The Consul's Daughter

By C. Lynn Biccum

Diana, a young Christian woman living during the time of Nero, is thrust into a web of intrigue after her settlement is destroyed by Roman soldiers. The biggest problem? Diana is also a Roman, the daughter of a former Consul. She must hide her past, as well as her feelings, as she tries to figure out who to trust and how to stay alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. Lynn Biccum
• Release date: Nov 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310870262

C. Lynn Biccum

C. Lynn Biccum grew up outside Buffalo, NY and joined the Air Force right after college. As an active duty musician her career has taken her all across this great country. Currently she lives in Wisconsin with her husband and three goofy dogs.

Book preview

Preface

He was leaving the Senate building when he saw her. She was beautiful, more so than any Roman woman in all her paint had ever looked to him. He slowed as he passed her by. She was a slave that much was certain. Her drab brown dress and lack of an escort was proof of her status. Clinging to her basket, she knelt, rushing to replace all the fruit that had scattered on the shiny marble floor. The other people passing by took no notice of her, nor did they stop to help.

He stood watching her for a moment as she gracefully scooped up the scattered fruit. The curve of her neck, her long, slender fingers…he was entranced. He noticed that she had missed one. It had rolled away from her and was waiting expectantly only a few steps from where he was standing. He frowned, knowing what he wanted to do and knowing that it was completely against social code. He slowly stepped toward the fruit, then knelt down and picked up the pomegranate. He stood and turned it over in his hands, still pondering the wisdom of what he was about to do, and then walked over to where she was kneeling. Holding it out to her, he said, Here. My apologies for whoever caused you this trouble.

She snapped her head up, curly tendrils of dark hair falling into her face. He caught a glimpse of her large brown eyes as she pushed her hair out of the way and stood, keeping her head down. Consul! I, that is…my lord, it was my own clumsiness. I am so sorry. I will be out of here momentarily.

She had seen him there before while running errands. He was tall, with the perfect Roman nose and strong chin that made women swoon. His hair was a sandy brown color and his eyes were a bright green hue that begged you to keep looking at them. Most of the women, including those she served, gossiped about why he was still unmarried. Being a house slave meant she was always overhearing their prattling, whether she meant to or not. She never listened to their theories, choosing instead to believe that there were some Roman men who had standards; and who were not willing to just marry any pretty woman that was thrown in their path, or meddle with the helpless female slaves. It was hard for her to afford any Roman that sort of credit, but for some reason she wanted to believe it was true of him.

All of this flashed through her mind as she waited in his presence. She was flustered by his attention. No one of his rank had ever addressed her so kindly before; and naturally she could never tell him that she was picking up fruit because one of the Senators had come flying past her, knocking her and the basket to the ground. Why is he being so nice to me? she wondered. Why did he even stop? No one else did.

He cocked his head to the side, his curiosity piqued. She certainly did not speak like a slave. Please, what is your name? he asked. Still looking at the floor, she responded, Sarah, handmaid to Julia, Consul Vicerus’ wife.

He nodded and she continued to stare at the floor. Vicerus, she thought distastefully. A cruel, selfish man who only cares about his own comfort. Vicerus can’t be trusted to care for a dog properly, much less slaves.

Glancing up briefly, she saw that he was smiling. Quickly she shifted her attention back down to the floor.

Well Sarah, you have done well in your trip to the market. I am fairly certain that Julia could use some more fruits, and fewer sweet breads, in her diet.

Did he really just say that? Slowly looking up at him she saw that he was smirking. She allowed the corners of her mouth to turn upward ever so slightly in response. It is true, Julia is quite fat…which is why Vicerus prefers his female slaves to his wife.

That’s better. Now, please allow me to escort you back. He held out his hand to her, never thinking that she would refuse it. Her eyes flew open. Oh no, that is not necessary. You are a Consul of Rome…

Indeed I am, he replied. And rarely have I encountered a slave with so great a vocabulary, or such great beauty. Immediately her eyes grew wide and flashed with fear. So that is what he wants, she thought bitterly. They are all the same. Seeing the change in her eyes he instantly regretted saying anything about her beauty. He reached out to touch her arm.

