The Secret Tomb

By Sophie de Mullenheim

The Secret Tomb: The fifth book of the Shadows of Rome series.

This book finds Titus hunting Christians and trying to discover the body of Peter.

Meanwhile, his friend Maximus must find Peter's tomb before it is destroyed.

The quest tests their loyalties. Will their friendship survive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781639670178

Book preview

Prologue

Rome, one night in A.D. 258

The man stared at the sky, carefully studying the movement of the clouds. At last, he raised his hand. That was the signal.

A long, dark cloud had just moved across the moon, plunging the site into darkness. The moonlight would remain hidden for a short time.

The man stepped from his hiding place, followed by two other men. Their joints cracked as they stood up. Their muscles were cramped. They had been holed up in their hiding place for almost two hours, waiting for the right moment.

We have to act fast, he warned. If the wind rises, the cloud will pass quickly.

The three men moved noiselessly out into the night. They knew exactly where they were going. They had been staking out the site for several days now.

There it is, the first man whispered, spotting the little stone pile.

He showed the two others where to dig. As they set to work, he spread out a magnificent red cloth woven with gold threads. It belonged to a wealthy senator, one of their group, who had insisted on offering it for the occasion. It was his way of contributing to the project.

The men dug faster, all three of them now, careful not to make the slightest noise. If they were discovered, their lives would be in great danger.

Suddenly, one man motioned for the others to stop. They all froze and strained to hear.

There! he said, pointing into the shadows.

The three scanned the darkness, trying to see what lay hidden in the night. Shovels suspended at their sides, they stood on the lookout when a slight noise made them jump. Hearts pounding, they held fast to their tools. If there was the slightest doubt, they would make a run for it.

Suddenly, a figure emerged, barely perceptible in the darkness... A dog! A stray dog! The men gave a sigh of relief and set back to work.

The cloud slowly drifted away from the moon just as their metal shovels struck something. They squatted down and frantically clawed at the earth with their fingertips. Within seconds, they pulled the first bone out of the hole they had dug... and then another. The man leading the little group began reverently placing the bones, one after the other, on the red-and-gold fabric. It was a painstaking operation. They had to make sure they didn’t miss anything.

That’s everything, whispered one of the men, leaning over the hole.

But where’s the skull? asked the leader with astonishment. You haven’t handed me the skull yet!

The two others looked at each other blankly. Each thought the other had found it, but both shook their heads. The skull remained to be found. They plunged their hands back into the earth. At that moment, there was a break in the cloud and moonlight flooded the field with a gentle white light.

Keep looking! the leader ordered, aware of the danger. We can’t stop now!

The three men feverishly searched the ground with their fingertips. The skull, the skull! We must find it! they all thought, in a panic.

I’ve got it! one of them at last cried in triumph as his fingers touched a smooth, curved, cold object.

He reverently pulled out the skull and placed it on the cloth. A sense of relief flooded the three men.

But now they had to hurry. The moonlight was growing brighter, and if they were caught, it would be a disaster. The leader tightly rolled up the bones in the cloth so they would be easier to carry. He worked quickly but with profound respect for the precious items. Meanwhile, the other two refilled the hole with dirt. Then the men separated, each one going his own way to avoid attracting attention. As they went, each of them pitched his shovel into the bushes.

We’ll meet up again back there, said the leader.

I

A Big Announcement

Rome, 45 years later in A.D. 303

Well? So, what’s this big news? Maximus asked on arriving at his friend Titus’ house.

Titus gave him a coy look, enjoying the effect his invitation was having.

Well, just imagine, I’m going to—

He paused and looked at Maximus, who hung on his every word. It must be said, Titus had done all he could to arouse his friend’s curiosity. For three days now, he had been telling him over and over that he would soon have big news to announce. Maximus had imagined all sorts of possibilities. He and Titus had been friends for so long now that they knew each other down to the fingertips, and Maximus was a bit annoyed that he hadn’t been able to figure out Titus’ secret.

Next to them, Aghiles, Maximus’ slave, watched with amusement. He knew Maximus’ lively, impatient character. Titus’ delaying tactic was driving the boy crazy. Aghiles knew Titus was a smooth talker, and he had a flair for the dramatic as well. Despite his efforts to create suspense, his news might be nothing special after all. But Aghiles was curious to know what it was all about.

I’m going to...

Titus looked at Maximus, wrinkled his nose and paused again.

I don’t know if I should...

Oh, just get on with it, Titus! Maximus exclaimed with exasperation. Stop teasing us! You know you’ll tell me in the end!

Titus pretended to think about it a bit more before he at last spilled it out: "I’m about to take the toga virilis."¹

Maximus’ jaw dropped in surprise. Aghiles, too, had expected anything but that.

"The toga virilis?" Maximus repeated, thinking perhaps he had misunderstood.

Titus gave a broad smile, delighted with the effect of his surprise.

"Yes, my toga virilis! he crowed proudly. Isn’t that great?"

Absolutely astonishing... replied Maximus. In fact, this announcement put his nose out of joint. He was the older of the two, even though he was smaller, for Maximus was quite small and delicate for his age. By rights, it should be he who received his toga virilis before his friend. It was an important rite of passage. The day a boy took the toga virilis, he officially became a citizen, a man in the eyes of Rome. Of course, he remained under the authority of his father, but he was more or less an adult, and considered so by others. It was a real mark of recognition that Maximus had hoped to receive before his friend. Coming in second after Titus, Maximus would not feel the same special something about reaching that milestone.

