Flame Within, page 16
His quiet words had a powerful impact on the tiny woman. What looked like shame crossed her face, and deep furrows lined her brow. Her eyes shone with confusion before she turned and left him.
Remorse filled Aidan at his harsh dealing with her. She was fighting the Truth, and it was not until that moment that he realized she feared it. He would add her to his prayers.
As Aidan moved toward the main chamber, his heart beat swiftly at the prospect of what lay ahead. He also had news. News for Moriah that he had not yet shared. The thought of what it could mean to them caused his mouth to go dry, and he quickened his steps in search of her.
❧
“My lady, may I speak with you?”
Moriah started and looked away from the gallery wall, up at Aidan’s solemn countenance. “Of course.”
She had felt the need to separate herself from the others for a time, to sit and rest and think about the future—if there was a future. Since the night they’d come here, she’d helped Deborah tend the five wounded in their group. Including Moriah, there were four women, one of them elderly, seven men, and three children. Moriah was amazed at the satisfaction she gained from serving others instead of being served. But the almost constant work, foreign to her, made her weary in both mind and body.
Aidan knelt beside her and offered a dry crust torn from one of the loaves. “You must eat. The sack of bread Urbanus brought from his bakery when he fled will last for a time. And we have Mathias’s wineskin of water. We shall not starve or thirst,” he added. “The fires cannot go on much longer.”
Moriah looked at the unappetizing morsel in his hand. She knew she should eat, but her stomach rebelled at the thought. “No, Aidan. I cannot.”
His eyes grew concerned. “At least take some water,” he suggested, holding a small dipper full of the life-giving liquid toward her.
Moriah nodded, and Aidan held the wooden cup to her lips. Though the liquid was not as cool as it could be, it felt good to her throat, still raw from the smoke she had inhaled. Wearily, she settled back against the wall. “Is Naoni faring well?”
“As well as can be expected.”
Moriah lowered her gaze to Aidan’s soot-streaked tunic. “She is very lovely—in both form and spirit. I can see why you love her.”
Moriah heard him gasp but did not look up. She didn’t want to see the effect of her words softening his face or the light that must surely be in his eyes at the mention of Naoni. She forced herself to speak. “In the time I have come to know her, I’ve found Naoni to be a remarkable woman. You spoke rightly when first you mentioned her that long-ago night in the garden. She is without resentment against those who have done her harm. Much like my parents were, I expect.”
“My lady, I have something I must tell you. Something I’ve wanted to share before now, but there never seemed an opportune moment.”
Curious, she lifted her head. A strange light did glow in his eyes, but Moriah was uncertain if it was due to love. “Yes, Aidan?” she whispered, wondering if he would now admit his feelings for Naoni.
“I am no longer a slave.”
Moriah stared. Her lifeblood felt as though it were draining away through the cold rock floor, causing her to feel faint. She was glad she was sitting down.
“No longer a slave?” she repeated numbly.
“Clophelius granted me my freedom before we left the house. I shared the gospel message with him, and though he was not pleased to learn of my Christianity, he chose to set me free. Indeed, he told me he planned to do so all along, but my words further persuaded him.”
“Free,” she repeated, her voice a mere wisp of sound.
The thought that now she would never see him again slammed across her mind. Yet perhaps this was better. If Aidan returned to Rome a slave, assuming the house still stood, it would have been torture for Moriah to see him and Naoni together as man and wife—and as the years passed, to see the children that resulted from their union.
“I am happy for you, Aidan,” she said, trying to instill a measure of joy into her words. Knowing she had failed miserably and uncertain what else there was to say, she lowered her gaze to the front of his tunic.
In the main chamber, someone began to sing a hymn for God’s deliverance and protection, as many had done throughout the long vigil. Other voices joined in, breaking the heavy quiet that suddenly descended between the two.
Aidan moved his hand to cover hers. Moriah thought her heart would cease beating. Her head snapped up in surprise.