No, please do not misunderstand me. I do not intend to harm you in any way, he tried to assure her. She was looking at his hand resting on her forearm. He could tell she was not convinced. He had listened to Vicerus on more than one occasion boasting of his conquests, both inside and outside of his household. In Vicerus’ mind any slave in his charge was fair game. He also knew that Julia turned a blind eye to Vicerus’ philandering in order to preserve her social status as the wife of a Consul. If she ever tried to force Vicerus to be faithful to her, he would divorce her immediately. He felt angry, and protective. In that moment he wanted to punish every Roman who had ever taken liberties with a female slave. Banishing the image of Vicerus attacking Sarah from his mind he quickly snatched his hand back. She still looked at her arm, as if even just his hand resting there had been painful to her.

Perhaps I could walk you just as far as the temple of Diana? he suggested gently. We could stop and offer some fruit to her at the altar. This seemed to unnerve her even more than the thought of being physically assaulted. She shook her head vigorously.

No sir, please, I cannot do that. I must be going. Julia will be wondering where I am. Whisking her basket off the ground she began walking quickly away. Please don’t follow me! Please let me go! Wait! he called. She stopped and waited, her shoulders hunched over, a look of resignation on her face. He caught up to her asking, What is it about Diana’s temple that upset you so much? He stood in front of her, awaiting her response. If I tell him he will surely throw me in jail, she thought. And yet I must obey. She was shaking, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her eyes downcast she replied, Consul, I cannot offer sacrifices to Diana. I am a follower of Christ. He was taken aback. Surely he had misheard her. A follower of Christ? Didn’t she realize that for simply uttering those words he could have her killed? Yet there she stood, trembling, obviously scared, but still brave enough to claim Christ in the face of death. He wondered who else had heard her make that declaration. Furtively he looked around, but still no one had taken any notice of their conversation. He took a deep breath.

Sarah, you know that for telling me this, you are putting yourself in danger. Serious danger, he said quietly. She nodded slowly, a single tear running down her cheek. Jail can be no worse than Vicerus’ pawing hands on me every night. It would be a welcome change. I have never met a single Roman who would die for their gods, he said, shaking his head. Yet you stand here, facing certain punishment, and have not even tried to run away from me.

There is nowhere for me to run, sir, she replied resignedly. You know who owns me; you would find me and I would be punished. Better to stand here and face death bravely than run away like a coward. He saw that her life in Vicerus’ house must indeed be intolerable if she was so ready to die instead. Do all followers of Christ welcome death as readily as you do? he asked. She lifted her face to him, her eyes blazing with defiant fearlessness. You can have my body, but you can never have my soul, she said forcefully. That is the source of a Christian’s strength. Do what you must. I promise to harbor you no ill will.

What is Christ compared to Apollo, or Romulus? Surely there is no great difference? She made no response and he suddenly felt a great desire to know the reason for her unshakable confidence. Sarah…would you…could you tell me more of this Christ?

What did he just ask? He is not throwing me in jail? Slowly she searched his face. He saw that she was conflicted. She had no reason to trust him and he knew she was probably still worried that his intentions were not honorable. He vowed at that moment to remove every female slave from Vicerus’ house if it was the last thing he ever did. I promise, I will tell no one. Not Julia or Consul Vicerus, he added. I will vouch for your whereabouts, should anyone ask. I will not put you in danger. We can even go to Diana’s temple, just to talk. That is certainly somewhere that no one would question you going to. And we will be outside, in a public place, which will assure you of your own safety. She pursed her lips and nodded slowly. He might still be lying, but there is nothing else I can do. She knew she had to obey the Consul, no matter what his motives might be. She could only hope that he was telling her the truth. He looks earnest enough. Perhaps all will be well. All right, she said. We will go to Diana’s temple and I will tell you what you wish to know.

CHAPTER ONE: Seventeen Years Later

The fire and the heat; I will never forget it. I had gone to sleep only a few hours earlier. My father had kissed the top of my head and said a prayer with me before retreating to his own room. My mother had died giving me life and my father had always been very protective of me. I had fallen blissfully asleep, safe and happy. Our settlement had done well for almost three years and we had no reason to think anything bad was on the horizon. I was so wrong. I only wish I had been able to save everyone.

