horror in her eyes, he turned to leave. “Be warned, slave. Disappear again and you won’t like the consequences. If you think dusting storage rooms is punishment, you’ll realize it’s child’s play compared to the tasks I’ll drop at your feet.”
Outside, the sun beat down on him. He sensed Pelonia was jesting when she spoke of murdering him and her God’s forgiveness for such an act, but what if it were true? What if her God were powerful enough to forgive the vilest crime and erase the guilt crippling his soul?
Hope flickered like an elusive flame inside him, then burned out just as quickly. He’d done too much evil to think of receiving mercy. He’d killed countless men, many of them Christians. Why would their God embrace an enemy?
He shook his head, his spirit bleak. He was lost with no way to be found. He should accept his fate and stop longing for redemption. Deep in his heart he accepted he wasn’t worthy.
Chapter Six
Pelonia couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned on her hard pallet, her body begging for slumber, her mind too conflicted to rest. She kept envisioning Caros’s dejected face when she’d taunted him. How could she have suggested she’d murder him or that God would forgive her for the crime? Yes, she’d been angry, but such meanness wasn’t her way.
She didn’t feel like herself anymore. Her whole life had changed for the bitter. She closed her eyes and tried to pray, once again asking for forgiveness and direction. Afterward, her heart was lighter, but God seemed just as distant.
She gazed out the open window. It would be dawn soon, but for now an array of stars twinkled in the tar-black sky. As a child, she’d loved gazing into the night, memorizing the constellations her tutors had shown her. A smile curved her mouth as she remembered her father pointing out different celestial patterns and teaching her the wonders of God’s creation. With true gratitude, she thanked the Lord for those sweet memories.
Giving up on sleep, she flipped away the light covering and stood. Stiff muscles protested as she crossed the tiny room she’d inhabited since Caros brought her here from the slave quarters eight days ago. She wondered when she would join the other slaves. Surely Caros had better use for the space than to allow her a private chamber.
She rested her palms on the windowsill. The first rose-colored streaks of dawn painted the horizon. A cool breeze ruffled her hair and a dog barked in the distance, the only sound amid the silence.
Steps shuffled in the hall. Someone pounded on the portal loud enough to wake the deepest sleeper.
“It’s time to rise,” Lucia commanded through the closed portal.
“I’m coming.”
“Be quick about it. Find out what herbs Cook needs from the garden and fetch them for him.”
Pelonia changed her tunic and wrapped the shawl around her shoulders before venturing into the corridor. A series of lanterns lit the way downstairs to the back of the house. A pair of guards waited at attention by the rear door. With a hurried greeting to the giant, dark-skinned Africans, she crossed outside into the fresh air. The smell of baking bread made her mouth water.
Following the brick path to the kitchen, she glimpsed Caros training with a sword in the peach orchard. A look of concentration etched his handsome face. He didn’t see her. Free to watch him without the expectation of conversation, she halted, mesmerized by the power and grace of his movements. He reminded her of music come to life in human form. Even the scar that looked like the swipe of a lion’s claw across his chest did nothing to detract from his appeal.
“Don’t fall in love with him,” Lucia said, slithering up beside her. “If any woman ever claims his heart, it will be me.”
Pelonia turned to see the healer fixed on Caros with a hungry gleam in her eyes. “You have nothing to fear from me. The man I choose to love will be the exact opposite of Caros Viriathos.”
“How so?” Lucia’s gaze never left her master.
“I want my husband to share my faith.”
“Husband?” The healer snickered. “You’re a slave. Why do you think you’ll be permitted to marry?”
Pelonia frowned. “I won’t always be a prisoner here. I refuse to believe I’ll never have a family of my own.”
Lucia snorted. “You should be thankful you’re alive and give up your fanciful notions.”
“It’s not fanciful to have faith. Circumstances can change as quickly as an ocean current.”
“Like your fortunes did the day you came here?”
“Yes,” Pelonia admitted, stung by Lucia’s harsh reminder.
“Then I can do without your faith. Why serve a deity who finds pleasure in making you a slave?”
For a moment, Pelonia grappled for an answer. Lucia’s question echoed the very words she’d asked herself so often since coming here. She glanced away from Lucia’s sneer to find Caros had finished his practice.
Her face flushed with pleasure when she noticed him watching her. Embarrassed by her reaction, she sought out Lucia’s harsh features like a lifeline.
“My God’s ways are a puzzle at times,” she said, clinging to her beliefs when she had little else to offer. “But I believe He’ll work all for my good if I’m patient and wait for Him to reveal His purpose.”
“Then you’re a fool. Why wait for your God to cause you more pain? Why not take matters into your own hands?”
A rooster crowed. Caros went off to the gladiators’ barracks. Two other slaves finished feeding the animals and walked past them into the house.
“I could arrange for your freedom,” Lucia said once they were alone.
Pelonia’s heart quickened. A surge of hope welled inside her as did her suspicion. “Why take such a risk? If Caros found out, he’d punish us both.”
Lucia flipped her long black braid over her shoulder. “Isn’t it obvious? I want the master for myself. Somehow you’ve bewitched him. He hasn’t been himself since you came here. He’s only waiting for your body to heal before he claims you, but I’m certain he’d forget you if you’d just disappear.”
Why shouldn’t she listen to Lucia? Both of them would have what they wanted if she accepted the healer’s help. “When could you arrange for me to leave?”
The morning light gave Lucia’s face a reddish cast. She smiled. “As early as tonight if you’re willing.”
Caros added another ladle of water to the red-hot coals. The liquid sizzled and steam filled the circular chamber of the bathhouse. He leaned against the warm marble wall, sweat beading on his skin.
After the morning’s sword practice and another taxing workout in the bath’s gymnasium, he hurt all over. Little wonder. His fight with Alexius yesterday had left his ribs bruised and his jaw throbbing. He’d been mad to double his usual exercise. Even more foolish to believe the added work would hinder his thoughts from straying to the unwelcome emotions Pelonia stirred in him.
The
