Between Two Seas

By Robert Alan Ward

In ancient times, Melitene is ravaged by violence, poverty, addiction, and unrest. The new governor, Trebonius, is charged by the emperor to bring stability to the island. He seeks the counsel of two leading Melitenians who represent diametrically opposed world views.

Solon is a humble seeker of his Creator. Alacerius believes only in man-made solutions, with himself in charge. Alacerius wins the governor’s favor and begins implementing his program of atheism, the corruption of morals, collectivization, coerced population control, and imprisonment or worse for all who oppose him.

Trebonius sends his seventeen-year-old son, Publius, to live incognito among the people to gauge how Alacerius’s reforms are affecting them. At the school in the main city of Mathos, Publius meets sixteen-year-old Amoenitas and her temperamental younger sister, Eletia. Publius and the two sisters soon find themselves entangled in a labyrinth of murder, deception, intrigue, real and misplaced romance, a prophetic dream about a messenger of hope, and historical events that affect the world to this day.

The players on the world stage have changed with the generations. Science has advanced. But one constant has always remained—the relentless struggle between the kingdom of God and the kingdom of darkness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jan 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781973613275

Robert Alan Ward

As a woman born in post-Holocaust Germany, Margrit is keenly aware of how a burden of guilt and shame can act as a barrier to reconciliation between people groups. Margrit actively builds bridges to Jewish people by guiding them towards the hope found in Jesus the Messiah.

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Copyright © 2018 Robert Alan Ward.

Cover painting and interior illustrations by Joanna Eden Endermann, used by permission.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of historical fiction. With the exception of names and events recorded in the Bible and in other historical records, all other characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue, in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Scripture quotations taken from the New American Standard Bible® (NASB),

Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973,

1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation

Used by permission. www.Lockman.org

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ISBN: 978-1-9736-1326-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-1325-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-1327-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018900281

WestBow Press rev. date: 11/05/2020

Contents

Chapter 1: Elusive Answers

Chapter 2: Walls

Chapter 3: Longings

Chapter 4: The Bell Tower

Chapter 5: The Ring

Chapter 6: Two Men, Two Ways

Chapter 7: Ginger and Butterfly Weed

Chapter 8: Power Games

Chapter 9: House Arrest

Chapter 10: Mutual Rescue

Chapter 11: An Extra Room

Chapter 12: Differing Dreams

Chapter 13: Second Thoughts

Chapter 14: A Lone Voice in the Wilderness

Chapter 15: Panic

Chapter 16: The Temple of the Goddess

Chapter 17: A Foot in the Door

Chapter 18: Gratiana

Chapter 19: Improving the Quality of Life

Chapter 20: Quarantine

Chapter 21: Doctor and Mother

Chapter 22: The Dream

Chapter 23: A Thirsty Crow

Chapter 24: An Easy Mark

Chapter 25: The Emerald Butterfly

Chapter 26: Alone in the World

Chapter 27: A Gift from Above

Chapter 28: Of Inestimable Worth

Chapter 29: Turn of Events

Chapter 30: Philus

Chapter 31: Protocols

Chapter 32: Back from the Dead

Chapter 33: All Sense of Reason

Chapter 34: Intoxicated Vision

Chapter 35: Twins

Chapter 36: The Baby Thief

Chapter 37: In Him We Live and Move

Chapter 38: Ominous Upsurge

Chapter 39: Unexpected Visitor

Chapter 40: A Threat to Melitene

Chapter 41: Binding Hearts

Chapter 42: The Litus Baths

Chapter 43: A Cry in the Darkness

Chapter 44: Acting Propraetor of Melitene

Chapter 45: The Landing

Chapter 46: The Messenger of Hope

Chapter 47: At the Precipice

Chapter 48: Contrasting Responses

Chapter 49: The Splitting of the Rock

Chapter 50: The Message of Hope

Chapter 51: Former Life Complications

Chapter 52: Reclaimed Lives

Chapter 53: An Unsettled Matter

Chapter 54: A Reflection in a Pond

Chapter 55: Malevolent Spirits

Chapter 56: No Happier Day

Chapter 57: Of Sheep and Wolves

Chapter 58: A Flaming Sword

Chapter 59: More than a Sheep Herder

Chapter 60: The Parting

Glossary of Latin

Words and Terms

Preface

In 2003 I was teaching a children’s class of eight and nine-year old children at my church. Try as I might, I could not get the children to pay attention to my nuggets of wisdom. They didn’t seem to know that I possessed a college degree that said I knew how to teach them.

