Valley of Decision (37 page)

Maggie couldn't pretend that she didn't want to believe her grandmother's words. Lugging around the shame of the many tragedies
her actions had caused was exhausting. To be free of the guilt would be more than she deserved.

But she didn't want to be free of her mother.

Not really.

Maggie wanted them to be friends the way Mom and Jaddah were now. While they didn't have medicine in common, it had been eye opening helping her mom tend Quinta and her grandson. The experience had given Maggie a peek into the heart of a woman she'd always wanted to be like. Jaddah was right. Her mother was a woman with a huge capacity for love.

In preparation for their trip to the docks, Barek checked the food and water supplies for those staying behind. He showed Tabari and Iltani his mother's secret stash of extra oil and wicks for the lamps. He snuck out the back and restocked a bin with bits of wood for the brazier. Maggie followed Jaddah's instructions and changed the bandage on Kardide's head. G-Pa and Kardide promised to barricade the door immediately after they left.

Maggie withdrew her phone and asked her grandfather to take a picture of her standing between Barek and Eggie. Then she snapped a picture of her grandmother and grandfather together. “So Mom won't worry,” she said, although deep down she knew the picture was for her. In case something happened and she couldn't get back to them.

The moment the sun set, Maggie slid the phone in with the manumission papers she kept in her pocket. Her heart beating fast, she kissed her grandparents and then joined Barek and Eggie to set off for the docks. Barek's prediction of added patrols proved correct. Fortunately, his knowledge of the back alleys of Carthage kept them from detection. When they reached the harbor, lit torches flickered above the huge crowds crying out for food and pressing toward a large grain freighter.

Maggie grabbed Eggie's arm. “Maybe you shouldn't go.”

“My ride's waiting.” Eggie pointed out an imperial freighter anchored fifty yards away from the nearest pier. “See that ship sitting low in the water? It's full of grain. If those sailors know what's good for them, they'll lift anchor and hightail it to Rome before this mob swamps them too.” Eggie kissed her hand and winked at Barek. “I'll be back before either of you have time to miss me.”

The wind whipping off the water sliced through Maggie's cheap tunic and reminded her how little time she had left. She didn't need a calendar to know fall was swooping in with a vengeance and it had brought the wrath of Rome to Carthage. She moved to the protection of one of the large concrete pillars, waiting in the shadows while Barek and Eggie pushed off in the homemade skiff hidden in a secret slip by Titus's stable hands.

“Godspeed, Eggie,” she whispered.

Eggie was smooth and daring. Barek was cautious and bristly as a dried-out toothbrush. And yet they'd become an odd little family, the three of them, hiding in the deserted dye shop, foraging for food and supplies under cover of darkness. Everyone doing what he or she could to protect the fugitives and nurse Jaddah back to health. Maggie couldn't bear the thought of facing the days ahead without either man.

A commotion around the docked grain freighter drew Maggie from her worries. People pushed and shoved, fighting with the last of their strength to gain a place in line. She spotted a scarecrow of a man exiting the ship with a little sack of grain held close to his chest. He elbowed his way past those accosting him on the gangplank. But the moment the poor man set foot on the dock, a gang of starving vultures descended and tore his sack from his clutches. The bag ripped open and grain spewed into the air. Fifty people dived for the grains raining down upon the warped planks. Stones from a slingshot flew through the air and hit the man in the head.
He staggered backward, his body teetering hopelessly on the edge of the pier.

Maggie bolted toward the man who'd been robbed. She heard her named called above the din of people scrapping like dogs over a bone. Had she not been so stinking mad she would have been more alert. She would have known it was not Barek who called her and she would have pretended not to hear. But she couldn't help herself. She stopped and turned, searching for the one who knew her. A cloak swept over her head and strong arms locked her arms to her sides.

“Come with me. Now.”

M
AXIMUS PEERED THROUGH A
window high in his palace. Below, hysterical men with sticks in one hand and blazing torches in the other had left the smoldering theater ruins and blanketed the royal grounds. They shouted threats and obscenities. Maximus closed the shutter and dismissed his concern. He'd doubled his guard. If the residents of Carthage attempted to storm his doors, they would face the same fate as Cyprianus Thascius.

