Shades of Surrender Read Online Free PDF Page B

until she could get back on her feet. He had seen the wariness in her eyes.
    His gaze traveled the lengths of yarn hanging from his rafters. Each skein had been wrapped to perfection by Ruth’s fine hands. The laughter and companionship they’d shared echoed in the quiet of the neat and tidy rows. He would never forget that brief moment of sheer joy that had passed between them as snails slid down the slope of her nose.
    He lifted the dripping batting from the vat and held it up to the light. Adding a tinge of red to the snail liquor had created a clotted-blood color. This piece of raw wool would cure to the perfect shade of imperial purple and fulfill the emperor’s order. Caecilianus draped the fleece over the drying rack.
    At the washbasin, he scrubbed dye from his beard, then attacked the madder-root stains on his arms with more than the usual vigor.
    “You the fellow that pulled me out of the smoke?”
    Caecilianus wheeled to find Metras standing at his door, leaning on the new cane a carpenter friend had whittled and secretly delivered just a day ago. “Good to see you up and around, Metras. We’ve all been worried.”
    “You talkin’ about you and your Christian friends?”
    “Yes.”
    The old man gave a little grudging nod. “They’ve been almost as good to me as Ruth has been.”
    Ruth’s name sank like a stone in Caecilianus’s stomach. “What you did for those women can never be fully repaid.”
    “You did the same for me.” Metras dragged his bandaged hand over his beard. “I’m hopin’ to square the debt.”
    “You don’t owe me anything, Metras.”
    “Maybe not, but I owe Ruth. And I’ve seen how her eyes mist up when she talks about you.”
    Caecilianus felt his heart stutter. “She talks about me?” He offered Metras a seat.
    “I’m thinking that girl’s worth charging into the flames again if need be.”
    “She’s a fine woman.” Caecilianus shook his head. “But she’s made her choice clear.”
    “Look, I had to sneak out before first light to come here. Soldiers are poking around. Asking questions. Lookin’ for someone to blame.” Metras put his cane between his knees and dragged his tongue over his cracked lips. “They can’t abide arsonists. If there had been a breeze that day this city wouldn’t be here. It’s only a matter of time before they find her.” He pointed his cane at Caecilianus. “You going to help her or not?”

9
    C AECILIANUS RAN A COMB through his unruly hair and wiry beard. He changed his tunic so that the purple stains would not give him away. His chest throbbed like someone was using a snail hammer to crack him open. Purposely choosing to go before the proconsul of Carthage was never a good decision . . . especially for a Christian. Everyone knew how Aspasius despised those who did not pay tribute to the temple gods. Caecilianus tightened his sash. If his plan to save Ruth did not go well, she would not be the only one facing arena lions.
    The moment the fleece was no longer damp to the touch, Caecilianus folded it carefully and slid the dark batting, along with his hesitation, inside a small Turkmen bag. He prayed the proconsul’s pride and love of luxury outweighed his devotion to the emperor.
    Pink streaks of light were barely peeking over the horizon, and already the avenues were jammed with thousands of spectators loaded down with picnic baskets, skins of new wine, and handheld fans made of parchment or ostrich feathers.
    Game day at the Colosseum.
    Caecilianus held tightly to his bag and fell in with the sea of people heading toward the Travertine arches of the amphitheater. Vendors of roasted meats and souvenir carvings of the gladiator favorites had claimed the prime locations days in advance. Brightly colored banners fluttered from their booths along with flowery promises of the best prices to be found at the games.
    Exotic-animal dealers arrived with carts pulled by long-tusked elephants. In their iron-barred cages, lions, tigers,