In despair, I went to my three-year-old granddaughter Gloria and told her about their problem. She listened to me sympathetically. I finished my diatribe with these words.

Those children don’t have any attention span, Gloria. Do you know what ‘attention span’ is?

No, she innocently replied.

I explained to her the concept of attention span.

Her exact response. We can listen longer if you tell us a story.

A light went on in me. I prepared a story for the children that would illustrate the next lesson. When I entered the room the next week they were running all over the place. Instead of yelling at them, I calmly sat down and began to tell my story. Within thirty seconds all were seated before me, listening with rapt attention.

Eighteen days after Gloria’s life changing words, she suffered a near fatal drowning accident that left her severely brain-damaged and utterly helpless. It has been a heartrending experience for all of us who love her. We look forward to seeing her whole again, if not in this life, then in heaven. But on the strength of Gloria’s words, I have dedicated the rest of my life to storytelling. For me it has become a major part of fulfilling my place in the Great Commission.

In essence, there are only two religions in this world. One exalts God, while the other amounts to our attempt to glorify ourselves. There is God and there is Satan. There is light and there is darkness. There is salvation by grace through faith in the completed work of Christ and there is our futile attempt to be our own savior—essentially trying to find the cure for death.

The fruits of the former are love, joy, peace, hope, and freedom. People who live in cultures dominated by biblical Christian thought are free to make the most of themselves—to develop into all that God has made them to be. Societies that acknowledge the God of the Bible become relatively stable, safe, free, and prosperous. It is my contention that the biblical Christian worldview is the single most important factor in what made America great.

The loss of the same is what has brought about our decline. Societies that refuse to honor God inevitably become confused, chaotic, crime ridden, impoverished, and tyrannical. People who live in such cultures become suffocated, shiftless, mindless, and malleable, usually ruled by a privileged elite that keeps the masses in check by feeding them with crumbs from their tables.

The inspiration for Between Two Seas came about as a result of my musings on this subject. My daughters Joy and Joanna joined me, along with my wife, Gisela. All helped me with the writing, particularly for the women in the story. Joanna contributed the illustrations and some of the writing. Joy did the editing and helped with many of the plot ideas.

Together we hope that Between Two Seas will be for you a rich reading experience.

1

Elusive Answers

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Heavy mist pelted his face and drenched his hair as Publius Fabianus inhaled the briny sea air at the prow of the Minerva. His feet ached. He had not moved from his perch at the front of the ship for two hours, determined to be the first to sight the island that was to become his home. He ran his fingers slowly along the smooth wooden rail, pausing to trace the shape of several rudely carved letters, the markings of some long-forgotten person who had wished to be remembered. As the double-masted vessel sliced through the choppy waters of the great sea, he stood firmly, feet wide apart to absorb the pitching of the great ship beneath him.

He squinted into the haze and thought that he saw a gray, indistinct mass on the horizon. He blinked and stared, and then was sure. The oppressiveness of the haze could not extinguish the hopeful fire in his heart as he caught sight of the island.

Land, ho! shouted the helmsman from above. Publius smiled. He had seen it first. Melitene.

With the helmsman’s shout other passengers made their way to the rail to catch a welcome glimpse of land. A young girl, no more than eight years old, shrieked joyfully as she half ran, half skipped toward the prow, wanting a peek at the island for herself. Publius beamed as he observed the child’s unabashed delight.

The joys and simplicity of childhood, he thought. Gone forever are those days for me.

