Chapter 2

“Ah! Here’s another!” The loud voice shocked Tayletha into wakefulness. She pretended not to hear whoever was peering into their leafy alcove. The rough looking guard dragged her out and mockingly flung a lasso around her body then added a couple more loops for good measure. I am strung up like a calf, she thought frantically. How can I ever escape? Miraculously he did not notice Stephanos who was lying deeper in the hedge and was as still as a rotting fish tossed into the refuse pile.

“Why are you tying me up? I did nothing wrong!”

His laugh was brutal. “Do not lie to me! You are one of those thieving beggar children-“

“Do I look like a beggar child? Are my clothes in rags?” Oh dear, I should never have drawn any attention to my looks! Especially now that my dress is torn! He'll see my unusually pale face and wonder!

“Nay, but something suspiciously wrong; Nobody in their right mind would chose to sleep in the hedgerows instead of a decent bed.”

“But I lost my way in the dark of the night!”

“Ha! Tell that to the magistrate! He's heard better stories.” He knotted the rope so tightly she screamed for mercy.

“What going on here?” a dignified looking officer demanded. He coolly reined in his majestic looking Arabian stallion which danced on his hind legs before coming to a full stop. Tayletha saw that the Centurion was still immaculate in his white tunic and red toga in spite of the heat and dust that was permeating the air. It made her feel grubby in comparison.

“I am tying up another scamp, sir,” The guard said.

“That is no scamp!” The Roman centurion gazed searchingly into Tayletha’s eyes, and then briefly scanned her apparel.

“Can’t you recognize fine garments when you see them? Let her go!”

“But something’s fishy! Why else would she be sleeping in the hedgerow?”

“The hedgerow?” Beneath heavy eyebrows, his eyes gazed piercingly down at her. Tayletha saw his jaw tighten then he growled, “Are you a runaway?”

Tayletha shook her head. Her palla had fallen off in the scuffle. It was hooked on some brambles nearby so she could only pray they would not take note of her ghastly pale complexion, a result of living in the catacombs too long. How she wished she could hide beneath that useless shawl! Belatedly she remembered to look demurely down as all well-bred girls are expected to do in public.

“Something is suspicious,” The centurion muttered. Then he lifted her chin to force her to look him in the eyes. “You are one of those pale-ones, are you not? Answer me!”

“What do you mean; pale-ones?” Tayletha tried to sound sweet and unafraid although her heart jumped like the hind leg of a trapped rabbit.

“You know; Christianus; one of those followers of a crucified god!”

The square-built guard was rubbing his hands maliciously.

“Speak up!”

Tayletha paused before answering. If I admit loving the Christos, I'll be thrown to the lions! What would happen to Stephanos if I was taken? How would he find his way home?

“Answer me! Are you one of those idiotic dead-man-worshippers?”

That insult was too much for Tayletha to take.

“Yes I am! I am a worshipper of the one true God! Christianus sum.`”

The officer seemed taken aback for an instant by her fiery courage, and then leaned over conniving.

“Tell you what. You are far too winsome a lass to be caught up with such nasty business. I am sure you have been inculcated. Someone your age should be making merry; flirting with the lads and in general having a good time. I’d lay a wager your folks convinced you to worship this –this, uh, Jesus.”

Tayletha took note that the officer was more careful this time not to say anything negative about the one he recognized as her lord. He stroked the stallion’s mane without really noticing what he was doing. Tayletha bit her lip in an effort to calm her roiled up nerves and wondered what he was going to say next. At length he continued.

“I would like to take you into our home and show you what a fine place this world is. As you well know, adoption is popular among the elite. My wife, who is childless, would love it if I would bring home such a lovely young wench as you are. All you would have to do to accept this lucrative offer is pretend you have never heard of an invisible god!”

Tayletha found the offer alluring. I have never known a life of relaxation and fun. I have never known what it would be like to live like other girls who are so carefree. She was thinking of the ones she had seen only yesterday parading down the street with garlands in their hair and gowns of snowy white. I'm so young and living in the Catacombs is a miserable existence! Like a rodent! Even the beggars can enjoy sunshine and fresh air more than we can. Oh for a moment of pure pleasure...

As the officer watched various emotions flit across the young face before him, he carefully controlled his own features. What she does not know is that adoption would never be a consideration! I despise the Christianus! They are weak and foolish! But then his eyes softened just a bit. Yet she does seem too young and attractive to die a horrible death: even I will acknowledge that! She would make a mighty attractive slave, though.”

“I-I would have to think about it,”

A sneer quickly crossed the centurion’s strong features but she had been looking down at that moment so hadn't noticed.

