Broken Vessels (volume 2 of Jars of Clay) (10 page)

There was a match in progress in the intermediate ring. Two men
in rawhide tunics and bare feet were sparring with blunt wooden swords. Cedric
stepped over to them and began shouting.

“You feeble-kneed cowards! You fight like women! Put your soul
into it. Remember, the loser of the fight loses his life!”

Lucius’s group was not taken to the first arena, but ushered to
the chicken coop. Lucius wondered if they required six grown men to gather the
eggs. No, it would be more degrading than that. They were to chase and catch
the hens. The last one to present a chicken was to be flogged.

Tullio unlocked their shackles, then shouted, “Go!”

This was Lucius’s chance at redemption. On the Vibius farm he’d
wrangled sheep and butchered chickens. As humbling as this exercise was, he was
young and limber. He felt a strange sort of victory in being the first to catch
his bird; he held it over his head and roared.

A small crowd had gathered to watch the new “students.” Who
would rise to become the next gladiator celebrity, Lucius wondered.

One man after the next caught a chicken until it was down to
Felix and a man half his age.

Titus was screaming for his uncle to hurry. Lucius followed
Felix’s stilted movements. He labored to breathe. The other man was stiff as
well, but Felix was an old man. Anger rose in Lucius’s chest. He didn’t care to
see any man flogged, but surely not this one who reminded him of his father.

Lucius caught himself holding his breath, hoping for a miracle.

But there was none. The other man succeeded in his catch. Felix
was the last man standing.

Titus’s face had lost its color. He shouted as the guards tied his
uncle to a pole. Tullio held him back. “You are no longer your own!” he spit.
“You belong to the emperor now.”

Lucius closed his eyes when the first strap whipped the old
man’s bare back. His cries made Lucius’s knees weak. A lump formed in his
throat. He wanted to kill the guard who flogged Felix.

Chapter Nineteen

HELENA

Young Antonius was three weeks old when the news arrived at the
house of Vibius. Along with her mother, father and brother, Helena nibbled on
the remains of their breakfast, relaxing in the warmth of the morning sun.

“An official statement was declared at the senate. The emperor
is coming to Carthage!” Brutus said, beaming. “I don’t believe he’s been back
since he was the general. Cassius, this news is great for business!”

Cassius nodded, but Helena could tell by the shadow that
crossed his face, he was worried. The return of Septimius Severus could be
trouble for their little Christian community.

“Do you think Augusta will join him?” Virina said.

“Yes, the emperor is bringing his wife and one of his sons.
They are celebrating the boy’s birthday. Here in Carthage! The games provided
in his honor will bring customers from miles away.” Brutus rubbed his hands
together in satisfaction.

The baby cried before Helena could think of a response. She was
about to lift herself off her lounging couch when Cassius jumped up.

“I’ll get him,” he said. He picked the baby up and immediately
the child began to coo. Helena smiled at her brother. He was a natural with
children and would be a great pater familia one day.

Brutus rose from his couch with some effort. He’d acquired a
cane recently, a twisted hand crafted Cyprus tree branch sold at the Forum.

“I have to get back to work,” he said. His limp was more
pronounced than before, Helena noted. Brutus’s bushy eyebrows raised in
question. “Cassius?”

Cassius handed the baby to her and followed him.

“I think I’ll retire to my chambers for awhile,” Virina said.
She called the servants to clean up and then lumbered up the stairs.

Before Helena could decide how she would best like to spend her
afternoon, there was a knock on the door. A servant answered it then summoned
her.

“Revocatus!” Helena remarked surprised by the unexpected
arrival of Secundus’s slave.

Never had a member of their small Christian community visited
their home before, much less uninvited. All meetings took place in homes where
the pater familia was a believer.

She noted the consternation on his face, and instinctively
understood that he was the bearer of important and possibly terrible news.

“What is it, Revocatus?” Helena asked, “Is there something
wrong? Is someone ill?”

“No one is ill. There has been an announcement. Severus has
pronounced an edict against all Christians condemning the practice of
Christianity as illegal. They have started persecution in Rome.”