“I do not love Naoni,” he said, so softly she almost could not hear him. His gaze was mesmerizing. “I love you.”
To her amazement, Aidan leaned closer and brushed his lips over hers in a gentle kiss.
A thousand cymbals crashed inside her brain. Warmth touched the core of her being, spreading throughout her veins like liquid fire. She lifted her hands to clutch his tunic and bring him closer. His arms went around her, and he deepened the kiss.
Moriah exulted, never wanting the moment to end. Here there were no soldiers to prompt Aidan into doing such a thing. Nor had she needed to beg him to hold her. Aidan kissed her because he desired it, because he loved her, and that knowledge filled Moriah with such happiness she could scarcely contain it.
The singing abruptly came to a halt, but she thought nothing of it. When one set of hollow footsteps echoed down the passageway near the main entrance and toward them, she barely was aware of the small disturbance and wished whoever it was would leave them be.
Suddenly Aidan was hauled from her. The ominous ring of a sword being pulled from its sheath filled the still air. Moriah blinked, disoriented. She looked in horror to Aidan sprawled on the ground, the point of a gleaming sword positioned at the hollow of his throat—then up to the Roman soldier who stood in a lunge and wielded the deadly weapon.
“Paulus,” she breathed in disbelief.
He ignored her. His eyes burned with hatred, and a pulse throbbed in his cheek. “Get up, scum!” he ordered Aidan. “And say a prayer to your God before you die!”
“Paulus—no!” Moriah shot up from the ground and moved toward Aidan. Spinning around to face Paulus, she placed herself between the angry soldier and the man she loved and wrapped both hands around Paulus’s sword arm. It was as hard and immovable as iron. She was dizzy from lack of food, but determination surged hot in her veins, giving her strength. “He has done no wrong.”
“I saw him, Moriah,” Paulus gritted. “I saw him dare to kiss you.”
Underneath her hands, his arm moved, and Aidan gasped. Alarmed, Moriah turned to look. A trickle of blood appeared on Aidan’s neck near the hollow of his throat.
“No!” Moriah dug her nails into Paulus’s arm, trying to push it away. “He has done no wrong. Do not harm him! Please, Paulus. Listen to me!”
Paulus turned to fully look at Moriah for the first time. His jaw grew hard as he clenched his teeth. “What enchantment have these Christians placed on you, Moriah? What sorcery have they practiced to cloud your mind to the truth?”
“No sorcery, Paulus,” she replied, her voice wavering. “And I know the truth for the first time in my life. Please, sheathe your sword.”
He studied her awhile longer, then straightened and slowly did as she requested, watching with narrowed eyes as Aidan stood to his feet. “I have come to take you back to the house, Moriah,” he said, his voice hard. “It was no easy task finding you. Only from a chance conversation I overheard this morning between two of many flocked outside the gates did I learn that some sought the catacombs for refuge—and in their company was a patrician’s daughter, her bodyguard, and her maid.”
“The house still stands?” Moriah’s words were hopeful. “And Clophelius—he is well?”
Paulus gave a curt nod, his gaze never leaving Aidan. “When Nero learned the Palatine was in danger, we returned, but by that time the scope of the fires was much too vast to stop. Rome is a wasteland of smoking ruins. Only four of the districts escaped destruction. Three regions are leveled, including the Palatine, and seven are seriously damaged. The house stands, though not unharmed. The fire touched it as well.”
“And Clophelius?” Moriah’s words were hoarse.
“Before the fires overtook the Caelian Hill, Senator Valerius came for my uncle and insisted he seek shelter. Against his will, he was carried to safety.”
“I am relieved to hear it,” Moriah murmured. “Is the fire completely extinguished?”
“After five days, it was put out, but a second fire started in another part of the city. Rome burned for nine days.”
“Nine days,” Moriah breathed in shock.
Paulus felt his tense expression relax as he looked at her. “I have spoken with Uncle Clophelius in great depth. You need not marry Servius Antonus. Uncle has agreed to a match between us when my commission in the army is finished this year.”
