Man of God (30 page)

The surviving gladiator ran out, with a net
and trident, but the gorilla grabbed the net from him and flung it
away. The animal made terrifying sounds and expressions, showing
its teeth; within minutes the gladiator was dead, and the gorilla
was rewarded by being pulled inside the shadowed doorway, to be
kept to fight another day.

It was inhuman…beyond comprehension…but
Caligula was loving it, as were most of the people. Even Claudius
and Agrippa seemed to enjoy the display. The foreigners didn’t
quite know how to react, and though some appeared to be gripped by
excitement, others looked sick and disgusted.

Condemned prisoners from the Tullianum
prison, and the two from the palace, were sent into the arena, tied
to the posts set in the center, and forced…one by one…to explain to
the emperor why they had committed their crimes. Most could not
think of an explanation and begged for mercy, but Caligula laughed
at them. The emperor’s servant, who had that day become a believer,
refused to say anything at all, which infuriated Caligula…though he
held firmly to his look of amusement. The executioners came out
with great, curved swords to cut off their heads.

The audience had quieted by now; there was
nothing
sporting
about this. The senators were glum, not
liking to be subjected to such unpleasantness…whether deserved or
not. Oblivious to the subtle change in the mood of the people,
Caligula shouted, “Bring out the woman!”

Paulus gripped the wood of his chair so hard
that his fingers bled. He heard the drums and trumpets, and watched
as she was led into the arena and abandoned by her guards. A murmur
went through the audience. Her gown was made brilliant by the sun;
she walked with confident steps to the section where the emperor
was seated, and paused. She seemed to make a deliberate effort not
to look at Paulus. He understood. Her mind was focused.

Caligula said, with his usual penchant for
drama, “Have you anything to say in regard to these crimes, Alysia
of Athens?”

Her voice carried clearly to those within
hearing distance; even those farthest away were impressed by her
poise, and seeming lack of fear.

“In regard to the charge of murder, I
consider myself not guilty, for I only defended myself. For that
reason I ask you to pardon me, and I ask for the forgiveness of the
family of Magnus Eustacius. I’m sorry for what happened, although
it was not my fault.”

“Not your fault?” Caligula turned and
pointed. “This is the uncle of the murdered man. Stand up, Senator
Eustacius. Your brother is dead and you are the nearest relative.
Will you forgive this woman? For if you can forgive her, why should
I not be as magnanimous?”

Eustacius struggled to his feet, looking
remarkably like his brother, his face red with the effort. “My
Lord, this woman murdered my nephew! And now she seeks to lay the
blame at his feet. She must pay for what she has done with her own
life!”

The senator resumed his seat, panting.
Caligula lifted an eyebrow, gazing down at Alysia.

“And the other charge? Do you deny attempting
to put a spell upon your emperor in order to weaken him, so that
you might impose your own will upon him?”

“I am innocent of the charge of sorcery.”

“I command you to tell the people what you
said to me.”

Alysia paused. Caligula seemed maddened by
her hesitation and shouted, “Repeat to the people the words you
spoke to me!”

“Sir, the spirit of the Lord prevents my
speaking them at this time, and in this place.”

“Spirit! You admit it is a spirit that leads
you? You confess that this spirit possesses you?”

“I confess that God leads me, of my own free
will, in the persons of the Holy Spirit and the Lord Jesus
Christ.”

“You are condemned out of your own mouth!”
the emperor proclaimed. He made a furious motion, spurring to
action someone who stood below.

Paulus saw Alysia turn, as the guard waiting
by the center post came toward her. The guard gestured and she
followed him to the post, where he took up the rope attached to it
and lashed her arms securely behind her. Then Paulus saw, with an
agonized groan in his soul, the appearance of three male lions,
their bodies almost skeletal with starvation. At once their eyes
fixed on the effulgence of Alysia’s gown. They made a cautions
circle around her, growling and snapping at each other; then, when
it seemed they would all pounce upon her, they began to inch
backward, pawing the air.

Paulus leaped to his feet. At once the guards
standing behind him lowered their weapons to point them at his
back. Caligula glanced at him. “Take your seat, Paulus
Valerius—lest you die at once on the point of a spear!”

