her hands. “I shall name them Alpha and Omega because I think of you first every morning and last every night.”
Adas was delighted to see her gentle smile. Her upturned, pixie eyes enchanted him; he marveled at their ability to change from sea-blue to pale green, depending on what colors she wore. A cobalt-blue ring around the irises added a stunning last touch.
In return, she presented him with an eilat stone, or Solomon’s Stone, comprised of green and blue minerals found in the areas high in copper in Judea. “Every time you look at this stone I am thinking of you. Even when you put it away, I will still think of you.”
Marcus Cornelius presented Adas with an Arabian horse since he never accepted pay for Dulcibella’s lessons. Dulcibella selected the horse, herself, making Adas treasure the mare even more. It grieved him to lose the guidance and support of Marcus and Iovita, but separation from the captivating company of Dulcibella crushed his soul. After a minimum of two years, he could request a transfer back to Caesarea. Dulcibella would be eighteen by then, a few years past the usual age of marriage, but she assured him she would wait for him. And he would wait for her.
Chapter 3
Adas wondered how his legionaries could be so oblivious to the veiled sun and the bitter taste in the air. It made him yearn for Caesarea, where the breeze wafted off the Mediterranean Sea and the sparkling water matched the color of Dulcibella’s eyes.
Lucius threw the lots to the ground. “Ohe! There’s the winning number. I get the tunic.” He started to stuff it in his knapsack, but a bout of coughing made him pause.
“You better sell it for a good price, Lucius,” Hektor said. “That’s the only reward you’ll ever get in this army, along with that cough of yours.”
Lucius wiped his mouth. “Not true. Centurion Valentius has promised me a promotion to the Special Forces unit, specifically as a beneficiarius, if I continue to succeed at my assignments. My pay will double and that will be the end of menial labor for me.”
Falto snorted doubtfully. “Valentius offered you beneficiarius status? When? Years ago? He has made the same promise to others without ever making good. You know Valentius cannot promote anyone above a non-commissioned principales without the tribune’s approval. What assignments did he give you? Find the best brothels?” Falto laughed, but saw the centurion frowning at him and shut his mouth. Falto winked at Hektor, thinking the gesture made them allies against Lucius’s bragging.
“You love to hear yourself talk, don’t you, Weasel? I don’t work for free. Compensation can be in many forms. Valentius trusts me with. . .well, he trusts me. He sent me to spy on that so-called prophet camped out by the Jordan River, the one Herod beheaded. Just to see what he would say, I asked what we should do to follow his teachings. You know what he said?” The other two shook their heads. “He said, ‘Carry out Roman laws justly.’ As if the law ever did justice for me! I spit on Roman law!”
“Watch what you say!” Hektor warned. “You’re close to treason. And even a Roman citizen is crucified for treason.”
Falto slapped Hektor across the shoulder. “That’s only for high treason and Lucius doesn’t do anything worse than a fist fight. Besides, we’re the only ones who heard what he said. A cut from the wages of a beneficiarius would insure our silence, don’t you thi. . .”
Lucius leapt to his feet so fast Falto didn’t have a chance to move. The enraged Roman grasped him by the straps of his leather armor and yanked the foolish man to his feet. His fist crashed into Falto’s face, knocking him to the ground. Fortunately for Falto, Lucius was still recovering from a previously broken arm and dislocated shoulder. If he had used his uninjured arm, Falto’s jaw would have been broken.
“Don’t you ever threaten to blackmail me again or I’ll kill you!” His pale eyes gleamed with malice as his lips curled back from his teeth.
Adas spun around and saw Falto sprawled on the ground. “What do you think you’re doing?” Lucius faced the centurion but said nothing. “You two are disgraceful!” He tossed Falto’s wineskin at him. “Wash the blood off your face.”
“There’s a waste of good wine,” Lucius muttered.
“Did you say something, Octavean?”
“No, Sir!” Lucius lowered his eyes.
Adas stalked away and sat down. He dropped his head to his fingertips and massaged his temples. He looked up at the tortured men on the crosses and his annoyance ebbed in the face of their agony. Shaking his head, Adas wondered why the Nazarene had been condemned to this misery since Pilate found him innocent of any crimes. Perhaps, the silk merchant was right to call it murder. Adas looked at the followers of Yeshua. The thought of Dulcibella or his own mother being forced to witness such a thing sickened him. He scrutinized the mysteriously darkened sun and wondered if the man on the center cross could be divine after all, but he immediately dismissed the idea. Adas knew about the Hebrew God, but how could Elohim allow a part of himself to be treated like the worst of the lowest criminals.
When Adas was a child, his nanny, Misha, told him stories about God, the Father of all creation. Misha said, “God loves humanity, but demands obedience and he will punish those who refuse to obey him. You can ask for forgiveness from God, but an animal which is innocent of all sin, must be sacrificed. There can be no forgiveness without the shedding of innocent blood.”
“That’s terrible!” six-year-old Adas cried. “They’ve done nothing wrong?”
“It is for that very reason,” Misha answered. “Anyone can take the punishment for a convicted criminal, if he is innocent of the crime. That is the law. But only someone who is pure and innocent can stand in for all sin. However, only animals are sacrificed, never children, no matter how innocent they are, for God strictly forbids passing any child through the fire. The pagans practice foundation sacrifices—killing their own children to bury them in the foundation of a new home or a city wall. That is terrible.”
Young Adas then asked his mother about the Roman gods. Marsetina answered, “The Romans and Greeks worship gods and goddesses who take pleasure in making humanity suffer. Their religion gives those ‘worshipers’ an excuse to do the same thing—for pleasure or greed. If you want to know the mind and heart of a people, look at what or who they worship. There are people who form a lump of clay into a figure, call it by a name, and bow down to it. They are mindless fools. They plead with hunks of marble or casts of bronze and expect miracles. They are too stupid to see the futility of praying to their own designs.”
“So if there are no gods,” Adas asked, “what made the world and everything in it?”
Marsetina shrugged. “If the gods exist, who made them?”
“Misha says there is only one God. Don’t you believe her?”
“Misha has great wisdom, but I do not share her belief. She worships a God who cannot be seen. Her faith exceeds her logic.”
“What is faith and logic?”
“Faith is when you believe something before it happens. Logic is when you believe something because it has already happened.”
“Then, I have both logic and faith,” said Adas, pleased with himself, “because I believe you and Father will love me tomorrow as much as you loved me yesterday.”
Marsetina kissed her child’s forehead
