The Last Sacrifice (32 page)

Pavo whirled on Vitas. “You have answers?”

“Just this. If the man knew this was your destination, don’t you think he would have been far more cautious?”

Pavo looked back at the fearful man.

“To me,” Vitas continued, “he seemed as surprised to see you as you were to see him.”

The tall, thin man nodded frantically.

“Why are you here?” Vitas asked him calmly.

“I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Take three fingers on his right hand,” Pavo snarled. “Match one hand to the other.”

“Bully, maim, kill,” Vitas said. “Not much of an original thinker, are you?”

Pavo pushed his face within inches of Vitas’s.

Vitas was very aware that his hands were tied behind his back. “Why don’t you ask him who swore him to secrecy?” Vitas said. “Ask him when? Give the man a chance to speak.”

Without taking his eyes off Vitas, Pavo said, “Who swore you to secrecy? When?”

No answer.

“Now you understand,” Pavo told Vitas, “why I prefer to bully and maim and kill when necessary.”

Without taking his eyes from Pavo, Vitas spoke to the frightened crewman. “I admire a man who holds to a vow. What can you tell us without breaking that vow?”

“Just before we set sail from Rome, a man approached me while I was standing near the ship. He said if I went to a certain household in Alexandria one day after the ship arrived, I would be paid handsomely to deliver a letter.”

“You were to wait a day?”

“I didn’t see the harm in coming immediately,” the man said. “I wanted money to enjoy women tonight.” He spat out bitter words. “Not only was there no money, but now this.”

“I suspect,” Vitas said mildly, “this is exactly why you were told to wait a day. Were you given a password?”

The crew member’s eyes widened in realization. “‘These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.’”

“See?” Vitas said. “You were meant to find me. I assume you also stopped at Issachar’s mansion, only to be told he didn’t live there anymore.”

The man nodded.

“Do you still have the letter?” Vitas asked. “Or did you leave it up there?”

“I wasn’t given any money.”

“So you still have the letter.”

“I was told you would pay me ten thousand sesterces.”

“You’re a poor liar,” Vitas said.

“Two thousand then,” the man mumbled.

“I’ll see you’re paid. You have the letter?”

“Not so fast,” Pavo said. “I want to read it.”

“You’ve gone to great effort to obey those who put me on your ship,” Vitas said. “Do you really want to cross them now?”

“So who’s a bully using the threat of violence?”

“I can’t disagree,” Vitas said, smiling.

“Give me the letter,” Pavo said. To Vitas, he returned the smile, but without sincerity. “If it tells me something about the men behind this, it’s worth far more than two thousand sesterces.”

With knives jabbed at his throat, the crew member reached into his tunic and pulled out a sealed scroll.

Pavo examined the seal, shrugged, and broke through the wax. He unrolled the letter and, after reading it, frowned.

“You are welcome to this nonsense,” Pavo said. He dropped the letter on the dirt in front of Vitas. “The sooner I’m rid of you, the better.”

To his three men, Pavo said, “Let him go.”

Vitas could not reach to get the letter. He hoped Pavo would untie him soon.

To the crew member, Pavo said, “I don’t want a man like you on my ship. Run, and consider your freedom from me as the wages you are owed.”

“Shouldn’t you ask him who he was supposed to find in the apartment?” Vitas asked.

“Obviously the same person I’m supposed to deliver you to,” Pavo snapped.

“Did you give him the same password you gave me?” Vitas asked the crew member.

“I couldn’t. He’s been sold into slavery.”

“No,” Pavo groaned. “He’s not up there?”

“Only his wife and three young children.”

“I hate all of this,” Pavo said. “I really, really hate it.”

Hora Decima

“I don’t understand this. You’re going to leave a strange man in my household?”

This question came from Jael. She was a Jewish woman, short and round with long dark hair. She held a sleeping baby to her chest, and her tone of incredulity showed that she was remarkably unafraid, considering that five large men had walked into her tiny apartment without an invitation.

“I want to be rid of him,” Pavo said. “I’ve been instructed by people in Rome to deliver him to your husband.”

She asked the obvious question. “Why?”

Pavo shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Rome.” To her, Rome must have been on the other side of the world. “You have the wrong family. We don’t know anybody in Rome. And we certainly don’t know
him
.”

Aside from the baby she cradled, small twin girls clung to her legs, peeking from behind the woman with obvious fear. Vitas was no expert on children. It seemed to him that they were barely old enough to talk—but they had been mute since he entered.

“Is your husband a silversmith?”

Jael nodded.

“Then this is the right family. That’s all I care. If anyone ever comes to you and asks if I delivered a Roman to you in good health, you can answer that I did.”

“You can’t just leave a man with me and my children. It’s beyond comprehension.”

“Good-bye,” Pavo said. “I’m rid of him.”

Pavo nodded at his three crewmen, and the four of them swept out as quickly as they’d barged into the woman’s apartment.

Jael looked at Vitas with bewilderment.

“I’ve been delivered,” Vitas said. “Now, if you would be kind enough to untie my hands, I’ll leave immediately.”

