An Echo in the Darkness(22)

Marcus laughed wryly. “A safe reply, Lycus.” He looked at him solemnly. “I’m not testing you. Answer me as a man and not a slave.”

Lycus was silent so long, Marcus didn’t think he would answer at all. “I don’t know, my lord,” he said frankly. “I have worshiped many gods in my lifetime, but never this one.”

“And have any of them helped you?”

“It helped me to think they might.”

“What do you believe in now?”

“I’ve come to believe that each man must come to terms with his own life and situation and make the most of whatever it may be, slave or free.”

“Then you don’t believe in an afterlife such as those who worship Cybele or those who bow down to this Jesus of Nazareth?”

Lycus heard the edge in his master’s voice and answered cautiously. “It would be comforting to believe it.”

“That’s not an answer, Lycus.”

“Perhaps I don’t have the answers you seek, my lord.”

Marcus sighed, knowing Lycus would not be completely honest with him. It was a simple matter of survival that a slave keep his true feelings secret. Had Hadassah kept her faith secret, she would still be alive.

“No,” Marcus said, “you don’t have the answers I need. Perhaps no one does. I suppose, as you imply, each person has their own religion.” He drank his wine. “For some, it’s the death of them,” he said and set it down. “You may go, Lycus.”

The sun set before Marcus left the terrace. He had changed his mind about visiting his mother. It seemed imperative that he speak with her tonight.

Iulius opened the door when he arrived. “My lord, we received word you weren’t coming this evening.”

“I take it my mother has gone out for the evening,” he said in dismay, entering the hall. Removing his woolen cape, he tossed it heedlessly on a marble bench.

Iulius took it up and put it over his arm. “She’s in her lararium. Please, my lord, make yourself comfortable in the triclinium or peristyle and I’ll tell your mother you’re here.” He left Marcus and went down the tiled corridor that opened into the peristyle. The lararium was nestled in the west corner, situated there for privacy and quiet. The door stood open, and Iulius saw Lady Phoebe sitting on a chair with her head bowed. She heard him and glanced his way. “I apologize for interrupting your prayers, my lady,” he said sincerely.

“It’s all right, Iulius. I’m simply too weary this evening to concentrate.” She rose, and in the lamplight, Iulius saw new lines of fatigue in her lovely face. “What is it?”

“Your son is here.”

“Oh!” Smiling, she hurried past him.

Iulius followed and watched Phoebe embraced by her son. He hoped Marcus would notice her exhaustion and speak to her about spending so much of her strength in caring for the poor. She had been gone from dawn this morning until only a few hours ago. He had overstepped himself once in trying to suggest she allow him or the other servants to deliver whatever food and clothing she wanted taken to the poor. Phoebe had insisted it was her pleasure to do so.

“Athena’s son wasn’t well when I saw her this morning. I want to see if he’s better tomorrow,” she had said, speaking of a woman whose husband had sailed for a number of years on one of Decimus Valerian’s ships and been swept over the side during a heavy storm. Since the master’s death, Phoebe Valerian had befriended all the families who had lost husbands or fathers while laboring on Valerian ships or docks.

Iulius always accompanied her during her visits to various families in need. One young woman, newly widowed and terrified that she would find no way to provide for her children, had prostrated herself before Phoebe when she arrived at the dreary tenement. Dismayed, Phoebe had quickly drawn the young woman up and embraced her. A widow herself, Phoebe understood grief. She remained for several hours, talking with the younger woman, sharing her anguish and offering comfort.

Iulius revered his mistress, for she gave out of love rather than a sense of responsibility or fear of the mob. The widows and orphans in the rat-infested tenements near the Ephesian docks knew she loved them and so loved her in return.

Now Iulius watched as her affection for her son lit her tired face. “Your servant sent word you weren’t coming this evening, Marcus. I thought you were otherwise occupied,” Phoebe said.

Marcus did notice her fatigue but made no remark. He had encouraged her to rest more the last time he had visited with her, and it had done little good. Besides, he had other things on his mind this evening.

“I had some things I wanted to think over.”