Laelia! Come away from the rail! shouted a woman, obviously her mother, a hint of panic in her sharp, high-pitched voice. The girl’s shoulders slumped as she turned obediently and trudged slowly back to a tiny woman whose face was obscured by a dark, hooded robe. The woman grabbed the child’s hand roughly, while Publius caught snatches of her voice admonishing her daughter about the dangers of the rocking ship and the great sea. The child hung her head and turned in a final attempt to see the island before she disappeared below. As the mother followed, Publius noted her slow, stoop-backed walk. He wondered if her back had been damaged from an injury or if the stoop came from some metaphorical burden.

From the time of his childhood Publius had always wondered about people’s stories. He would sit by himself, watching people interact, and make up fantasies in his head about them, one of the many devices that, as an only child, he had invented to entertain himself.

Publius turned again to the island and sighed, wondering when he would get the chance to choose his own life story. At seventeen, he was on the cusp of manhood. Yet his father seemed unable to acknowledge the fact and still made most of his decisions for him. For the past few years he had begged his father to allow him to attend school with other boys his own age. His father had continued to pay private tutors to shape his education, telling him that if he were ever to become a propraetor himself, he needed the most learned teachers possible. He had entertained a hundred imaginary conversations in which he told his father that he did not want to be a propraetor—that governing a people was something of which he was entirely incapable. Dreading his father’s disappointment, he had never had an actual conversation.

During the past few months, without being able to pinpoint any specific event, Publius’ thoughts had turned to more serious, grown-up musings. While he still played the guess the person’s story game to entertain himself, his stories had become less fanciful, more realistic, and melancholier. No longer did he imagine a grizzled stranger to be a foreign king, living incognito among commoners. Now he saw a man who was down on his luck, or who had recently suffered a great loss.

Increased awareness had brought him to the realization that not everyone lived in luxury as he did. Now, when stories of violence and unrest came to his ears, he worried about those involved. No longer was he secure in the feeling of, My father will take care of it. He was sobered by recent awareness of what human beings could do to one another. Continual questions swirled round and round in his head.

How can this world be fixed? Is there a purpose to life? Why can’t we humans ever seem to get things right?

Questions, questions, but never any answers.

* * * * *

Publius studied his father Trebonius, who had just come on deck to observe the island that he was about to govern, unaware of Publius’ presence just a few feet away. While he loved and respected his father, Publius had become convinced that he did not have the answers he was seeking. Trebonius had been the governor of three previous provinces in Publius’ lifetime. He even wondered if his father was in the right profession. Trebonius often spoke to his son about the values of virtue, restraint, and self-discipline, but seemed to have given up on practicing any such semblance in his own life. Publius remembered that his father had once been impressive, not just in the way that every child sees his father, but truly impressive. He had been tall and muscular, with chiseled features and thick dark hair. When Trebonius had entered a room, people took notice. Yet years of indulgent living, fine foods, and flowing wine, mixed with too little exercise had relegated him to mediocrity. Publius blamed the stresses and worries of trying to govern a people for the resigned slump of his father’s shoulders and the deep lines in his face. He now looked much older than his forty-one years. And it wasn’t only Trebonius’ body that that showed wear. His spirit was diminished as well. Idealism had been replaced by resignation.

Publius, who even as a small child had sometimes been allowed to sit in on important meetings, remembered clearly the enthusiasm and zest with which his father had once lived and governed. During his first governorship, Trebonius had tackled every problem with fervor, vowing that he would not rest until he made the province a better place to live. Throughout his childhood, Publius recalled scores of advisors, wise men, and philosophers visiting their home. Trebonius had listened, examined, debated, and implemented changes that he was convinced would fix society’s ills. He was always disappointed when things failed to improve, or worse still, had further deteriorated. Publius vividly remembered the night when he was twelve years old. A messenger had arrived with troubling news for his father. Upon hearing the news, Trebonius sighed, turned to Publius and said, Well my son, that didn’t work. Do you have any great ideas? I only have several terrible ones, from which I must now attempt to pick the least terrible. With that his father resumed pacing the floor, running his hands nervously through his thinning, graying hair.