“Let me go down and die with her!”

“I have better things in mind for you—and you
have much to account for.” He added slyly, “There is your daughter
to deal with, as well.”

It was only the mention of Rachel that urged
Paulus back into his seat. His eyes went to the lions, which were
roaring and moving frantically in a circle.

“What’s the matter with them?” Caligula
demanded.

“Perhaps it is the blinding color of her
gown,” suggested Agrippa. “I have never seen such a pure
whiteness.”

“Then take it off of her!”

There was a loud “harrumph” and a pluck at
his sleeve. Caligula whirled to stare at his uncle.

“Has your Majesty forgotten the decree that
women are not to be executed—naked?” ventured Claudius.

“What do I care for antiquated decrees?
Soldier, send someone down there to remove that gown!”

“The gods—” Claudius began, ending with a
gulp as Caligula glared at him.

“What about the gods, you stuttering
fool?”

“Your divine Majesty, do you risk offending
your fellow deities? The gods reserve such pleasure for themselves
only, and you would display this woman’s beauty before
commoners?”

It was obvious Caligula was affected by his
uncle’s words, though he struggled with his desire to publicly
shame the prisoner. Finally he said peevishly, “Then leave it. Tell
someone to slash her arm—perhaps blood will attract those cowardly
beasts!”

Paulus barely heard the exchange, puzzling at
why the lions had not attacked. For a moment his hopes
soared…perhaps God was going to spare Alysia’s life! But no sooner
had the thought gone through his mind than several soldiers entered
the arena, slowly, carrying shields and armed with javelins. They
eyed the lions with much trepidation, but the animals made no move
toward them. One of them ran the point of his sword down the outer
side of her right arm. She cried out as blood streamed from her arm
and soaked into the sand, as the soldiers rapidly retraced their
steps to safety.

“Sit down, Paulus Valerius, you are
obstructing my view!” Caligula poked his head around the back of
his chair and spoke to the appalled dignitaries. “I must apologize
for the poor performance of my lions!”

In spite of his sarcasm, there was an air of
uneasiness about the emperor that communicated itself to Paulus,
even in his own state of acute anxiety. Too overwrought to pray or
even think clearly, his eyes scanned the scene around him. It would
not be difficult to wrest a dagger from one of the guards and hold
it against the throat of the emperor. But what purpose would it
serve? Neither he nor Alysia would escape with their lives.

The lions began to snarl and rise up on their
hind legs, their mouths dripping. It seemed that, whatever had held
them back, was about to let go. The fluttering of the huge banner
caught Paulus’ eye, and without a moment’s hesitation he leaped
forward, grabbed it, and swung. He didn’t know or care if it would
hold his weight; one way or another he would reach the ground. His
body seemed to float downward and then his feet touched the sand.
Soldiers ran toward him and he heard Caligula’s voice, shrill with
excitement: “Let him alone! Let him feed the cursed creatures as
well—if they can figure out what they’re supposed to do!”

CHAPTER XXIII

The crowd was on its feet; even those
furthest away had gone wild, yelling and gesticulating. The
emperor’s eyes glowed…this
was
a rare show!

The astonished soldiers standing around the
passageways of the arena did not try to stop him as he ran toward
one of them, grabbing his sword and spear. He hadn’t handled a
sword in years, but the feel of it was as familiar as his own hand.
He saw Alysia give him a swift look of horror. A movement caught
his eye and he saw a man—Flavius!—running toward her, his own sword
drawn. Paulus didn’t know where he’d come from…but he’d probably
just sealed his own death.

Whatever the lions had seen or sensed that
prevented their attack…was gone. Paulus had never fought a wild
beast, other than a few experiences while boar hunting. A single
qualm of fear snaked through him, but was forgotten in his
determination that Alysia not be torn apart before his eyes. While
Flavius guarded Alysia, Paulus raced away from her, trying to draw
the lions toward himself. All three sprang after him.