Moriah blinked, slowly shaking her head. “I cannot marry you, Paulus. I love another.”
His gaze whipped to Aidan. “He is but a slave, Moriah! And you are the daughter of a patrician. There can be no future for you with such a man.”
“He has been freed.” Moriah looked at Aidan, her expression tender. “And he is the man I choose.”
Paulus inhaled sharply, his breath whistling through his teeth. “By all that is sacred, he has placed an enchantment on you! He and these other Christians. But Nero will soon deal with their kind.”
“What do you mean?” Moriah swiftly returned her attention to Paulus.
“I have heard that Nero may need a scapegoat, someone on whom to place blame for the fire. I have also heard he has found a possible solution to the problem.” Paulus looked to the group of people curiously huddled together at the entrance, his gesture making it clear to all about whom he spoke.
“Nero burned Rome?” Moriah asked in a tight voice.
“There have been rumors circulating.” Paulus shrugged. “I do not know. But the people are angry and crying for justice to be served. As a soldier, loyal to the empire, it is my duty to honor that wish.” His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “Nero would be pleased if I was to bring him his first victims,” he threatened, eyeing the others. “And I will, Moriah. Unless you come with me.”
She straightened to her full height. “I cannot come with you. And if you take these people to Nero, then you must take me, as well. For I am one of them now.”
Paulus’s eyes widened. “Moriah, no. He is not worth this! Do not lie to save his skin.”
“I do not lie,” she said quietly. “I am a Christian.”
At his look of shocked horror, she took a step toward him and continued. “You once told me that you did not believe the Christian religion engaged in the horrible practices rumor has whispered. Well, Paulus, you were right.”
She lifted her hands in supplication, her eyes, the tone of her voice, pleading with him to understand. “You knew my father—my true father—and admired him these many years, or so you told me. Do you sincerely believe he would belong to a sect that would hurt others or set fire to an entire city and destroy its people?”
At his continued silence, she went on, and suddenly it was as though someone else spoke through her. “Whether Nero was responsible for the horror I and thousands of others suffered, I do not know. But I do know this. A madman was responsible for those fires. Fires that consumed everything in their paths, leaving nothing except a trail of destruction in their wake. But Jesus the Christ, the Son of the Most High God whom I’ve accepted, is a God of love and mercy.”
She lifted her lips in a small smile. “I have experienced the depth of His love, Paulus. It’s like a flame burning within, warming my heart and breathing life into my soul. Those of us who are His followers have known the wonder of His love burning within our breasts. It changes a person, Paulus. It truly does.”
He only stared, his mouth slack with disbelief.
“The fire that ravaged Rome brought nothing but pain and destruction and was the result of a depraved mind,” she emphasized solemnly. “But the fire that comes from the Lord brings healing and restoration. It yields nothing but His love.”
Paulus spoke, his voice tight with contained emotion. “And what about us, Moriah? What about my love for you?”
“Remember the day in the garden after we left the circus?” she asked quietly, reminding him of their kiss and the discomfort it evoked. “I have loved you, Paulus, as a dear cousin. And though now I know you are not my cousin, I will continue to care for you, as I always have, until death overtakes me.” Her forehead creased—the only sign of apprehension on her features. “Whether that day comes sooner than expected is your decision. But these people are my family. And this is where I belong.”
Defeat caused Paulus’s shoulders to slump, and he shook his head. “Do you truly believe I could take your life, Moriah?” His gaze flicked over the group of anxious Christians, then back to her. “I do not understand your God, but I know you. You would not pledge your loyalty to someone you did not fully trust. You are more clever than that.” He swallowed hard. “Neither you nor your friends shall see harm by my hand. I vow this to you.”
The relief in the chamber was palpable, though no one spoke. Paulus looked at the others, then back to Moriah.
