Broken Vessels (volume 2 of Jars of Clay) (13 page)

“Helena! Please, not so loud,” Brutus’s eyes shot to the door.
He lowered his voice. “They may be listening.”

An uncomfortable silence settled in the room. Helena tried to
think of a way to make her situation clear.

“Father,” she finally said, “do you see this clay jar?” She
pointed to the wine decanter that remained on the table with the unwashed
goblets. “Is it to be a beverage pitcher, or is it something else?”

Brutus replied, “It is a beverage pitcher. What is your point?”

“Can it be called by any other name than what it is?”

“No. It is what it is.”

“Neither can I call myself anything else than what I am, a
Christian.”

Brutus dropped to his knees at his daughter’s feet. “I am pater
familia! Will you blatantly defy me?”

“Father, please. My affection for you is unchanged,” Helena
said tenderly. She dared to stroke his hair, as she had done when she was a
child. “It is not my desire to cause you grief.”

“Then don’t. I beg of you, Helena. For the sake of our family’s
reputation and for the love of your mother. We could not bear the loss of
another child.”

In that moment Helena was tempted. She felt tears welling up as
she considered his request. Could she turn her back on her new beliefs for the
sake of her father?

No, she must remain true to herself and to her new love.

She shook her head gently.

Brutus sprung to his feet faster than a crippling old man
should, eliciting a guttural roar. His gaze landed on the table where the clay
decanter sat with the six abandoned goblets, a mangled loaf of bread in the
center. His eyes widened with understanding. He raised his cane, whipping it
through the air into the pottery. Helena jumped back, gasping in shock. Shards
of clay flew across the room, landing loudly across the tile floor. Wine from
the decanter hit the wall, running down in narrow streams like blood.

She couldn’t stop staring at it. Blood will be shed. Drink this
in memory of me.

Brutus’s lower jaw slackened, as if he couldn’t believe that he
was responsible for this vandalism.

“Father,” Helena said. “I bid you good night.”

She left him standing there, quite certain that she would never
see him again this side of heaven.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

LUCIUS

They were held prisoner on the ship until nightfall. Lucius
could see nothing of Carthage beyond the yellow glow of the torches carried by
the horse and riders pulling their locked and barred carriage to the holding
place. He guessed that a gathering of torches in the distance was the Forum,
but he couldn’t make it out. For sure he did not see the Vibius property in
this darkness, and any hope of catching a glimpse of his family was lost.

“Is it good to be back?” Titus whispered to Lucius.

“I can’t tell that I am back.”

They entered the arena grounds through a back gate. At least
his feet hadn’t fallen asleep and Lucius could walk with dignity from the
carriage to the heavy wooden door with massive iron hinges. It was held open by
one of the guards, but ahead he could only see darkness.

The forward guard held a torch, and Lucius could tell by the
slant of the cobble floor that they were going underground. It smelt dank and
musky with a lingering scent of manure. The animal holding cells must be
nearby. The hallway was narrow and low and some of the taller men had to duck
to avoid clipping their foreheads. Lucius felt a wave of claustrophobia. He
took in a deep breath and focused on the torch flame.

Eventually they came to a cell with a door made of iron bars.
The guard took out a ring of keys and after fiddling for one, stuck it in the
padlock and opened it.

It was a bunkhouse and dining room combined. The guard holding
the flame lit the wall-mounted torches while another one instructed the men to
pick a cot. They were locked in for the night, two of the guards remaining on
shift to stand watch.

Lucius couldn’t tell if it was morning or not when they were
awakened next, since the cell didn’t have windows. In fact he didn’t really
know what day of the week it was or for that matter the month, so it was a
complete surprise when Tullio arrived after breakfast to announce the imperial games
had started that day.

“You will choose a breastplate and helmet,” Tullio said,
gesturing to the plainly clothed men who rolled carts filled with defensive
wear into the cell. “Weapons will be assigned to you as you enter the arena.”