With each new governorship, the streams of advisors had gradually diminished. The last home they had lived in had been as empty and cold as the marble floors that filled it. His father now seemed reconciled to the fact that he could do little of permanent value anywhere he governed.

* * * * *

As the island of Melitene grew larger, so grew the sense of dread and hopelessness inside Trebonius. He had tried to paint his most recent assignment in a positive light with his wife, Alexandra, and with his son. But in his heart, he knew that this was a demotion, a last chance assignment on an island wrought with disease, poverty, and crime. A broken and run-down propraetor for a broken and run-down people, Trebonius thought bitterly. He wondered if those were truly his own thoughts, or if they were echoes of Alexandra’s acidic words. He could hardly separate the two anymore.

He glanced to his left and noticed Publius standing at the prow, looking away quickly when he saw that his father had spotted him. Trebonius instantly felt a sense of shame at his bitter hopelessness. More than anything else, he had wanted to be successful in life. He had truly wanted to help people live better—and to be better. He had wanted to make the world a better, safer place for his son to live. He still wanted his son to be proud of him.

But repeated failures had sobered his dreams. He looked again at his son, only seventeen. He wanted to keep him innocent and protected forever, but knew that time with him was short. Before he comes of age and leaves home, I wish there were a way to make him proud of me again, as he was in his childhood.

He stared again at the island and willed a surge of pride and determination to well up inside him. He stood straight and squared his shoulders. He would make his son proud of him. He would be a good propraetor. He would bring better to Melitene.

* * * * *

Captain Tertius, a word with you, called Trebonius, trying to summon authority to his voice. Tertius shouted an order to the helmsman above and turned to give the propraetor his full attention. As the captain approached, Trebonius steadied his face in an attempt to ignore the distinctive odors of leather and an unwashed body that preceded the man.

Tertius had spent nearly his entire life on the waters, and looked the part. He was wizened and wiry, and missing several teeth, most likely from brawling, or from battles with pirates. He wore a tattered, tightly fitted leather cap, a few strands of gray hair escaping from beneath it. But whatever he might lack in appearance, it was evident that he knew his business at sea. Trebonius could not help but respect him.

What can you tell me about the island of Melitene and its people—the type of thing I might not have received in my official report?

Well sir, the captain began, wiping his hands on his leather breeches, "the report probably told you that the island is about seventeen miles long and nine miles wide at its widest point. And of course, you know that the main city is called Mathos. It’s about eight miles west of Portus Amplus, where we’ll be landing. As for the people, I think there are maybe three thousand souls that live on the island. They’re friendly enough to me and my crew, and pleasures are cheap. We don’t usually like to stay long, though."

And why is that?

The captain shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how candid he could be with the incoming governor. I don’t really like my men to spend much time ashore on Melitene. You know men at sea. When we put into port they want good food and feminine company, and both are readily available there. But more than one of my men have contracted maladies of a personal and very uncomfortable nature, if you know what I mean, sir.

Trebonius nodded. According to the report there were two brothels in Portus Amplus and one in Mathos. All three were licensed by the empire and regulated, except by the owners.

The captain went on, "And then there is always the chance that island fever might strike, the gods’ way of keeping the population under control, we always say, though nobody really knows what causes it. The last time island fever struck, two of my men, brothers, came down with it. They had gone from Portus Amplus to Mathos to visit an aging uncle. When they returned to the ship two days later, they brought news that island fever had struck in Mathos and that we should put off immediately, which we did. Less than a day out to sea both men began to show the first symptoms of it themselves. A week later we dropped them off at the next port with a widow woman I knew. The next time I was there she informed me that both had died."

The captain was silent for a moment, his head bowed in contemplation. When his head came up again, tears were in his eyes. I watched those young, strong men slowly waste away in front of my eyes. It is a horrible sickness. Since then, I have always tried to spend as little time on Melitene as possible.

Trebonius nodded. These facts and more were all in the report he had received, along with his orders to the island of Melitene. "If you were assigned to be their propraetor, captain, how would you go about governing them?"