Helena felt as if someone had poured cold water over her head.
Persecution had always been a possibility; she had known this when she
converted. But they had enjoyed such a long period of peace. She felt her
eyelids flutter as she tried to make sense of it.

“Why? Why now?” she finally said.

“There is apparently a shortage of criminals for the games.”

Helena nodded. Christians were to become part of the emperor’s
sport.

Revocatus continued, “Saturus wants to meet as soon as possible
for prayer.”

“Of course,” Helena said. “I’m afraid I don’t know the
whereabouts of Cassius. He just left with my father.”

“We will find him.”

“Good. I will collect Felicity. We will join you shortly.”

Chapter Twenty

LUCIUS

He still had his ticket to the games at the Coliseum; the date had
long since passed. On the second day after his arrival at the ludis they had
returned his personal items, including the pouch that held this ticket. Lucius
had stuffed it into his belt for good luck.

Lucius had lost count of how many days had passed by; they had
been a blur of battle exercises and animal kills. Just yesterday he’d gone face
to face with a wild boar. Its dark eyes were crazed, it had been provoked by
the handlers beforehand, and it breathed in heavy bursts through its snout. The
beast stormed at Lucius following an unbridled instinct to gore him in the gut
with its long horns—a certain death.

Lucius had, of course, hunted in the past, but never was he in
a situation where he in turn was being hunted.

His spine still tingled when he recalled the fear. His good
reflexes had saved him as he stabbed the wild beast through the heart with his
spear.

The spectators had cheered, but Lucius wasn’t certain it was
because his own life had been spared. More likely it was because it meant meat
for supper and stew for today’s lunch.

The men fell into a seating pattern based on where they’d sat
on the day they had arrived. Such creatures of habit, Lucius thought. Felix and
Titus sat across the wooden table from him. Lucius was glad to see that Felix
had recovered from the lashing he’d earned on the first day. Titus’s demeanor
had grown harder. Lucius could tell he was working hard to protect his uncle
during the exercises.

“Son,” Felix said between spoonfuls, “You never told us how you
got into trouble.”

Lucius relayed the story about Hermus, his gambling habit and
inability to pay and how he’d sent his daughter to do his dirty work for him.
The retelling reminded Lucius of his anger towards the man who was responsible
for sending him to this place worse than Hades.

“I tried to tell them I was innocent, but they must’ve had some
kind of agreement with Hermus. They wouldn’t listen to anything I said.”

“Ah,” Felix started. “I fear your only crime was being a loner.
I’ve heard they’re after strong men with no family connections. A gladiator’s
life is a short one. They have to keep training men.”

“What about you?” Lucius asked. His stew was growing cold with
all his talking. Their turn now.

Titus cleared his throat. “We’re not innocent, I’m afraid.
Well, at least, I’m not. Felix is guilty by association.”

Lucius glanced up, curious.

Titus squirmed. “Let’s just say it’s not a good idea to get
involved with a senator’s wife.”

Lucius nodded, then wiped his bowl clean with a piece of bread.
Getting involved with a woman you shouldn’t was a problem he understood.

The afternoon exercises started out in the usual manner. All
the men were given wooden swords and teamed up. Tullio had instructed them
thoroughly on the technique of hand to hand battle.

Lucius had been matched up with Titus.

They started off slowly, sparring, neither one intent on
hurting the other. They picked up their intensity when Tullio was watching,
Lucius jabbing, Titus blocking.

Titus couldn’t keep from sneaking peeks at his uncle. This was
Lucius’s advantage. When Titus’s concentration faltered, Lucius moved in,
stabbing him in the heart with enough force, Titus lost his footing and fell to
the ground.

Tullio applauded. “Nicely done.”

A smarmy grin crossed the instructor’s sweaty face. “I know how
we can increase the entertainment value.  Lucius and Felix, come to the center
of the ring.”

Lucius’s stomach dropped. His worst case scenario was to fight
against Felix. The elderly man looked equally dismayed. They had no choice but
to obey. They came together before Tullio, regarding each other with respect.

