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greatly. His last
speech to the priests was so full of passion and truth that they
couldn’t bear it—they were beside themselves with rage. His father
said that he barely seemed to feel the stones, and he died quickly.
He saw Jesus…before he died.”
    Paulus’ eyes went to hers and she went on,
“They said his face shone like that of an angel, and—he looked up
into the sky and cried out that he saw Jesus standing at the right
hand of God. Then, as they were stoning him, he asked God
to—forgive them—and he died.”
    Her husband did not speak, and she didn’t
look at him. “Do you remember what we heard—about the man who
seemed to be in charge that day? A man who was rounding up
believers and having them executed? He has been converted, Paulus.
Not long after Stephen’s death. And he has become a great
teacher.”
    “Yes,” Paulus answered. “His name is
Saul.”
    “I heard that he has changed his name to
Paul.”
    “What does Peter think of him?”
    “He is convinced of his sincerity. He says
that he believes Paul will one day surpass anyone preaching the
word of God.”
    “Perhaps he will come to Rome. We need him. I
can tell others about Jesus…I can share what I know and answer
questions, but I’m no preacher. I feel, Alysia, that we are just
laying the groundwork for someone else. And I feel—honored—to do
so.”
    This time she laid her hand over his. “And I
feel honored to do so, with you.”
    * * *
    The woman stood confidently in front of a
great bronze mirror hanging on the wall. She studied her reflection
with pride, noting the cool beauty of her face, the pale and
unlined skin rare for a woman two score years of age. She no longer
dyed her hair red; its natural color was an ash blonde, lacking the
warm, golden tones of…Selena’s, for instance. It added to a certain
look of coldness, and diminished the sheen of her topaz-colored
eyes.
    Her features were somewhat less firm and
chiseled than they had once been, but this was their only
concession to age. Her cheekbones stood out prominently and a
stubborn chin had become softer and more rounded. These slight
changes, combined with her cool blonde hair, made her appearance
markedly different from what it had once been. She felt safe now to
venture farther and farther from the city that had become her
home.
    In fact, this time she would travel quite
some distance; she dreaded the voyage but it would only last a few
days. Then, to fulfill her purpose—oh, it would be worth it! Worth
any amount of risk and discomfort to see their faces when they
realized what had happened…not to mention the monetary gain that
had become a pressing necessity.
    They would be ruined. She alone had the power
to put them in their place, to speak the damaging, damning truth,
to let people know what they really were. Oh, yes, it would be a
scandal. Not by Rome’s standards, but by theirs .
     
     
     
    CHAPTER III
     
    In order to accommodate his favorite horse,
Caligula had completely refurbished the imperial stable. Incitatus
occupied a stall sheathed in ivory, and his eating trough was made
of gold. Fresh hay was laid upon the floor every hour, and
groomsmen hovered over him anxiously day and night lest he catch
cold or become injured somehow, for they knew such a catastrophe
would cost them their heads…if not first their limbs and major
organs.
    Petronius found it humiliating (as he was
expected to) that Caligula had summoned him to the stable, and in
the middle of the night at that. Why not to the palace court, or
even a reception hall, as befitted the captain of the night
watchmen? His boots clinked as he walked across the marble floor,
escorted by a Praetorian as if he himself were suspect! Torches
flared on every wall, making the entire, ridiculous structure seem
to be on fire. He spotted the emperor far down the corridor,
standing outside a stall and apparently talking to its occupant. As
he drew closer he thought, What in the name of Aphroditus is