Page 67 of Of Love and Treason
“Jailor.” Beatrix’s hands rose to cover her nose and mouth. Muffled gasps choked the room although it held less than a dozen people. “You’ve found him? Where is he?”
Pater swallowed but said nothing. His eyes locked with Beatrix’s, full of remorse. “What I reveal cannot leave this room,” he said in a low voice, glancing past Beatrix toward the others. “Can we trust them?”
At Beatrix’s quick nod, Pater’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
An older man with desert skin and white hair threaded with black strands rose and met them where they stood near the door. “I am Marius.” He bowed. “Welcome. Please, sit, and we will talk.” He held out an arm, gesturing toward the conglomeration of seats.
Beatrix said nothing as she led the way to the circle of couches, but her hands trembled at her sides. Marius introduced his wife, Martha, and three sons and daughter-in law. Iris struggled to remember the foreign-sounding names. Lalia and Rue, whom she’d already met, dashed across the marble tiles with squeals of “Mama” and “Baba,” throwing themselves at the younger couple. Abachum closed the door behind them. Iris’s legs shook as she lowered herself to an empty couch. Beside her, Pater sat stiff.
“You’ve seen Valens?” Beatrix asked again. Her knees bent and she dropped onto a chair with such force the legs screeched against the tiles.
Quintus nodded.
“You must have spoken with the Urbans or Vigiles.” Beatrix leaned forward in her seat. “Is he well? Where is he?”
“The carcer.” Pater choked the words in a voice full of apology. Iris had never seen him without his mask of courage and confidence.
“All this time?”Beatrix squeaked, voice trembling with barely checked emotion. “Or is this recent?”
Iris’s heart began to race. Valentine had told her to tell her story. But what if these people did not believe her? Surely Beatrix would. She’d known Iris before. Perspiration prickled her forehead. She took a breath.
“Valentine told us to come.” Iris flicked a glance at Beatrix. “Heisin the carcer, though I did not know it when I brought you there.”
Beatrix’s lips pressed into a line, but she said nothing, waiting for the explanation. Her dark eyes flicked back and forth between Iris and Quintus, gratefulness and betrayal warring in her expression.
Iris chewed her lip, the story she had rehearsed on the way fleeing. “I was blind.” She faltered, pulse flooding her face with heat. Everyone’s eyes snapped to her as the words began pouring out in a nervous rush. “I work in the back of Paulina’s Bakery and met Valentine several times, in the bakery and around the market. He said he was a Christian, and he prayed to the One God, Jesus. Twice after I saw him and he said he’d pray for me, I had flashes of sight for a few seconds.”
Surprise and awe flickered across the faces in the room. No one moved. Iris continued the story, her pulse gradually slowing. When she mentioned Valentine singing as she and her father had gone to the prison, the three brothers exchanged amused looks and even Beatrix cracked a smile.
Iris kept on, fighting the quavering in her voice. “I—I begged Valentine to pray for me, and he did.”
“And?” Marius’s wife breathed.
Iris’s lips trembled as she gave a little laugh. “I can see.”
Beatrix pressed a hand over her mouth, tears rolling unchecked down her cheeks.
Marius’s wife nodded, closing her eyes, and Marius bellowed, “God be praised!”
“He spoke with us all night,” Pater said. “He told us about Jesus, who died for the sins of everyone... and we believed.”
Their reaction to this news was even greater than when they’d heard of her miraculous healing. Beatrix leaned over the arm of her chair and threw her arms around Iris as the family erupted with strange murmurs of “Thank You, Father,” and “Hallelujah,” and “Amen!”
The immensity of the gift this strange God had bestowed floodedIris anew with awe. Sight, love, forgiveness, acceptance. She looked to her pater and saw the same reflected in his face. How could these people, strangers only minutes before, accept them so readily, so joyously? She’d never known familial love from anyone other than her pater, or Titus. She marveled at the warmth of Martha’s and Beatrix’s hugs, basked in the feeling for a fleeting moment before realizing it would not last. It could not. Not once they found out the rest.
When the room settled, Beatrix asked the dreaded question. “How did Valens come to be in the carcer?”
Iris’s stomach dropped as Pater sucked in a breath and swallowed so loudly it could be heard across the room.
“I received orders to arrest him.” He spoke in a low voice, staring at his lap.
“Has he been in the carcer all this time?” Beatrix asked, leaning toward Pater. “I’ve been so worried. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Pater twisted his hands in his lap. “I couldn’t reveal it. Couldn’t put his name on the records.”
“Why?” This came from the man who appeared to be the oldest of the three brothers. He might have been thirty, olive-skinned with a head full of longish black curls that hung to his sharp chin. He had scratches on his arms and looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.
“My son Cato, the physician.” Marius introduced him again.
