Alex Kolker Books

         By day, Rome was a mosaic of painted marble and golden sunshine.  But by night, Pia had learned, Rome was an ocean of shadows, broken up by tiny islands of torchlight.

        In the nine months since she had first started sneaking out of the house at night, Pia had learned many things.  She knew, for example, that as long as she stayed in the wealthier neighborhoods, the danger wasn’t criminals but soldiers: if they came across a girl in slave’s clothing wandering these streets, they’d have her in a cell long before she’d ever be able to convince them that she actually belonged there.

        But Pia knew the guards preferred to patrol to the lighted streets at night, and she had learned which streets had the best shadows and shortest lines of sight for the entire route from Marcius’ house to Cyriacus’. She was an old hand at it now; she reached her destination without anyone even catching sight of her.

        For all of her sneaking, Cyriacus was not making any attempt to hide at all.  He stood under the glow of a torch by the front gates of his father’s house, looking bored.  She could see him in profile now, his handsome face half-lit, and his hair cut curly on top and tight around the back in the latest patrician style.  He was exactly the sort of boy Pia had always fantasized about marrying when she was younger, before she learned the sad truth of what marriage meant for the daughters of wealthy and influential men.

        Not only was Cyriacus not hiding, but he wasn’t being watchful either: Pia was within arm’s reach of him before he even realized she was there.  He smiled when he saw her.

        “On time as usual,” he noted.

        “Let’s go then,” Pia returned.

        Cyriacus led them to the Via Claudio, a wide thoroughfare that took them down the slope of the Caelian Hill to the foot of the Colosseum.  There was no longer any need to sneak around.  The guards knew better than to question any patrician young man out on the streets late at night – and they passed quite a few others along the way.  It was different for women, of course, but now that she was walking alongside Cyriacus, having traded her linen stola for one of Hiera’s homespun shifts, she was all but invisible anyway.  Anyone who spotted the pair would just assume that she was Cyriacus’ slave and ignore her completely.

        From the Colosseum, it was a straight shot down the Via Sacra.  There were so many torches lining the avenue that it was almost as bright as day.  The street was flowing with people: merchants and partygoers and beggars and trysters and prostitutes and cutpurses.  The crowd made the two of them less conspicuous, but it also slowed them down.  This part of the journey always made Pia anxious and impatient.

        The Via Sacra opened up, finally, into the Roman Forum – a large, paved, open square nestled among a collection of centuries-old temples.  These ancient buildings loomed high overhead, a little weathered, and many still showing soot stains from the Great Fire six years before.  The Forum had often been the site of official ceremonies and unofficial meetings between factions of the Senate, but after the Fire a lot of this activity moved to Caesar’s Forum to the north, taking the best of the merchants and their customers along with it.  In their place, the Roman Forum now hosted a poorer – and often less reputable – class of politicians, merchants, and customers.  Which, admittedly, is what had drawn Pia to the place on one of her earliest escapes from Marcius’ house.

        Even at this hour, the Forum was milling with people, but they mostly kept to the edges of the square where there were plenty of shadows to hide in and columns to hide behind.  This is where Pia and Cyriacus headed now, to their regular spot along the western wall of the Temple of Castor and Pollux.

        When they got there, though, the only two people waiting were Joshua and Simeon.  “Where is everyb –” Cyriacus began, but as soon as Joshua saw the two of them he charged forward, meeting them halfway, grasping each one by the shoulder.

        “Here at last,” he said.  “Moshe has already gone on ahead with the others.  Come – we have a way to travel yet tonight.”

        “Travel?” Pia asked.

        “No lesson tonight?” Cyriacus added.

        But Joshua had already turned on his heel, and he and Simeon were heading down Tuscan Street away from the Forum.  Pia and Cyriacus had to rush to catch up.  “Not tonight,” Joshua told them.  “There’s something I want the two of you to see.”

        “Where?”

        “One of our sanctuaries,” Joshua answered.

        Pia was thrilled by the news.  For the past two months, Joshua, Simeon, and Moshe had made it clear that none of their group was ready to meet any other members of the flock.  And now to be taken to one of their secret hiding places?  Something must have changed.

        But when he led them both to a small haycart drawn by a single mule, Pia froze in her tracks.  Wherever he wanted to take them, it was out of walking distance.  How far would they be traveling?  Was there any guarantee he’d have them back again in time for Pia to sneak back into the house?  Did he even intend to bring them back at all?

        Pia remembered now what the gossips at the Forum always said: that the Christians were a race of barbarians – ferocious and cruel.  That they made their homes in the crypts of the dead outside the city walls, and at their most sacred rituals they ate human flesh.

        But then she remembered Joshua’s gentle voice, and the amazing stories he always told about Jesus.  Joshua is a man of peace, Pia reminded herself.  He is a man of his word.  Still, her knees trembled a little as she climbed wordlessly into the cart with the others.

        “Is it far?” Cyriacus asked – probably just to break the silence – but Joshua didn’t answer.

        After several minutes of wordless travel, Pia realized with a shock that they were heading north – away from the center of the city altogether.  All her life, Pia had never set foot beyond the Caelian and Palatine Hills, but now they were on the Esquiline and headed directly towards....  The city’s northernmost hills were so alien to her that she couldn’t even come up with their names.