In Rome, the taking of the toga virilis happened when a boy was between fourteen and seventeen. And Titus had only just celebrated his fifteenth birthday.

It’s my father who decided the ceremony should take place, Titus explained, puffing up his chest. He clearly has decided I’m ready.

There was such a note of pride in Titus’ voice that Maximus felt stung. His own father hadn’t yet even suggested it.

Congratulations, Titus! cried Aghiles, while watching Maximus out of the corner of his eye. He knew what Maximus must be thinking.

Thank you, Aghiles! I hope that you’ll come to the celebration, replied Titus. Aghiles couldn’t speak in Maximus’ place. It wasn’t up to him to decide; he had no rights in the matter. He stared intensely at Maximus, his eyes begging him to respond. Under Aghiles’ disapproving look, Maximus forgot his wounded pride.

Of course, we’ll come! cried Maximus, feigning delight. We’ll be the first ones there! He was forcing himself to show happiness for his friend, but seeing Titus’ smiling face brought him back to reason. He had no right to be jealous. It wasn’t Titus’ fault if Maximus’ own father still hadn’t suggested that he take the toga virilis.

When is it? asked Maximus, giving his full attention to his friend.

In two weeks. In the meantime, there’s much to prepare. You know my father: he isn’t one to skimp on a celebration.

Titus’ father, Flavius Octavius, was a rich dealer in wild animals. His business was thriving, and his reputation extended well beyond Rome. His animals were reputed to be more beautiful and impressive than those of any of his few rivals. When the emperor wished to put on a spectacle with rhinoceroses or buffalos, he would turn to Flavius Octavius. When a rich senator wanted to offer his wife a rare bird or a giraffe, he would visit Flavius Octavius. There was no order too extravagant for Titus’ father to fulfill. To keep up his stock of wild beasts, Flavius Octavius organized regular expeditions in which he would most often personally take part. He would then care for his animals with almost motherly love. Several times, he had even taken an animal back from a customer when he wasn’t satisfied it was getting good care.

To celebrate his son’s taking of the toga, no expense would be too great for Flavius Octavius, especially since Titus was his only son.

"The toga virilis, mused Maximus, staring into the distance. That’s amazing."

Titus picked up on his friend’s melancholy tone and at last realized what he must be feeling. He suddenly felt guilty for having made such a big song and dance about his announcement over the past few days.

Oh, you know, he said, now trying to play it down, it won’t really change life much!

Who knows... Maximus wondered, deep in thought.

1. The toga virilis was the clothing worn by an adult male citizen of Rome.

II

A Fateful Night

Two weeks later

As he arrived close to his house, Proculus began to breathe more easily. The dim light coming from the little side street reassured him. He felt more relaxed. Just a few more steps and he would be safe back at home.

Once a week, Proculus gathered with his little Christian community to pray and to share the Eucharist. The meeting day was never the same, and it was always held in a different place. They had to be careful not to arouse the curiosity of neighbors or to raise suspicions. Proculus went on his own, in secret. He would tell his wife and children that he had to stay late in the shop to do his accounts. And to friends who sometimes invited him over on those days, he would explain he was spending the evening with his wife. Until now, everyone had believed him. No one even thought of doubting him.

Proculus was always anxious when he went out. He feared coming across a police patrol, of being denounced, followed, arrested. Like most of his fellow Christians, he lived in fear, and yet he continued to attend their weekly meetings. It was there he drew strength, the strength needed to bolster his faith in Jesus Christ, who had transformed his life.

Proculus had found Christ by pure chance. You might even say that faith had literally fallen into his lap. One day he had been sorting out his goods in a little courtyard at the back of his shop when a young boy came tumbling down on him from the roof, almost knocking him out.

Help me! In the name of Christ, help! the boy murmured just before falling between bales of cotton.

The next moment, a man in a helmet appeared at the roof’s edge. Where’s he gone? he shouted.

Still a bit stunned, Proculus raised his head and looked up at the soldier, wondering what could be going on. Sorry, what did you say?

That boy, where’s he gone? the soldier shouted again, this time in a threatening voice.

He jumped down into the courtyard and looked all around him. The soldier was stocky, with broad shoulders. His dark eyes were covered by bushy black eyebrows that practically joined in the middle. He had a prominent square-lined jaw. That boy—where did he go? the man barked for the third time.

Instinctively, Proculus pointed to the street with a disgruntled look. He almost knocked me out. He went that way.

The soldier’s lip curled into a nasty sneer. He rushed out to the street with a smug growl.

You’re welcome..., Proculus murmured sarcastically between clenched teeth.

After an anxious wait, once he was sure the soldier wasn’t coming back, Proculus pulled away the bales of cotton and gave a long hard look at the boy hiding within. The boy’s eyes glowed with gratitude. He got up and, without a word, gave Proculus a big hug and then ran off. Some gestures speak louder than words, and that embrace stunned Proculus.

That very night he dreamed of a dark-haired, infinitely good young man with a smiling face who hugged him warmly and whispered, What you do for the least among my brethren, you do for me. A few months later, Proculus became a Christian.

Proculus had just reached his front door when a shadow rose up behind him.

Good evening, Proculus...

Proculus’ blood froze.

You’re home late.

The light in the little lane was dim, and Proculus struggled to make out