From the Dark to the Dawn by Alicia A Willis

Author:Alicia A Willis [Willis, Alicia A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Seasons of His-Story Publishing
Published: 2014-07-01T04:00:00+00:00

Long after the others had gone, Marcus stood at the casement in Daniel’s home. The dark street beyond the bakery was quiet and still. Still, he looked out, his eyes overcast and somber.

You have provided for now, Father. But what future will I have? I am a patrician. My place is in the senate, in the law courts of Rome. How shall I obtain my career without an inheritance, without money?

Without warning, Marcus felt a presence behind him. Turning, he saw Philip behind him, waiting subserviently for his master to notice him. “Well?”

“Do I disturb you, my lord?”

“No.” Marcus leaned against the casement frame, loosening his cloak. “What do you want?”

“It is late, my lord. Do you not wish to retire?”

Marcus rubbed a hand across his forehead. “I have not thought of the time. My mind is too occupied for rest, I fear.”

Philip seemed to hesitate. Marcus gestured to him. “You may speak.”

“I only desire to say I sympathize for you during this time of trial, Marcus. You feel your father’s callousness keenly, I think.”

“I do.” Marcus looked past Philip. It felt awkward, discussing his problems with his slave. Still, he sensed the burning need to communicate with someone. Someone who cared. “I am his only son. And, while we’ve never been very close, I do respect and love him.”

There was a moment of silence.

Philip raised his eyes with the same expression of hesitant respect. “He is watching, Marcus. He will not leave you destitute.”

Marcus smiled a little bitterly. “Your wish to comfort me is admirable, Philip, but I think you are mistaken. Jehovah sent this trial as a punishment.”

“I do not understand.”

Marcus settled himself more comfortably, hoping to give a casual appearance he did not feel. “He is the Divine Judge, is He not? And no holy God would watch His devout servants be killed and flogged without punishing the author of that suffering.”

“Jehovah is not vindictive.” Philip’s tone was indignant. “You are His child, Marcus. The things you have done are removed as far as the east is from the west. I have told you so before.”

Marcus surveyed him contemplatively. Christian though he was, Philip’s spirit could still rile with fervent heat. It was amusing in a way.

And presumptuous.

“Don’t argue with me, Philip. Christian or heathen, I am still your master.”

Marcus saw the burning color flood Philip’s cheeks, crimsoning his British-white skin from chin to forehead. He averted his gaze, reverting to subservience.

“My apologies, my lord.”

“I didn’t mean you were to be formal.” Marcus’s voice softened. For the first time, it hurt him to see a slave cringe under his rebuke. He owed Philip more than he could comprehend. “I only think you are mistaken.”

Philip raised his eyes. “Perhaps I am. But I only meant to remind you that Christ has called you to life, not condemnation.”

“Truth. And it does not truly matter which of us is correct. God has seen fit to send me this trial, and I will bear it manfully. If all I have been told is true, there is a good purpose for it.

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