Alexander.” She shook her head, looking down at him again.

  “What about him?”

  She turned to look around, as if she were lost—or looking for other hidden slaves. Averting her eyes, she clung to Maximus’s arm and steered him away from the greenery where Alexander hid. She cast him a quick glance over her shoulder. “Um … I was just thinking.”

  Maximus chuckled as they made their way down the path. “When are you not thinking, love?” He put his arm around her. “Let’s get some rest. Shall we?”

  They disappeared between the foliage.

  Alexander released a long, slow breath.

  Ω

  Alexander had managed to avoid Mistress Calista for the past two days, but now he was forced to be in her presence. She lounged at a good distance, but he could still feel her gaze boring into his back all the way from her couch outside the arena, while he stood near the stalls.

  It was his job to escort each horse to the prospective buyers, so maybe he could sidestep her today as well. Somehow he doubted that, since they were already on their last horse. Why didn’t she tell anyone she’d found him sneaking around the courtyard the other night?

  “Approach the stallion from the front.” Lord Maximus stood behind him, repeating the rule that Alexander already knew and had applied to all the other horses. But he repeated it now because this was a special breed.

  Three other men stood with their hands behind their backs and watched Alexander’s every move, showing pride in the Arabian horse they brought. Alexander couldn’t decide what made him more nervous, Mistress Calista or these desert-clothed Bedouins. They acted like bodyguards over this particular stallion, their swords hanging at their sides, at the ready. Their long-flowing robes, short beards and head scarves made him feel underdressed. And their severe gazes penetrated as sharp as the knives David refused to let him juggle.

  “Good boy,” Alexander whispered to the Arabian stallion whose high head cast a shadow over his chestnut flanks. After selling all the Egyptian stallions and mares, the Arabian was the last to go, and none of the other horses were as magnificent and noble. Alexander backed him into the stall, the smell of hay and manure wafting on the air.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Alexander whispered, wondering if the great animal could sense his own terror. But he couldn’t show his fear. If he did, he’d fail his master, and he was more afraid of him than the animal. If the horse trampled him, it’d be over within minutes. If the master trampled him with abuse, it could be endless. He supposed the animal could also kill him. But he’d rather die that way than by the master’s hands. Something about being killed inadvertently by an animal desperate for freedom was more honorable than dying for disappointing his master. He didn’t blame the horse. After all, he was just as afraid as Alexander. He simply hadn’t learned how to hide it.

  Alexander held up the rope, thrilled that Lord Maximus had given him this duty, despite his trepidation of this particular stallion. Too bad Master Demetri didn’t breed horses. He hoped he had been pleasing to Lord Maximus so he might be asked to serve again in this manner. So far, everything had gone well. But the day wasn’t over. There was still a chance he could disappoint everyone.

  The stallion snorted and tossed his head.

  “Be easy.” Alexander threw the rope, draping it over the horse’s crest. The stallion quit backing away. Alexander couldn’t help but be impressed with the magnificence of the Arabian mount. From its withers, it stood about the same height as the Egyptian stallions, but with the Arabian’s long, sloping shoulders, arched neck, and distinctive upward-turned crop and tail, Alexander could think of only one word. Beautiful.

  “You’re doing just fine,” he continued to whisper in soothing tones to the magnificent animal, hoping the horse wouldn’t fight him. He slipped his arm under the horse’s neck and glided the unique halter over the stallion’s head, passing the fine chain around his nose. Once secure, Alexander stroked the stallion on his forelock. “Good boy.” He had done it.

  Alexander glanced over his shoulder in time to catch his master’s quick nod of approval. The faces of the three Bedouin men remained stern. Alexander swallowed hard.

  He followed Lord Maximus and led the stallion out of the stall near the buyer who stood several feet away. Alexander turned with his back to Mistress Calista.

  The stallion neighed, and Alexander put his hand on the horse’s flank and then his forelock. “All is well.” Please don’t rear up. He might take Alexander with him.

  “So this is the fast one.” The buyer spoke with awe in his voice.

  Alexander looked to his master.

  “Will he be able to pull my chariot?”

  “Most definitely, Senator Lemonius.” Lord Maximus stepped closer to the man. “You’ll find he’s a stallion that’s more than capable for any size chariot race.”

