Page 55 of Of Love and Treason
Not ever? Iris rubbed her arms. Not even when imprisoned? Or sentenced to labor in a sweltering quarry? Or forced to be a tribune’s mistress?
As if in answer, the singing continued.
“Even though the earth be removed,
And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea...
Though the mountains shake with its swelling.”
Iris hoped this god was worth the singer’s bravery—worth the riskshetook. Her heart beat like the drums leading an emperor’s procession, urging her on, yet she froze, listening. The prisoner kept singing about a god. One seated far above the glory of the skies. A god who looked down on the heavens and the earth. So the Christian god was higher than all the gods on Mount Olympus.
Her legs shook as she started down the steps, her fingers trailing on the damp stone wall, feeling every ripple of the ancient Etruscan chisels that carved out a living tomb long before the Romans settled here. Her feet quivered as she searched and stepped. The sulfur stench of the sewer burned her nose. She’d been in here with Titus as a child, but never since the accident.
The words of the song poured over her with a strange warmth.
“Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations;
I will be exalted in the earth!
The Lord of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our refuge.”
The song ended just as Iris reached the bottom of the steps. She stopped when it did. The singing did not resume. Pater paused behind her.
Her mouth went dry. What if the Christian refused to pray? What if he prayed and nothing happened? If a god was not powerful enough to keep this devotee out of prison, how could he be powerful enough to restore her sight? This was a mistake. Iris turned, her mouth opening to tell Pater she’d changed her mind.
Another voice spoke before she did. Mild. Clear.Familiar.
“Iris?”
She swung her face toward him, the hairs on her arms standing on end. “Valentine?” Her heart dropped. It wasn’t possible.
All three were talking at once.
“What are you doing here?”
“Pater, you said you didn’t know where Beatrix’s nephew was.”
“Youknowhim?”
“You’ve seen my aunt? Is she all right?”
“She’s well. She’s worried.” Iris took a step toward Valentine.
“This was a bad idea.” Pater took her arm. “We’re leaving.”
She pulled back. “We can’t go now—you promised, and you...” She fought her voice into a whisper though it did not mask the accusation in her tone. “You arrested him and lied about it.” Iris turned her face toward Valentine. “Why are you here?”
“Not attending sacrifices,” Pater supplied. “Leading illegal gatherings, practice of unsanctioned religion.”
A rustle of straw and clinking chains sounded from the far wall as Valentine shifted. She wondered how he’d been secured. His voice sounded low to the ground. Upside-down perhaps? Lying flat so the rats could crawl over him at will? Pater had talked about rats getting in through the sewer grate every now and then. She shuddered, pulling her palla tighter around her shoulders.
“We came so I could talk to a Christian.” She took two steps toward Valentine. “I didn’t know it would beyou.”
“Well.” He sighed. “Here I am.”