“You can't do that!” The guard protested; “She admitted to being a Christianus!” The centurion silenced him with a stony glare.

Tayletha knew she should be praying for direction, so halfheartedly tried. When she did, Shekinah, which is the compassionate presence of Jesus, became more real to her. His voice fell like dewdrops on her soul; I will never leave you nor forsake you, He whispered. The tender tones touched her sorely tried spirit, and her eyes flashed. “I will not forsake the Friend who died for me!” she cried, and struggled to get free.

The officer reared back as if in shock. Quite unknown to Tayletha he had faced severe trauma only a month before. Her reference to a dying friend was like a spear wound to his heart. How could she know anything about that battle with the Scordisci? Who could have told her about the young soldier, who flung himself in front of me in order to save my life? When the stallion he had been charging with, stumbled, nearly throwing him, a fierce enemy had rammed through the melee, swinging his two-sided battle-axe.

That foot soldier protected me, but had been hacked to death in the process. That savage had no chance against my rage, but that cannot salve my inner turmoil!

With an effort, the officer once again controlled his features, and turned swiftly on the guard. “Back to work! You are supposed to be ridding the streets of pick-pockets, brawlers and the like, not snivelling around in other people’s business.”

“But this is my business, Centurio!”

The officer rewarded him with a swift cuff on the cheek for his insolence. With a malevolent glare, the scruffy looking guard shuffled way trying to relocate his lost pride.

Tayletha spied a flower peering out between two cobblestones and her lips tightened. Aye, even in the dungeon I will bloom for Thee. I cannot live without you! Dying is easier than losing your Shekinah! Forgive me for being so nearly lured away. She set her chin. If I must die for my faith, then I will.

The officer's eyes hardened. “Follow me!” He was chagrined to realize that her whole body was ridiculously wrapped in rope. The guard probably did that just to shame or humiliate her. He unwound her, and fastened one end to her wrist and the other to his wide belt. The rough hemp scratched her skin but that was the least of her troubles.

Lord, I commit my life to you, she sighed while struggling to keep up with her captor. She saw people pause in their bustling about to stare at her and call out sneering remarks.

I don't want to die! My Mitera and Pateras will grieve deeply for me! I want to live! I want to have fun! She thought with a pang of sorrow of the happy, chattering children thronging the streets. I want to get married eventually like other madels my age! I want to have babies!

As she stumbled behind the trotting stallion, the rough cobblestones caused her ankle to twist but that pain was minor compared to what in all probability she was about to face. She had never been to the catacombs but had heard enough about them to picture hungry lions pacing the sandy arena. I don't want to be torn apart by the jaws of a beast!

Just the week before her father had allowed her to visit the site of a crucifixion for the first time. Always in the past he had said; “Nay, you are too young, my child.” However, this time it was her older cousin, her hero, who was among the group of Christians impaled on trees.

“Abba.” she had begged and clasped her hands, “He is my cousin, and I want so much to say goodbye to him. I haven’t seen him since he was thrown into the dungeon over three months ago. They have been – hanging there so long already. He might- might – die- today-before I can say good bye!”

“But it is so dangerous,” Her mother looked worried.

“I know, Imma, dear. I know. I will be very careful and stay close to you.”

She remembered walking over to her mother and putting Lydda’s head against her strong, young shoulder and her arm around her waist. There was something about her mother's retiring nature that always softened her own quick, impulsive spirit.

So, unwillingly, her father had let her go. They did not steal out until well after dark. When they reached the crucifixion site, they had huddled in the shadows with others. Marcus' mother, Vidalia, had appeared tall and strong, but Tayletha knew her heart was breaking. Once when the lamp had lit up her face, Tayletha had seen the terrible pain in her aunt's eyes.

The scene of those young men writhing in anguish was very hard for the young girl to bear. It reminded her of her dear Savior who had suffered and died in the same awful manner. She felt smitten! And to think I was tempted to deny Him! How could I have considered it? She swallowed a lump in her throat. Now I must suffer.

Tayletha had found it hard to look at Marcus as they stood around that dark night. She had mourned for all those young victims, but especially her tall, handsome, fun-loving cousin, as he writhed and tried to inhale air into his lungs. He was in such obvious agony.

Now, as she stumbled along, nearly oblivious to the pushing, smelly pedestrians, she thought of all the times he had gotten a laugh, or at least a smile out of a group of his believing friends when they were feeling despondent about their situation. Tayletha's lip trembled…He was never backward about sharing his love for Jesus. Teared prickled beneath her eyelids. Would he have been lured away like I almost was?