  So the man was a senator. Alexander should have known by the pressed, crimson-lined toga draped over his tunic. He wore fine rings, and the slight breeze caught a hint of cologne that left a sour aftertaste in the back of Alexander’s throat.

  Senator Lemonius motioned with his chin to a man next to him, a man in a simple tunic and less elegantly dressed. The man stepped forward and took the horse by his halter. The stallion tossed his head, snorting.

  “It’s all right, boy.” Alexander stroked the stallion’s neck, fearful that the man might spook him, causing Alexander to be dragged through the arena. “Let him look at you.”

  The man pulled the horse’s lips apart and examined his teeth. Satisfied, he ran his hands down each of the horse’s legs, then checked his hooves. Still kneeling, the man nodded his approval to the senator.

  “I’ll take him.”

  Lord Maximus stepped forward to talk price and exchange money. That was Alexander’s cue to lead the horse back to the Bedouin men near the stalls. He pulled on the halter, thankful when the stallion followed without complaint. A kinship bonded him to the animal. After all, they were both slaves.

  Reluctantly, he handed the reins to one of the men. Their fingers brushed as the Bedouin man took the leather ropes. Though his face remained stern, a softness of understanding reflected in the man’s gaze.

  Alexander patted the horse and stroked his shiny coat. “You’re going to be fine. Just do what he says.” Alexander ran his fingers through the stallion’s mane. How he longed to keep this friend.

  “You have Bedouin blood.” The man who held the reins approached Alexander, speaking Greek, his mother’s native tongue.

  Alexander’s eyes widened when the man addressed him—a mere slave. He squared his shoulders. “I’m half Egyptian, my lord,” he said in Greek, with as much respect as he could muster.

  “Yes.” The man stroked the horse. “Egyptian with Bedouin blood.”

  Alexander didn’t understand why it mattered. “Perhaps.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Your mother is Bahiti, no?”

  Alexander nodded.

  The man actually smiled. “Her father, your grandfather, is Bedouin.” He motioned to the men around him. “We breed the Arabian horses and have sold many of them to Maximus Demetrius Arnensis. He mates them with his Egyptian mares.”

  Alexander wasn’t sure what to think. He never imagined the possibility of having a grandfather, not one he’d ever meet, since Lord Maximus was his grandfather, but not according to the law. A desire sparked within him to meet this man, to find his mother’s people.

  “I see the Bedouin blood in you.” The man nodded toward the stallion. “You’re a natural with horses.”

  “Alex
ander!” A breathless servant stopped at Alexander’s side. “Mistress Calista wishes to speak with you.”

  Alexander cringed. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to see, unsurprisingly, Mistress Calista watching him. He faced the Bedouin man and bowed slightly. “Thank you, my lord.”

  To his surprise, the man bowed his head as well, silently granting him permission to go. Why did he bow? To a slave?

  How Alexander longed to continue that conversation, but he mustn’t keep the mistress waiting. He looked back over his shoulder, taking one last look at the man.

  The man’s eyes danced, and he nodded.

  Alexander wouldn’t get another chance to talk to him, since the men were boarding the next ship to Alexandria.

  Taking a deep breath, he made his way to his mistress. He’d been dreading this moment. He had yet to come up with a good excuse for being out in the courtyard so late. In the end, he knew he couldn’t tell a lie, so it left him with no choice but to tell the truth—the last thing he wished to do.

  As he neared, a smile reaching Mistress Calista’s eyes met him and somehow put him at ease. A good ploy to entice the truth out of him. Or was it? Yet, if he believed it to be real, the ploy would work, wouldn’t it? No matter what he believed, his secret was doomed. To make matters worse, Alexander’s mother stood nearby, waiting on her mistress’s orders. He’d told his mother about his earnings, but he hadn’t told her where he’d hidden their treasure. She only knew he snuck out at night to hide the coins. If Mistress Calista started questioning his mother as well as him, together he doubted they’d be able to keep the treasure hidden. A slave holding a fan to block the sun stood nearby. He’d also be privy to their secret. Alexander gritted his teeth. How he longed to run in the opposite direction.

  “It’s going well over there, I see.” Mistress Calista smiled up at Alexander, still appearing genuine, despite her regal disposition.

  “Yes, mistress.” Alexander nodded. “We just sold the last stallion.” He braced himself for the next question.

  “Are you finished then?” A slight wind caused the hem of her stola to flutter, emphasizing her regal air.