        Marble gave way to stone gave way to wooden structures, some of them slouching forward or to one side as they towered over the street.  It looked as if a single stray coal could set the whole neighborhood ablaze.  Not only had Pia never been to the poor part of the city before, but no one she had ever known had been there either.  There likely wasn’t anyone who knew her for miles in any direction.  If she never made her way home tonight, none of her family – none of her father’s men, nor Marcius’ – would ever find her.

        When she shot a nervous glance over to Cyriacus, though, she found the boy grinning from ear to ear like he was driving a chariot at the Circus Maximus.

        Finally, Simeon brought the cart to a halt – in front of a building that looked like every other building on a street that looked like every other street.  How does anyone here find their own home around here? Pia found herself wondering.

        The wealthy men of Rome built their houses short and wide.  The more space your compound walls enclosed, the higher your status.  Here, the residents had no choice but to build up.  While both her father’s house and Marcius’ were only two stories high, most of the buildings here were three to five stories – and none of them looked strong enough to hold up so much weight.

        Joshua turned and addressed Pia and Cyriacus now, his black eyes blazing.  “I’m putting a lot of trust in the two of you tonight,” he said.  “As far as I know, you’ll be among the first non-believers to ever set foot in this place.”

        “We’re not non-believers –” Cyriacus protested.  But Joshua cut him off mid-sentence.

        “You’ve heard my teachings, Cyriacus, and the tales of the Christ, but neither of you has dedicated your life to the faith yet.”  He paused to study both of the Romans’ faces, his eyes searching.  “Soon, I think, but not yet.  But there’s a visitor here tonight and I want you to hear what she has to say.”

        Without another word, Joshua turned and stepped down from the cart, his robes and long hair swinging wide around him like a cloak.  Simeon followed on his heels and the two men disappeared through one of the identical, nondescript doorways on the left side of the street.

        Pia and Cyriacus paused to exchange glances, but there wasn’t any question that both of them would follow.

        The doorway opened, not into an atrium or even a vestibule, but just a narrow flight of stairs.  Pia had never seen such a thing before, and felt immediately claustrophobic.  Only Cyriacus, pressing eagerly behind her, kept her moving forward.

        She had also never climbed so many stairs at once before.  It was just as exhausting as mounting the stairs at the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus – but whereas that climb felt like an ascent into the heavens, this one felt like a trip down a giant snake’s gullet.

        They passed two landings before exiting the stairway at the third, passing from the narrow stairway to a narrow hallway.  There were people there, waiting, and it was a mixed crowd by the looks of it: mostly Judeans and a handful of Romans, as well as a couple of standouts: a pair of coal-skinned Nubians and a man wearing an Egyptian kilt and beard.  Joshua walked right past them as if they weren’t there, leading his group to a small doorway at the end of the hall.

        The Judean blocking that doorway was as tall and broad as a gladiator, but when he saw Joshua he broke into a friendly smile.  “Glad you could come, brother.”

        The two men clasped each other’s forearms.  “Good to see you too, Isaac.”

        Isaac’s eyes drifted past Joshua and Simeon to Pia and Cyriacus.  “Joshua . . . “ Isaac said in a warning tone.

        “I’ll vouch for them,” Joshua said.  “They’ve both been listening to my testimony for more than a month now.”

        “No outsiders, Joshua.  You know that better than most.”

        Isaac made to take a step forward, but Joshua stopped him with a gentle hand on the man’s forearm.  “They won’t ever get another chance to hear Livia’s tale,” he said.

        Isaac glowered down at Joshua, who met his glare steadily.  The larger man’s face finally softened, and when he turned now to address Pia and Cyriacus, he suddenly looked like a scared little boy.  “These rooms are a meeting place for our sect.  It’s a secret.  There’s good reason for that.  There are still many in the city who blame the Christians for the Great Fire.  And there are Jews – particularly the priests – who would be glad to see our sect wiped out forever.  All the people I love most in this world are behind these doors, and I’ll do whatever I need to keep them safe.”

        “When you allow me to become a member of your flock,” Cyriacus said evenly, “I’ll defend them right alongside you.”

        “We don’t want to hurt anyone,” Pia added.  “We just want to learn more.”

        Isaac exchanged glances with Joshua one more time.  Some silent communication passed between the two of them and then the larger man stepped to one side.  Joshua led them through the door.

        The apartment consisted of a pair of large rooms with a wide doorway between them.  It had obviously been built as a living space, but the only furniture here now were a small table and some benches at the far end and a wooden cabinet behind them.

        More than fifty men, women, and children filled the rest of the space, sitting on the floor together in small groups.  They murmured and whispered to each other excitedly.  The four new arrivals squeezed their way into one of the last available open spaces in one of the back corners.

        “All right,” Cyriacus said, even before they had all settled down, “what’s all the mystery about?”

        Again, Joshua paused before he answered.  It was a habit of his, but this time in particular his face looked grim.  “There’s a woman who just came to Rome.  She is very old.  She is dying.”

        “Livia,” Cyriacus said.

        Joshua nodded.  “As far as anyone knows, she’s the last person still alive who witnessed Christ’s crucifixion.”​​​

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