Tertius wiped his eyes with his cap and chucked. My guess is that captaining a ship is different than governing a people, sir. Here I deal with crew and passengers. If I don’t like a crewman, I drop him off at the next port. If a crewman doesn’t like me, he quits. But I treat my men right. I pay them a fair wage, and all in all, we get along pretty well. Sometimes we take on passengers I don’t like. He looked tellingly at the hatch that led to his own captain’s quarters. But I only have to put up with them for a few days, and then they’re out of my life.

Trebonius smiled grimly as a knowing look passed between the two men. He still felt embarrassed at how Alexandra had reacted when shown the best quarters on the ship in the passenger hold when they had embarked. The room was adequate, though certainly not luxurious. Alexandra had expressed her displeasure in no uncertain terms. While Trebonius cringed, the captain dutifully offered his own quarters. She instantly accepted and asked the captain to escort her there immediately. The captain’s cabin was small and orderly, if not very clean, and the heavy odor of the captain permeated everything. Alexandra had gagged at the smell, but Trebonius had said, Yes, thank you. This will do nicely for my lovely wife. He gave her a withering look, guided her firmly by the arm into the cabin, and closed her inside. He and Publius shared the other quarters, while the captain bunked with his crew.

Trebonius continued. Unfortunately, I won’t have the luxury of dropping disagreeable people off at the next port. I will have to do my best with what is there. This will be my fourth assignment as a governor and quite honestly, I didn’t want this post. I understand that there is more wrong on Melitene than just disease.

Well, I don’t know, sir. We mostly just put into port and unload passengers and cargo. Then we take on new passengers and cargo. We usually stay less than a day. But if you’re asking my advice, I’d just say listen a lot, not just to the snobby elites, begging your pardon, sir, but as much as you can to the lower classes. I listen to my crew. People like to feel that they’re heard, and that their opinions are important, and sometimes I learn things. But when I act, I act decisively. Danger comes suddenly at sea. My crew knows that my word is law when a quick decision has to be made.

Trebonius nodded, surprised at the sudden feeling of envy that rose in his throat as the captain spoke. Here was a man who knew who he was and whom men willingly followed. He felt the familiar hopelessness fighting to take hold in his heart. He looked again at Publius, who continued to stare at the approaching island.

If only I could be the man I wish I was—someone my son could respect.

Thank you, captain. You have been very helpful.

2

Walls

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Still deep in his thoughts at the prow of the Minerva, Publius felt a strong hand on his right shoulder. Have you been thinking about our conversation?

Publius steeled himself and turned, knowing that the dreaded time had come for him to level with his father. "I have been thinking about a lot of things, father. I have never wanted to disappoint you, but I don’t think I will ever be a propraetor. I am not good at telling others what to do, and I lack the wisdom to know what to tell them anyway."

I know many who think themselves wise, but are fools, answered Trebonius softly. Perhaps realizing that one is not wise is the beginning of wisdom.

He stared out towards the fast approaching island. He had known for a long time that his son did not want to be a governor. And who can blame him, given the experiences he has had? He stood silent for a time, until the keening of a flock of seagulls pierced the air, startling him back to reality.

Very well my son. I do not think that your mother will like it, but I will no longer pressure you to follow in my footsteps. If you will continue your studies with the tutor of my choice until your eighteenth birthday, I will appoint you to some official position at that time.

Publius swallowed, fearful of losing ground if he pressed too hard. Yet he also knew that his courage might flag if he did not speak now.

Thank you, father, but I want to be my own man. Please do not think me ungrateful, but whatever I accomplish in life, I want it to be something I made for myself—not something I was privileged into. I’d rather earn the respect of people than have it handed to me.

Sensing more receptiveness in his father than he had ever before seen, Publius allowed his words to continue unchecked. I want to attend a regular school. I want to sit in a classroom and to have a free and open exchange of ideas with other students who, like me, are full of life’s questions. I want to debate and learn and dream. He trailed off, looking tentatively at his father.