“The oldest against the youngest!” Tullio declared. “How about
that for fun?

Titus spoke out of turn. “How is that fair?” His hands formed
white knuckled fists at his side. Several guards jumped forward, grabbing his
arms. Titus spouted, “How could that possibly be an entertaining fight? A boy
against an old man?”

Tullio’s face twisted. “All fighting is entertainment! It’s not
about your life or your death, only how you entertain!”

He turned to his assistant. “Swords!”

Tullio grabbed the wooden weapons from Lucius and Felix. His
assistant returned.

“Now you will entertain us.” He handed Lucius and Felix each a
metal sword. Lucius’s head started to spin.

Tullio smirked, pleased with his own ingenuity. “To the death.”

Chapter Twenty-One

HELENA

The wooden shutters were pulled tightly closed, darkening the
room and preventing detection from passersby. Two large candles cast the only
light. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Helena made out the forms of
Saturus, Bithia and Priscilla; Secundus and Revocatus were there, along with
Didia. Felicity sat beside her, holding Antonius.

“Is it true that persecution has begun in Rome, or has the bird
gotten larger than its wings?” Secundus asked softly. “The last martyrdom in
Carthage occurred at least twenty years hence.”

Helena hoped the rumor was false. She held her breath waiting
for their leader’s answer.

“I believe the accounts, Secundus,” said Saturus. “The word we
have received has traveled through the Church. It is not merely propaganda
circulated by pagans.”

So, it was true, she thought. They were in real danger.

“How then should we respond?” Cassius inquired. “Some say
persecution is from the devil, yet others, like Tertullian, say that it is a
gift from God Himself.”

Helena spoke up. “How could persecution be a gift?” She
couldn’t help but shiver at the thought.

“I have a copy of Tertullian’s teaching on the subject right
here,” Saturus replied.

“When persecution strikes, the Church is mightily stirred; then
the faithful are more careful in their prayers and humility, to mutual charity
and love, to holiness and temperance. Men have time for nothing but fear and
hope. Therefore, it is clear that persecution, which works for the improvement
of the servants of God, cannot be blamed on the devil.”

Saturus paused, taking a moment to catch the eye of each one.
He broke the quiet, saying, “It is a sobering thought.”

“Indeed,” acknowledged Cassius, “but what greater proof of love
and devotion can we give our Lord than to remain faithful to Him and His word,
even unto death, since He too, died for us.”

“That cannot be argued,” agreed Saturus.

“We must remember others who have gone on to experience the
passion bravely before us,” said Secundus, “such as Justin.”

“He was persecuted under Marcus Aurelius,” Saturus reminded
them, “through his Prefect Rusticus who commanded him to approach the alter and
sacrifice to the gods or be tortured without mercy.”

Helena’s chest constricted, she found it difficult to take a
deep breath. How would she hold up to merciless torture? Would she remain
strong and faithful to the end? 

“In fact,” Cassius jumped in, “it is reported that the other
martyrs with Justin told Rusticus to do as he wished, for they were Christians
and would not sacrifice to idols.”

“This I have heard also, Cassius,” Saturus said. “Under the
orders of Rusticus, they were scourged and beheaded. They consummated their
martyrdom confessing their Savior.”

“Does that mean we should offer ourselves freely?” asked
Helena. “Is it wrong then, to hide or even defend ourselves?”

“This is an issue each one must wrestle with in his or her own
heart,” said Saturus. “I, for one, think it unwise to seek out persecution.”

“But if it comes to you,” Secundus responded, “it is a gift.”

“Exactly. For now we must continue to conceal our identities
and whereabouts as much as it is possible to do so without denying our faith,”
Saturus replied. “Let us turn our hearts to the Lord and pray for strength and
courage to stand in times of trial and testing.”

Secundus opened the letter from Matthew and began to read.

“Do not fear those who kill the body, but are unable to kill
the soul; but rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in
hell.”

What would become of them now? Helena wondered. Would she be
called upon to honor her Lord through death?

And for some reason, her thoughts turned to Lucius. Would he
ever return to Carthage? Would she see him again before the end?