The former gladiator proved his worth,
slashing out with the edge of his sword and cutting two hides
simultaneously. Paulus faced the third lion as it charged at him.
Feeling more confident with the sword, he dropped the spear and
braced himself as the lion went up on its hind legs, dug in its
claws and tried to take his entire shoulder in its mouth. Its legs
skidded in the sand but it continued to press forward. Paulus
grabbed a handful of mane with his left hand and jerked hard,
causing the animal to open its mouth incredibly wide, with such a
fearsome roar that the audience grew quiet with awe.

Paulus wrestled with it, amazed at its
strength in so starved a condition, amazed at his own
strength…which must be coming from God. He managed to pull back his
sword far enough to plunge it into the animal’s gut. It let out a
deep-throated cry and dropped, thrashing, to the ground. The people
cheered his victory.

He ran toward Flavius, who had wounded both
lions, but they were too much for him; he was about to fall beneath
them. Paulus thrust his sword into one, just as Flavius swiftly
advanced upon the other. To their surprise it suddenly seemed to
sag all over, tail and ears drooping, and whirled to run, aimlessly
darting here and there until it found a passageway and disappeared
into it. A concerted hiss went up from the masses. The other two
animals lay unmoving in the crimson sand.

Both men stood still for a moment, bleeding,
panting. They looked at each other and Paulus said quietly, “May
God reward you for what you have done this day, Flavius, my friend,
for I fear you will find no reward on this earth.”

Flavius nodded, saying nothing.

Caligula was on his feet, shouting, ”Bring
out that bull that kills everybody!”

Paulus’ body tensed; pain shot through it as
he became aware of the wounds on his shoulder and chest. He glanced
down and saw that he was bleeding freely through the torn cloth of
his tunic. He still grasped the sword, and ran across the arena to
retrieve the spear. Flavius edged away from him, waiting, looking
toward the gates at the opposite side of the arena. With a sound
like thunder the enraged bull barreled toward them. Again the crowd
rose, shouting, to its feet.

Seeming confused by the noise and movement,
the bull charged round and round, running and stopping again. It
snorted furiously and pawed the ground, its eyes rolling. A dwarf
ran out, his purpose to direct the animal’s attention to the
prisoner. He clumsily tied a scarlet sash around Alysia’s waist, as
she stood with her eyes closed, her lips moving silently. The great
animal watched the dwarf run in terror, flailing his arms, and
overtook him in one leap. People shouted and screamed, eager for
the full, gruesome spectacle. His body soon lay mangled and covered
with sand. Distracted by a swiftly approaching figure, the bull
swung its great head, made a sound of fury, and charged at
Paulus.

Paulus leaped aside and turned to run after
the animal, which had locked its legs and was sliding to a stop. It
was already beginning to turn when Paulus reached it, and he barely
had time to sink the sword into the bull’s flank when, bellowing
with rage, it lunged again. Paulus threw himself to the ground and
rolled, forced to drop the spear from his left hand. Rising up, he
tried to retrieve the sword from the rock-hard muscles of the
animal’s back, but it was running at such speed that he was unable
to grasp it. The bull seemed hardly affected by its wounds, and the
earth shook with its movements. It snorted heavily, mucous dripping
from its flaring nostrils.

Flavius had grabbed the spear. He tossed his
own sword to Paulus, aimed the spear, and threw it with all his
might. It drove deep into the animal’s chest, causing it to haul
backward and drop clumsily to its knees. Without hesitating, Paulus
raced toward the bull, now thrashing about and threatening to crush
him. With both hands he brought the sword down, almost decapitating
the dying animal. It gave a huge shudder, and moved no more.

Again, the people cheered with delight.
Caligula watched, thrilled by the exhibition, but hiding it beneath
what he must assume to be a stern expression. He seemed unaware
that he had risen. Paulus and Flavius waited for him to speak.
Paulus glanced back at Alysia, who had opened her eyes and now
looked directly at him.

The emperor gestured for them to walk
forward. The two men advanced…slowly, painfully.

“Flavius,” Caligula intoned, moving his arms
as though making a grand speech, “I am indeed disappointed to lose
so worthy and skilled a soldier! But in aiding this malefactor you
have decided your own fate. Tell me, how did you come to know
Paulus Valerius? Are you one of these contemptible Nazarenes as
well?”