Trebonius turned again toward the sea. Sometimes I envy you, son. If I had my life to do over, I would do a lot of things differently.

Publius was about to press his father further when the hatch leading from below decks suddenly banged open. His mother, pausing for a moment to smooth her hair and to compose her smile, emerged and joined them at the prow. She was heavily perfumed, no doubt to counteract the odor of her room.

The servants have everything ready. I hope you are happy, Trebonius. I will never get this vile stench out of my hair and clothing. But the first thing I am going to do when we get to our new home is try. I do hope the governor’s villa has a bath tub and is up to our standard of living.

I hear it’s adequate, Trebonius replied. Unable to pass on the opportunity for some levity at his wife’s expense, he added. My report states that the previous governor recently installed an outdoor lavatory. There is a hand pump only a short distance from the house, with a two-sided screen so you can wash in semi-privacy. The water is cold, of course, but since the villa is near the highest point of the island, you’ll have a fine view while you bathe.

Alexandra looked darkly at her husband, trying to ascertain whether he was teasing her, or actually stating facts. Publius, who had read the official report for himself, knew that the villa was quite luxurious and actually featured three bathtubs. He did admire his father’s ability to stay composed.

Well, then we shall install a bathtub immediately upon our arrival, Alexandra managed. She took turns glaring at Trebonius and glaring at the island.

Though he had been married to her for almost twenty years, Trebonius was still not immune to Alexandra’s breathtaking beauty. Tall for a woman, she appeared even taller with her long raven hair, with intricately interwoven locks and curls. Her eyes were a deep blue. The combination of blue eyes, black hair, and creamy white skin made her an object of admiration by men wherever she went. She was always perfectly adorned, even on a ship. Over her blue silk full-length tunica, she wore a sleeveless white stola, as did most respectable married women of the empire. Because of the chill in the air, she had also donned a pale silk palla, which fell from her left shoulder and draped under her right arm. An elegant golden fibula in the shape of a peacock glittered at her left shoulder and held the arrangement together.

Trebonius knew that everyone saw Alexandra as the ideal propraetor’s wife. Along with her beauty, she was outwardly gracious and charming to all who entered her home. When she bestowed smiles upon her guests, they felt like they had met a queen. She held elegant dinners, where she played the role of the perfect hostess. All of Trebonius’ friends and colleagues found her to be a most delightful creature. Some too delightful, Trebonius knew.

Yet he also knew her to be ruthlessly cruel, manipulative, and unfeeling. Behind closed doors, her words were often venomous and she ridiculed the very ones she had only just entertained with smiles. The previous year at a celebration in their home, Trebonius had witnessed a depth of cruelty in Alexandra he had not imagined possible. A long-time friend of his had lost his beloved young wife to an illness after five years of marriage. Wrought with loneliness, he had remarried quickly, to a beautiful young woman several classes below himself. The young woman had obviously been schooled in proper etiquette and had so acted, but Alexandra had hovered around her the entire evening, correcting every misstep, real or imagined.

Oh no, dear, you mustn’t speak to the servants, though I suppose you are not used to having servants.

Oh darling, you mustn’t drink the darker wine until after we have eaten the first course. Of course, I should have known you would have preferred beer to wine. Silly me!

She had shown her which utensils to use for the meal, Just in case you aren’t used to dining in such a fine manner.

She had thoroughly humiliated the young wife. With a condescending smile, she had let her know that she would never be acceptable in higher social circles. Trebonius shook his head at the memory. He had said nothing to his wife at the time, seeking to avoid more conflict in an already strained relationship.

Well, said Alexandra, giving one last scornful glance at the island and sniffing imperiously, I will wait in my chamber.

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Alexandra

* * * * *

As the Minerva sailed into Portus Amplus the choppy waters of the great sea turned placid. To his left Publius gazed at the fortress of Aemilianus, named for the great war hero Scipio Aemilianus, who had captured and burned the city of Carthage some two hundred years before, finally ending the Punic wars that had raged for over a century. The fortress, situated at the end of