The yelling of the Roman soldiers as they crashed through the door and the screams of the people they were killing jolted me out of my slumber. I woke as smoke filled my nostrils. I began coughing and then the smoke hit my eyes and they began to water and burn. I stumbled out of my bed, trying to get my bearings. Feeling along the wall to the doorway I found my way outside where I could hear my father yelling for me. I tried to walk in the direction of his voice but I stepped on shards of broken pottery and tripped on chairs that had been knocked over. I finally got outside, following the sound of my father’s voice. I tried to see through the haze, yelling back that I was all right. I could barely see anything. People were running everywhere; it was total chaos.

Suddenly the smoke cleared just enough for me to see my father from a short distance. I began to make my way over to him, carefully stepping through the debris, when I saw a Roman soldier coming up behind my father.

Father! I screamed, pointing. He looked at me, and it was as if everything slowed down. Time did not exist. I was in a dream. I yelled again, and he turned to see the soldier behind him, but it was too late. Raising his sword high above his head, the Roman brought it down and plunged it deeply into my father’s chest. I screamed as my father staggered to the ground, his face twisting with pain. I knew then that he was dead. Seeking leverage the soldier stepped on him with one foot as he yanked out his sword. Blood dripped off the blade as he stood there, surveying his work. I was in shock, just staring at my father’s lifeless body. I looked from him to the soldier, who had just taken notice of my presence. Appraising me with an up and down glance, he sneered at me and said, I’ll have some fun with you first. I looked at him in disbelief. I should just let him kill me, I thought. My whole family is dead now, I have nothing left. Time returned to normal. Everything sped up again, and I was running.

I had no idea where I was going. I just ran, faster than I had ever run before, trying to get away from the smell of death and the vision of my murdered father. The screams became fainter as I escaped what had been my home down the alleys of the town. After a few minutes I stopped to catch my breath. When I looked behind me but didn’t see anyone, I felt momentary relief. Perhaps the soldier has decided I am more trouble than I am worth. I still saw his face, his blood soaked sword and the ravenous look in his eyes when he spoke to me. I shuddered. Stop thinking about it and keep moving! I told myself. Roman soldiers are not known for giving up easily. If I had any chance of escape it was to keep going, farther and farther away from the settlement. I fought back tears as I thought about my father not having a proper burial, his body laying out in the rubble for days, possibly weeks. I knew that his soul was safe but that didn’t make the state of his body any easier to bear. All those people, I thought miserably. Has anyone else escaped? I considered going back to see if there were any survivors, but I knew the Romans would make sure anyone who had survived would be killed, sold as slaves, or taken to the Circus. I felt sick at the thought that any of the young women who survived would most likely be assaulted by the soldiers. Death would be merciful compared to that. I can’t go back. I have to keep moving.

As the sun rose in the sky I stopped briefly to drink some water from a sparkling creek. My stomach rumbled and I searched out some berries to eat then kept going. My feet began to ache and my gaze darted about in every direction, on the lookout for Roman soldiers. When night fell I succumbed to weariness, crawled into the tall grass and fell asleep. When the sun rose again I forced myself to get up and continue walking. Surely there would be a town…or maybe some nice people to help me…I just had to try. I was hungry and thirsty but none of that seemed to matter. Father would want me to stay alive. That was the thought that kept me going. I don’t remember how far I traveled before I collapsed on the road side. Hours passed or maybe days. People passed me by, or perhaps I just imagined them. Drifting in and out of consciousness I dreamt that I could feel myself being lifted up by someone and put on the back of a donkey. Everything was a blur. I heard concerned voices, but I didn’t care anymore what happened to me. That Roman soldier hadn’t just killed my father; he had also killed something in me. Whatever flash of self preservation it was that had made me run for my life had been extinguished. I was alone in the world, completely, utterly alone.

Four days later…

Mother! Mother, she’s awake!

I slowly opened my eyes and then things came into focus. I found myself looking into the excited face of a friendly looking young girl. She had large brown eyes and an open, kind expression. The girl said, Hello! My name is Orah. You’ve been asleep a long time. Want something to eat? Or do you want to see my new doll? I haven’t named her yet, you can help me pick a name. I can get her for you.