Lucius chose a breastplate with large capped shoulders. It made
him look larger, more intimidating. He still didn’t know who or what he would
battle. A bear? A lion? A gladiator?

Once again he wondered if Helena would be in the crowd. Would
she be with her new husband? He wondered if married life had changed her.
Perhaps he would find it difficult to recognize her.

He came to the helmets and selected one. At first he thought
he’d want the crowd to see his face, to recognize their own son of Carthage.
Then he worried they wouldn’t know him and wouldn’t care if they did.

And he felt something akin to shame. Did he really want Helena
to know how far he had fallen? Better to let her believe he was making his
fortune as a free man somewhere in Italia. He was glad now to have the
disguise.

“You are here to entertain the emperor and his family,” Tullio
said. “How will you greet them?”

The men chanted in unison, rehearsing, “We who are about to die
salute you.”

Tullio applauded, his feeble clapping deadened by the small and
populated room.

“The gods have smiled on you today, as your task is simple.
Your job in this grand play is to chase the Christians around the arena. Create
a show, men. Do not kill them all at once. Pace yourselves.” 

Tullio seemed almost giddy as he skipped to the door. “And to
add variety to the crowd’s entertainment, you will each be given a different
weapon with instructions on how you are to kill your target.”

Heavily guarded, Lucius and the others followed Tullio to the
gate they would use to enter the arena. The stomping of boots reverberated
through the tunnel. Finally, they saw the light of day.

Time felt like it had slowed to a crawl. Lucius just wanted to
get this spectacle over with. He had no respect for Christians and they, with
their simple foolishness, deserved the end that was coming for them. Even so,
he didn’t enjoy the thought of actually killing one of them and the sooner they
got on with it the sooner they could return to the cell and hopefully engage in
a rewarding meal.

Finally, they were called forward. Each man was given a weapon
and instructions on how to use it.

“A dagger,” Tullio said as another man handed the long-bladed
knife to Lucius. “Across the throat. Make sure the target is facing the royal
family.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

HELENA

Antonius’s cries woke her in the night. Helena pulled herself
out of bed and lifted the child, bouncing him on her hip, sticking her finger
in his mouth over the swollen tooth buds that were causing him discomfort.

Awash with fatigue, Helena almost called Felicity to hand the
child over to her. But Felicity wasn’t her slave any longer and this child was
her responsibility. For now. Soon Cassius would come to claim him as his own,
for today was the beginning of the imperial games, and she and the others with
her at Thurbo Minor would be taken away in preparation for their deaths.

An icy thread of fear snaked down her spine. How was she to
die? Would it be terribly painful? Would she be frightened?

The babe cried out, his little face red, his eyes pinched
together in pain, tiny tears rolling down his cheeks.

Helena felt nothing. She was a terrible mother. How could she
not have any love for her own child?

It wasn’t that she hadn’t any affection for the boy, but it was
no more than she would have for a neighbor’s child—not real motherly love.

Did she inherit this trait from her own mother? Was this why Virina
was virtually absent from the lives of her children?

Or did it have more to do with who the father of this baby was?
Vincentius. Recollection of her husband still caused her stomach to tighten. It
was all she could do not to despise him, and it was only with the help of
prayer that she managed a little.

She wondered once again, if she would feel more for her child
if Lucius had been the father, if Antonius had shared his facial
characteristics and potentially his personality instead.

But that was not the case, and she must cast all such thoughts
aside. Once the baby calmed down, she lay him back in his cradle and then fell
to her knees at the side of her bed, asking the One True God to forgive her.

Later that morning, Cassius arrived. He greeted and blessed
Secundus, Revoticus and Felicity in turn, inquiring to their state of being,
and after being reassured, he entered the dining room with Helena for privacy.

“Tell me, Cassius, how is my family?”

Cassius straightened his toga, refusing to meet her eyes when
he answered. “They are well.”

“Please, brother, the truth.”

“They are troubled, Helena. This is to be expected.”

They sat together on the couch. Helena inquired, “And how is
Father?”