“Just like that.” Her voice was now tinged with anger.

“The sooner I am away from you, the sooner you can forget this.”

“No,” Jael said. “Not until you give me answers. If my family is involved in something, I need to know what to guard against.”

“I have no idea why your household was chosen either,” Vitas said.

“Your wrists are bound. You are delivered like a captive. Who were those four men? Where are you from?”

The little girls behind her legs had begun to edge out to get a better look at the strange man.

Vitas squatted. He rolled his eyeballs a few times and stuck out his tongue. They retreated and then giggled from the safe vantage point behind their mother.

“I was taken captive in Rome,” Vitas told Jael as he rose. “I was put on a ship to Alexandria and, as you can see, taken here.”

“Who put you on the ship?”

“Friends, I believe.”

“You believe . . .”

“I would have been killed by the emperor had I stayed in Rome. Enemies would have no reason to see that I was spared.”

The baby boy in her arms woke and began to cry softly. She rocked him and hummed until he fell asleep again.

“I would say none of this is believable. Yet you are here.”

“My hands,” Vitas said. “If you could. . .”

“You are a stranger. I must protect my girls.”

Vitas understood. They were in an apartment that was little more than a slum. Crowded as the top floor was with tiny compartments filled with large families, there was an isolation and intimacy here that would frighten any woman with any sense.

“If I go on the street like this,” Vitas said gently, “I am prey for any thief.”

“I have no reason to trust you or your intentions once you are released.”

“Call for a neighbor,” Vitas suggested.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. Tears seeped down her cheeks. “I’m forced to accept charity from the people who live around me. How could I explain to them a man alone with me? If they shun me, I will be forced to live on the streets.”

“I understand.” Vitas meant it. “I’ll wait for your husband to return.”

Yet to Vitas, that didn’t seem like a good alternative, either. What if the husband didn’t believe Vitas or his wife? This certainly was a strange situation. Vitas had visions of an angry Jew plunging a knife into his chest while his own hands were helpless behind his back.

The woman began to weep openly. “My husband will not be returning. That’s why I am forced to live on the charity of my neighbors.”

Her twin daughters began to sob.

“Mama? Mama?” one of the little girls asked. “Will this man take you away too?”

Their terror inspired Jael to force herself to stop weeping. She smiled and knelt to face her daughters, still cradling her son.

“No, no,” Jael said. “Mama was sad because she misses your papa too. I will never leave you.” Fierceness filled her eyes as she stood and faced Vitas again, her cheeks damp. “What choice do I have but to get you away from us?”

Vitas tried to smile kindly, hoping it would impress the woman.

“Turn around,” she said. “I warn you that if you try anything to harm my children, I will fight you to the death.”

Vitas did as directed. He felt her fumble awkwardly with the knots of twine that bound his wrists. It was difficult for her to work one-handed, as she had to hold her son with her other arm.

Five minutes later, Vitas was free. His first impulse was to leave as quickly as possible. He truly was free. Pavo had completed the task set upon him by the men in Rome. Vitas wanted to find a ship to get out of Alexandria.

At the doorway, however, he stopped. He stood just outside the cramped apartment, so that any neighbors watching would not be able to accuse him of impropriety.

“Your husband,” he asked Jael. “Why was he taken away?”

“More wine!” Lucullus roared. “If the dwarf is not in our hands, at least we can enjoy the fruits of his labor!”

A slave scurried from the dinner scene to fetch more wine, leaving behind a dozen guests reclined on couches, all of them drunk except for Lucullus, who had his reasons for pretending to be in the same condition.

“Most excellent pun,” an elderly man slurred. He was a former mayor of Smyrna, who had chosen exile on Patmos instead of facing a trial for strangling a young freewoman in the throes of passion. Broken veins on his nose served as evidence that too much alcohol was a frequent state for him. “Wine as the fruits of his labor. Hah!” The elderly man burped. “But I must implore you, Lucullus. If you find Strabo, don’t—”

“
If
I find him?” Lucullus said. “On an island this small, it’s a matter of
when
. Besides, he needs me. Who else will buy his wine and cheese in the quantities I do?”

“
When
you find him, don’t kill him. No one on the island makes better wine.” A burp. “But then, no one else on an island this desolate makes wine.”

Lucullus smiled indulgently, masking some anger at Strabo. The little man had taken a bribe to turn over the woman and old man as soon as they appeared. “Of course I won’t kill him. I like his wine too. A few candle flames applied to the bottom of his feet, I believe, will be sufficient punishment and persuasion to discover where he’s hidden his guests.”

Lucullus, a big, hairy man missing his two front teeth from a barroom fight long before his enlisted days, gave a nod to the three prostitutes sitting at the feet of the lone Jew in their midst.

“As I’ve told that handsome young man with you,” Lucullus said to the prostitutes, “Strabo lacks for courage. And pride. What other man would return week after week to serve the same soldiers who raped his wife?”

“Really!” one of the girls gasped. “Tell us more.”