Maximus trudged down the stairs. All he had to do was hang on until the emperor granted his leave. He'd sent a sealed request to Valerian the morning after the fire. In it, he'd explained the chaos the Christians had caused and his plan for vengeance. He would do what he should have done when he first arrived and eliminate their leaders. He'd ordered his soldiers to tear this city apart until they found that murderous woman healer. After he nailed her to a cross, he'd execute the man who'd dared defend her.

Once Cyprianus Thascius was dead, there would be no one left to defend these heretics and troublemakers. Without someone to come to their legal rescue, the Christians would be forced to return to the passive, peace-loving citizens Titus Cicero claimed them to be.

Maximus tightened the sash of his robe. The thought of making someone pay for the hurt he had suffered gave him great pleasure.
Once he had order restored, he was certain the emperor would be more than happy to grant his transfer back to Rome. There was still the problem of what to do about Hortensia. She would not be happy his term had been cut short.

In the atrium, the birds fluttered in their cages, protesting the unease they sensed in the province.

Maximus reached inside the golden cage and removed one of the multicolored birds. These foul creatures had pecked and cackled at him for the last time. He was a new man. His own man. The emperor would reward his performance in Africa.

In one swift, decisive move Maximus snapped the bird's blue-ringed neck, then tossed the limp creature at his feet. He hated Aspasius's pets almost as much as he hated his mother-in-law. With the emperor's gratitude behind him, Hortensia could not stop him from returning to Rome, secreting his wife in the middle of the night, and sailing to the edge of the earth.

Until then, Maximus would remain barricaded in his palace and entertain himself.

“My lord?” The voice belonged to one of guards he'd added to fortify his security detail.

“Not now.” He stuck his hand back into the cage. Riled birds mocked him as they flew to the safety of the highest perches. “See what you've done?” He turned to see the red-faced soldier holding out a small scroll. “What is it? Speak, man.”

The soldier stared at the dead bird at Maximus's feet. “An urgent message from Rome.”

“Finally.” Maximus slammed the cage door and yanked the scroll from the soldier's hand. “Wait for my reply.” He ripped the waxy seal and began to read.

With his troops weakened by plague, Emperor Valerian suffered a major defeat. He was taken prisoner by the
Persians and executed. Delay your departure until further notice.

Gallienus Augustus, the newly proclaimed emperor of Rome

“NO!” MAXIMUS
cursed and jammed his fist into the bars of the nearest cage. The birds fluttered in a frenzy. He was stuck here forever. Trapped like the frightened parrot he was. He no longer had the luxury of waiting until the healer was found to exact his revenge. If he was to acquire any satisfaction, he would have to act and act quickly. Squeezing the paper in his hands, he pondered his next move.

“You will tell no one of this, understand?” Maximus eyed the guard as he wadded the paper, opened the birdcage, and tossed it inside. “Bring the solicitor Cyprianus Thascius to me at once.” He held up his hand. “No. Send two officers to remove him from his home. Insist they use discretion. Keep him in one of their houses for the night. Then once I have assembled the Senate, bring him to me quietly. I do not want the masses to disturb a moment of my pleasure.”

T
HE NEXT TIME LISBETH
emerged from a drug-induced sleep, the room smelled like an order of sizzling fajitas. She turned her head slowly to locate the source. Someone new had joined Metras in his mission to nurse her back to health.

Tonight it was Candia and Arria, the abandoned senator's wife. Arria had been no more than a frightened skeleton clutching a dead baby when Cyprian allowed her to trail in with the repentant church members. Now she crouched confidently by a small brazier. Her filthy silk stola had been replaced by a clean, simple woolen tunic. Her matted hair had been washed and combed. Her cheekbones no longer protruded like jagged cliffs. Still, the sprinkle of brown scabs across her porcelain face made it impossible to forget she'd only recently survived the plague. This woman frying onions was just barely well. She really should have been convalescing and recovering from her own losses. Instead, here she was, preparing another poultice for Lisbeth's foot.