Cassius closed his eyes as he let out a heavy breath. “He has
denounced us, Helena. His public declaration is that he is the father of one
son.”

“Gordian must be enjoying this,” Helena said.

Cassius nodded. “Indeed. Gordian’s head has never been so
inflated. As for you, my sister, he says that if you weren’t sentenced to
death, he’d come and kill you himself.”

“Then am I glad to be imprisoned.” Helena grabbed Cassius’s
hand. “And how are you?”

Cassius smiled. “Pricilla and I were married yesterday.”

“Married! How wonderful.” Helena smiled, but sadness remained
in her eyes. She was sorry she had missed her brother’s nuptials.

“Just a short quiet ceremony at Priscilla’s home. We had
thought to wait until these troubling times had passed, but who knows if they
will ever pass. And with the child…”

“I’m so grateful that you are willing to take him.” Legally,
the child belonged to Brutus, but her parents weren’t able to care for him. She
hoped Brutus wouldn’t make it difficult for Cassius and Pricilla to raise the
child.

“Of course. With Antonius, we still will have a part of you.
Every time he smiles, I see you, Helena.”

Helena couldn’t conceal her shock. “You think he resembles me?”

Cassius smiled. “Yes, he does.”

Helena shook her head. “I only see…”

“It’s true there is his resemblance there,” he squeezed her
hand. “But you are part of Antonius as well.”

The guard called out. The time of Cassius’s visitation must
end. Helena retrieved the baby, handing him over to her brother.

“Fatherhood suits you,” she said. An enormous lump grew in her
throat. It was time to say good bye. She’d intended to remain strong, but the
tears that pressed against her eyes burst through. A huge sob escaped her lips.

Cassius pulled her into an embrace. “Peace my sister,” he said,
his voice cracking. Helena felt his body tremble as he stroked her hair and
gently kissed her cheek. “Our Lord is with you, Helena, and one day we will
meet again in heaven.”

They were transported to the holding cell in the belly of the
arena in the early morning hours of the next day. The guards were heavily armed
and walked with intimidating forceful steps that rang loudly through the narrow
maze of tunnels. Helena sought Felicity’s eyes. They were wide with fright,
mirroring hers, but she found comfort in her presence. Helena hoped that she
provided Felicity with some ease of mind as well.

They were thrust into a crowded cell. Helena wondered if these
people were fellow believers. The guards distributed plain white tunics,
instructing them all to change clothes.

Their lack of privacy was the empire’s attempt to demean them
before execution.

Felicity shielded Helena with her body while she quickly pulled
the white tunic over her head and discarded her toga. Helena did the same for
Felicity. She noted that everyone in the room made a concerted effort to keep
their eyes to the ground until the others had changed.

Shortly afterward, the crowd separated into small groups and
soft murmurs filled the emptiness.

“How do you think it will happen?” Felicity said quietly.

Helena shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“I’m afraid.”

Helena considered Felicity. Her former slave had lived through
much, modeling courage to Helena in so many ways.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” Helena said. “I’m afraid also.”

Would their death come by beast? Or fire? Or man?

Helena prayed that, however she may end up showing her passion
for Christ, it would go quickly. For all of them.

It was hard to grasp that this was her last day on this earth.
Eighteen years didn’t feel long enough. But it was her allotted time and soon
she would be in heaven where there would be no more tears or sadness. No more
death. Her only regret now was that she never had a chance to say goodbye to
Lucius.

Secundus tapped Helena on the shoulder and then pointed towards
the barred and locked doors. Saturnus stood on the other side.

A guard beckoned their small group.

“Saturnus?” Secundus said. “How did you get down here?”

“By the grace of God they let me in to offer encouragement,”
Saturnus said. “I only have a short time. Let me pray for you.”

Helena pressed in against the bars. Saturnus reached through
them and placed a hand on her shoulder. The strength of his grip brought her
much comfort.

“I wish they would permit me to go in your stead,” he said.