The young Jew in their midst was as drunk as any of the other guests. “You don’t want to hear more,” he said, patting the girl’s thigh. “Lucullus has described it to me in graphic detail and you won’t find it pleasant. Like you, the girl was from Ephesus and occasionally came to Patmos to give well-paid comfort to lonely soldiers.”

“Are you calling us whores?” One of the other ones giggled. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips, then pulled away. “Maybe more of that will silence you.”

The other guests—three other prostitutes among wealthy exiles bored for entertainment—roared laughter and applauded. All hid well any resentment that Lucullus had ordered three of the six prostitutes who arrived on the supply ship to favor the young Jew.

“Silence?” Lucullus said. He’d been waiting for a reason to turn the conversation to the Jew. “We don’t want this young man silent.”

The slave returned with a large amphora of wine and began to refill all the goblets.

“Come now, Chayim,” Lucullus said as the slave moved from guest to guest. “Tell these beautiful women about your position in Nero’s inner court. They need to know how important you are.”

“Nero!” The first girl gasped, pushing herself harder against Chayim. “You’ve met Nero!”

Chayim slurped wine and grinned. “I live in his palace. Share his dinner parties.”

“Tell them how you got there,” Lucullus said. “I love the story.”

Chayim shrugged. “My father is one of the highest placed priests in Jerusalem, where I was raised. Apparently he was ashamed of how much I enjoyed a Roman’s life. Bernice, the queen of the Jews, made an arrangement to send me to Nero as a hostage of sorts.”

“Hostage?” echoed the second girl.

“As a way to ensure my father did as Bernice requested.”

“I don’t understand,” the second girl said.

“Nobody understands Jewish politics,” Chayim said. “But the best answer I can give you is this: Jewish royalty serves Rome, and Jewish religious leaders serve themselves. Bernice thought if Nero had the power of life and death over me, my father would have to obey her wishes.”

Lucullus laughed, wanting to encourage the young Jew. “Little did they know you would make such good friends with a god! Far from being a prisoner, here you are, free and serving Nero.”

Chayim tried to look modest and failed.

“Tell them,” Lucullus said, “why and how you are here. It’s fascinating.”

Chayim gulped more wine. “There’s a woman—”

“Always a woman!” the elderly ex-mayor of Smyrna shouted and the others laughed.

When the laughter died, Lucullus looked at Chayim expectantly. Lucullus hoped this time, Chayim might reveal something that Lucullus hadn’t learned before.

“This woman’s husband attacked Nero at a dinner party,” Chayim said. “She was commanded to commit suicide but fled Rome.”

“And you’ve been sent to find her?” the first girl asked. “How terribly exciting.”

“Partly because I can recognize her face from that night at the dinner party,” Chayim said. “And partly because there are so few close to Nero that he can trust.”

All three girls nodded gravely. They were sitting beside a man who knew Nero!

“This woman’s husband actually attacked Nero?” asked the former mayor of Smyrna.

“Tried to kill him.” If Chayim was trying to hide his self-importance, he was doing a terrible job. The wine and the close attention of the women were making him careless, something that Lucullus noted with satisfaction. “Actually got his hands around Nero’s throat before the guards arrived. Trust me; I was there.”

“Attacked Nero at a dinner party?” the third girl asked, gasping. “Tell us more!”

“Does it matter why the man attacked?” Lucullus interrupted. “Chayim, tell them how you managed to get here to Patmos long before the woman you are chasing.”

Again, Chayim shrugged with false modesty. “I have a retinue of two dozen soldiers. And a letter from the emperor giving me full credit to spend what I need, when I need, where I need. Trust me; travel has not been an inconvenience.”

“Oh, my!” the first girl squeezed his thigh. “I think I’m falling in love.”

Laughter again, which irritated Lucullus. He wanted the young Jew as talkative as possible, without distractions. “At a wayside inn a few days’ travel outside Rome . . . , ” Lucullus coached Chayim.

“They were robbed,” Chayim said. “The woman and the old man traveling with her.”

“Old man?” the second girl said. “Who is the old man?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Chayim said. “He’ll die when I find the woman. No reason to take two prisoners back to Rome.”

“They were robbed . . . , ” Lucullus prompted.

“And when we arrived at that town a few days later,” Chayim obliged, “inquiring about a woman and an old man traveling together away from Rome, the thieves came forward. They offered to sell me a letter they’d stolen from the two. That letter directed them to Patmos. Instead of traveling overland like they did, I commandeered a navy ship and cruised here in ease to wait for them.”

“Why does Nero want the woman back in Rome?” the first girl asked, innocence in her voice. She glanced at Lucullus for approval. He winked, for he’d slipped her some gold ahead of the meal to ask this. “If Nero wanted her to commit suicide, why not kill her like the old man and save the effort of taking her back to Rome?”

Chayim looked in his near-empty goblet. He took a deep breath, as if he was about to answer.

Lucullus couldn’t help but lean forward. Here it was. If he could learn exactly why the woman was so important to Nero, it would be of great value. Enough to get him off this cursed island.

Chayim then grinned like a fox. “Well, if you want the answer to that, ask Helius, the one who sent me here on Nero’s behalf.”