“But a word of warning,” he added. “Both Nero and Poppaea are aware of you and your true parentage. In Antium, I heard Nero speak of it to Tigellinus, seeking his advice. The prefect has told him of your rare beauty, and Nero showed interest in bringing you to the palace, though he wasn’t pleased to hear who your true father was. Since it is no longer possible for you to claim ignorance to Christianity, should Nero summon you to pledge your allegiance to him and the empire and perhaps even to renounce any fealty to this Christ. . .” An urgency filled his voice. “You must leave Rome with all haste. You are no longer safe here. Do you understand, Moriah?”
A dazed expression covered her face, but she nodded.
His gaze slowly traveled over her features once more, then his jaw tightened, and he turned to go. Before he could walk away, Moriah put her hand to his arm.
“Paulus, wait.” She looked toward Deborah and saw Laniah standing close by. “Laniah, please bring me my box.”
The child nodded and hurried away. Soon she returned, her terrified gaze fastened on Paulus as she handed Moriah the requested item. The child darted back to Deborah, whose arms went around the girl. Moriah dug something from within the silver and ivory container and placed it in Paulus’s hand. Puzzled, he looked down at the statuette of a jade cat.
“I found it at the market—for your birthday. It reminded me of Claudius,” she explained, tears clouding her eyes. “I want you to have it, Paulus—to remember me.”
“Little dove, I could never forget you.”
She went to him and hugged him. Paulus tightened his arms around her, and she knew he understood they would never see each other again.
Twelve
“My lady, you are certain of this?”
Moriah looked into Deborah’s troubled eyes, her heart at peace. “I am certain. I love him, Deborah.”
The woman’s brow creased, though she gave a short nod. “I only wish for your happiness. If your mother were here, she would want the same.” She paused and looked away. “I’ve decided to stay in Rome. Naoni has asked this of me, and Laniah needs me. You no longer do. In truth, I never approved of Aidan, but he will take care of you. He has proven himself worthy in that regard.”
Moriah’s first instinct was to plead with Deborah to change her mind, but she realized her maidservant was right. Deborah had grown attached to the child Laniah, who had seemed to withdraw into a private world and had barely spoken since Paulus left the catacombs a short time ago. Still, Moriah had not realized her decision would cause her to lose Deborah’s companionship. Perhaps such a thing was best. Deborah was in no danger and had nothing to fear by staying in Rome. Moriah’s future was uncertain. Deborah’s decision was the right one.
She put her arms around the woman and kissed her cheek. “I shall dearly miss you, my friend. What will I do without you?”
Deborah returned her affection, and Moriah felt the woman’s tears against her face. “Please, Deborah,” Moriah felt the urge to say. “Listen to the words of Naoni. Do not allow fear to keep you from the Truth. Will you do this for me?”
Deborah pulled away, her expression uncertain, but she nodded. “Your bridegroom awaits, my lady. I wish you were able to wear the traditional orange veil, but I’m certain Aidan will not care that you are without it. At least I managed to remove the soot from your skin, and your face is glowing as brightly as the moon.” The smile she offered was feeble at best, and Moriah squeezed her hand.
Together they walked into another chamber lit with torchlight. Moriah joined Aidan, whose eyes held adoration for her, and they turned to stand before Junias. The others gathered round. One of the women sniffled.
The elder regarded them with a paternal smile. “Aidan, I look upon you as a son and am pleased with your choice of a bride. I have long prayed for this day, and I ask the Lord Jesus to watch over this joyful occasion and guide me in the words to speak. For where two or three are gathered in His name, there He is also.”
“Let it be so,” Aidan whispered.
“Cherish this woman you have chosen, Aidan. Sustain and protect her always. Love her as Christ loves the Church and gave Himself up for it, even to the point of death. So must you be willing to sacrifice your life for her. As you love your own body, love her, in all circumstances.”
“I will.” Aidan’s reply came without hesitation.
Junias looked at Moriah. “My lady, be subject to this man in all things, as to the Lord. Give him the honor he deserves. Stand beside him and be his helpmate. Revere him as your husband and esteem him highly.”