Immediately a woman yelled out, Orah! Leave her be. She needs to rest. And you have chores to do, young lady. The girl made a face but obeyed her mother, leaving to do her chores. I tried to sit up and was promptly pushed back by the woman who had come into the room.

You need to rest a little more before you get up. I won’t pester you with questions right now. Just know that you are safe. My name is Amira, and my husband is Eli. You’ve met our daughter Orah. We will take care of you. Handing me a bowl of dates she asked, What is your name, child? I swallowed. Should I tell her my real name, or masquerade as someone else? I thought better of trying to spin an elaborate tale and answered honestly. Diana, I said weakly. Amira stiffened slightly. She looked at me through narrowed eyes and a suspicious expression. And you are…a Roman? she asked.

I shuddered. No. I mean, I am half Roman.

I see. Amira looked at me uncertainly. Well as I said I won’t pester you. Rest now.

Wait! I called out as she walked away. She turned and came back to my bedside.

Yes? she asked.

How long…where did you find me? I asked, feeling as though I had been asleep for months. Amira furrowed her eyebrows. We found you four days ago, on the road side near Colosse, she answered. At first we thought you were dead, but Eli checked and said you were breathing. We couldn’t leave you there. The roads are not safe, especially for young women. I knew then that my ears must have been playing tricks on me.

Colosse? I asked. But Colosse is nearly twenty miles from… I trailed off, realizing how far I had walked. No wonder I was weak, sick with exhaustion and hunger. I had wandered so far on my own that I had collapsed. From where, child? asked Amira.

Nowhere. I’m sorry. I think I’m still confused. You were right, I need to rest. I don’t know who these people are, I told myself. There is no need to tell them my entire life story until I know it is safe, and maybe not even then. Yes, I will let you sleep now. With that, she put an extra blanket at the foot of my bed then walked away. I was curious about my new surroundings so I tried to sit up and look around, but I felt exhausted. I lay back on the large pillow as my eyelids drooped and I settled into a deep sleep. The days passed with more sleeping and fogginess. I was remembering a little more each time I woke up of what had happened. The remembrance of the fire and the smoke was the first thing that came to mind. Then there was my father with a sword in his chest. God, let me go back to being asleep so I can forget these painful images! All the pieces were falling back together and I knew that I would have died had it not been for Amira and Eli. God had certainly been looking out for me, to have them find me on that quiet road and take pity on me.

Amira was a very attentive nurse who spoke little. I had never had constant nursing, since I had grown up without a mother, and Amira seemed more than willing to look out for my every comfort. I was thankful for Amira’s reserve. She made good on her promise not to pester me with questions. In fact, after asking my name, she asked me nothing else. Perhaps the pain on my face registered clearly enough for her to keep her questions to herself. She was quiet and kind and always made sure I ate enough, slept enough, and she kept Orah from bothering me. Orah was a bundle of energy and she never tired of talking to me or trying to get me to play with her. But in truth I enjoyed the little girl’s energy and excitableness. It had done wonders for distracting me from the recent devastating events in my life. I was able to get Amira to tell me a little about their life. Eli was a shepherd who had quite a large flock. He also tended to other people’s sheep and goats. As a result there was meat at every evening meal, which I was not used to. It was quite a delicious and almost extravagant situation. Our settlement had done well for itself, but we had never had a constant supply of fresh meat.

I grew stronger with each passing day. I listened for news of my settlement but none ever came. Had the Romans been so savage that no one had dared to even talk about it? Usually by now gossip from the neighboring towns would have spread the report far and wide. I was finally beginning to feel like myself again. I was surprised to find that Amira had sewn me two dresses while I had been recovering. The one I had arrived in was no longer wearable. She had wrapped me in one of her own dresses while I had been recovering. The new dresses were simple but well-made, and I was anxious to try them on.

Here child, I hope they fit you all right. You’re such a small thing…we might need to feed you some more at every meal. Amira handed me the first of the two dresses and I took it eagerly. I waited for her to leave, but she just stood there, looking at me.

Amira? Would you mind if I had some privacy? I asked. She