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a protective half circle in front of Paulina.
    Paulina gasped in relief when the contraction passed. The exertion had flushed her face and drenched it with sweat.
    “Stand aside,” he ordered. “I will speak with my wife.”
    The three women, dark-haired and dusky-skinned like their sister, all wore identical frowns.
    “Leave,” the eldest said. She’d never respected Aristarchus and had no compunction about showing her scorn now. “Men have no part in this. Ever.”
    Aristarchus opened his fist and dangled from his fingers a thin silver chain. A small silver cross hung at the end. “She will answer me this. I demand to know if what I’ve just heard is true.”
    “My sister,” the eldest said, teeth clenched, “has been in difficult labor since last night. Wait until tomorrow. Better yet, wait until she has fully recovered. This is her time for a child not for an argument.”
    Paulina moaned as a new contraction gained strength.
    The midwife rushed to her and mopped the sweat from her brow. With surprising gentleness, the midwife murmured, “One more contraction is one closer to bringing you a beautiful baby. Don’t be afraid to push, my child.”
    Aristarchus opened his mouth to argue, but as Paulina began to scream again, he realized his efforts would be wasted.
    When the contraction finally passed, he did not hesitate to continue. “Is she part of this cult?” he demanded, shaking the chain and the cross. “Is she one who shares the blood?”
    The sisters closed ranks, and Aristarchus shoved them aside to shout into Paulina’s face. “Are you? Is what I’ve discovered today about your secret faith true?”
    Paulina was panting, exhausted, yet the light in her eyes was strong. “I am,” she said simply.
    “That Jew slave servant of yours, Sophia—she has corrupted you, hasn’t she?”
    “By leading me to the living Christos she has led me to a great peace. She—”
    “She will no longer be part of this household. Now renounce Christos. Here and now in front of witnesses. It is not too late to save my reputation and the position that supports your family. Renounce your faith!”
    Paulina’s face tightened. “I cannot,” she whispered. “The Christos is my Savior.”
    “No! I preside at a temple where Nero is worshiped as almighty savior. Do you want to destroy my livelihood?”
    Paulina could not answer as the contraction overwhelmed her. While he continued to screech at her, she began to moan.

    “You’re one of them, are you?” At the main gates of the amphitheater, a short guard with a powerful build leered at Leah. “You don’t look it, but I’ve learned never to judge by appearances.”
    “One of them?” Leah asked. She could not guess at what the guard meant by “appearances.” Leah was young, just at the age of marriage. She’d dressed plainly, covering most of her long dark hair. She knew men looked at her with desire but never felt that she was attractive enough to deserve their attention.
    “Don’t play stupid with me. You love to see their fear, don’t you?” The guard took from her the bribe he had demanded earlier and jabbed a thumb in the direction of the chaos behind him.
    On the ground level of the amphitheater, twenty or thirty people jostled toward the opening where prisoners were forced out onto the sand. The sunlight pierced the opening and clearly showed the lustful joy on the men and women jeering at a new group of men passing by on their way to death.
    One of them.
    Leah could not comprehend why the Romans enjoyed the death cries rising from the arena let alone understand the pleasure Nero himself took in all his public perversion and his imaginative manners of torture. A Jew born in Rome—the Jewish community was strong and large and vibrant—Leah had managed to avoid even being near any of the games that took place when politicians needed to placate the mobs with entertainment.
    One of them.
    Those in the small crowd ahead taunted the prisoners.