Her eyes focused on the centurion's back as sorrowing memories made her immune to the ridicule being hurled at her.

The young men had expired one by one. Believers came out of the shadows to bear them away on stretchers. Slowly the broken bodies were carried back to the catacombs, with only one small lamp leading the way.

Lydda had kept her arm around her sister Vidalia’s waist while Tayletha trudged soberly on the other side. Broken sobs were punctuated by the sound of shuffling footsteps. Do I have what it takes to be faithful? Marcus and the others suffered so terribly. Could I endure as much?

Sweat beaded, then ran down her forehead and around her neckline but she could not raise her hand to wipe it away. One of her sandal straps broke and in her effort to keep up with the officer, she sprained her ankle even more severely. With a moan of pain, she fell to her knees on the rough stones. Just as the officer turned on his horse to yank her to her feet, someone screamed, and then another even louder shriek was heard. A stallion dragging a chariot, whinnied shrilly and charged through the teeming multitude. Tayletha, still crumbled on the street, froze, her eyes transfixed. A horse with wild eyes and foaming nostrils was thundering her way! The centurion’ dragged her off to the side and with his dagger slashed the rope that bound her to him.

“Stay right there,” he commanded racing towards the runaway.

A youthful rider from the equestrian class was whipping his horse into frenzy while his chariot rattled and bounced behind him. Obviously he was getting much amusement from terrorizing the crowd while heading for the races.

Several pickpockets used the confusion and hysteria to dart in and out of the milling crowds in order to “relieve” many of their heavy gold-filled pouches. Such a pandemonium Tayletha had never witnessed before. Mothers were shrieking at their children to stay clear of the horse’s hooves. Men were cursing because of being robbed; some were running one way to catch the thieves, while others were trying to get a handle on the charging horse’s reins.

An old man was tumbled to the ground. Tayletha reached out to assist him then saw a flash of ragged gray just before unseen hands grabbed her.

“You are free,” Broken Nose crowed! “I have been shadowing you all morning but did not know how to free you. What luck!” With teeth and claw, he un-knotted the rope while dragging her in the deep shadows between two buildings. Soon he paused. “It will never do for you to be seen with me,--a beggar boy—in broad day light- so I will tell you where to git.”

She impatiently waited while he continued working at the knots. They knew that the riot would die down soon and the officer would be after her again so planned to show her a different route.

“He will be expecting you to go back where you come from,” he explained.

Broken Nose reached for a pointed stone then scratched a rough map in the dirt. “Here’s where you go.” Tayletha watched him intently. How will I remember it all?

“Don’t look at me; look at this map! Memorize the details. Stephanos is safe. Rialto, my kid brother, is looking out for him.” He allowed himself a brief smile. “He has the bread. Act casual. Now go.”

“I wish I could thank you.” Tayletha’s dark eyes glistened with gratitude.

“We got the bread,” he reminded her and rubbed the map out with his foot before scampering off down a side street.

Tayletha stood to her feet and smoothed her dress as best she could. Her eyes darted both ways. No one is watching me. She blended with the crowd and quietly left the busy square behind.

She felt a grin stretching from ear to ear. I am free! Truly free! I’m not on my way to the dungeon, after all! Back to the catacombs I go! But first to find Stephanos!

Tayletha forced herself to stroll casually down a tree-lined side street. All her instincts were more alert than her actions would indicate and she bit her lip until it nearly bled when she realized someone was coming up behind her. She heard the soft footfalls of hurrying feet but resisted the impulse to flee which would only make matters worse.

Someone came up beside her; between her and the building she was passing; something brushed against her arm. She turned quickly towards the intrusion and Rialto thrust her palla into her arms.

“Cover yerself, ” he advised, looking straight ahead. Gratefully she draped the shawl over head, low, like an old woman would, but made sure one end dangled across the rip in her sleeve to conceal it. When Rialto helped Stephanos down from a nearby sycamore tree, it took an effort, but she resisted the desire to stoop down and give him a tight hug.

Rialto saluted with the loaf of bread then after one swift look around for observers dashed away and out of their lives.

Stephanos slipped his little hand into Tayletha’s as they headed in the direction the map had indicated. Tayletha chewed her lip nervously as they entered one of the poorest sections in the city. What is worse; Roman officers or cut throats? She was glad for the feeling of that warm hand in her own. Surely in the bright of day no one will kill us. Surely they don't expect us to be harbouring gold coins. Enough! She smiled at her small brother, whose face was pale with fatigue and something else. Worry, probably.

“Let's go!”