Lisbeth's stomach rumbled. Not with hunger, but with the shame of having so quickly judged another.

“Are you thirsty?” Arria asked when she noticed Lisbeth was awake.

Lisbeth's tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, and her
throat felt as if big scoops of ash had clogged her vocal cords, so she just nodded.

Arria brought her a cupful of something steaming with the stink of a dusty homecoming mum. “It's feverfew,” she said in response to Lisbeth's wrinkled nose. She slid her hand beneath Lisbeth's shoulders and elevated her head slowly. “Metras says it will help purge the inflammation in your foot and ease the pain in your head.”

“What does it matter?”

“You are more fortunate than most. There are many in this home who love you.”

“Love? When the world can be lost in a blink of an eye, does anyone have the luxury of love?”

“That's all we have.” Arria quickly lowered her eyes, but not before Lisbeth saw the woman was struggling with her own pain.

“I'm sorry.” Lisbeth had spent her whole career repairing flesh. It was foolish to think her wounded soul could be so easily stitched together with kindness and a few leafy weeds crumbled into water. “My daughter and I parted on such caustic terms. What if . . .”

“You never see her again?”

Lisbeth nodded.

“The same kind people who helped me carry on will help you.”

Tears took Lisbeth to a place words could not. Arria waited patiently. When Lisbeth had cried herself dry, the woman offered her a cloth for her nose and more of the steaming tea.

“This won't bring your daughter home, but it will help ease the pain.” She lifted the cup to Lisbeth's lips and Lisbeth did her best to choke down a few sips of the third-century version of ibuprofen.

The senator's wife eased Lisbeth's head back to the pillow. “Do you think your stomach could handle some broth?”

Lisbeth nodded. “Why are you helping me?”

“I owe it to you.”

“That's impossible. Until a few days ago, we'd never even met.”

“When my little girl became ill, my husband was afraid she would infect the rest of our household. I begged for mercy but he turned us out. None of my wealthy friends would take us in. We had nowhere to go and when the end came for my baby, I couldn't leave my dead child on the streets for the wild dogs.” Arria's watery eyes slid gratefully to Lisbeth. “I was lost. Without hope. Then the very man whom my husband had voted to exile took me in.”

A cold shudder scampered up Lisbeth's spine. She couldn't speak. She could only stare at the contrite woman standing before her.

“My husband was there when Caecilianus was condemned to death. Everyone in this church loved the old bishop and his wife. And yet they bathed me and fed me when I could not care for myself.” She swiped her wet cheek. “Were it not for the mercy extended by my enemies, I would be dead.” Arria looked directly into Lisbeth's eyes. “I'm so sorry for my part in what was done to you and your family.” She could barely continue. “What my husband and others in high places are saying about Christians is not true. They are kind and forgiving. Metras built a little box for my daughter and then he buried my Sophie beneath the palms in the corner of the garden.” She dipped a cloth in the basin and began to gently wash Lisbeth's face. “I will never forget what it feels like to be forgiven.”

Forgiven?
The word fell softly upon Lisbeth, wrapping her in a cloak of warmth. Cold embers stirred. Recollections of kindnesses she did not deserve but had received on her first voyage into the third century. She'd dropped into this world alone, afraid, and so angry she'd been almost impossible to deal with. And yet Ruth and Caecilianus, enemies she thought at first, had been exceptionally patient and kind. Taking
her
in. Making her feel welcome. Even
when the end came for Ruth, the amazing woman was thinking more about Lisbeth than she was herself. She had forgiven every hurtful word Lisbeth had hurled at her, calling her “friend” with her last breath.

As Lisbeth watched the senator's wife hold the clean muslin pouch while Candia carefully ladled in hot onions, she knew she was once again the recipient of undeserved kindnesses. After all, she was the one who'd condemned Cyprian's decision to forgive those who'd betrayed him, and yet those very same people were now risking their lives to save hers. How could she dare condemn this woman for her ill-informed decisions when her own had caused so much pain?