The Reincarnationist

Chapter 19

Julius and Sabina

Rome-391 A.D.

The soldier hit the marble altar with a rod made of wrought iron and smashed it. A shower of fragments hit the floor. One sailed through the air and came down on Julius’s foot, slicing it open. He didn’t notice. His eyes were riveted on the sacrificial stone.

What had stood for thousands of years stood no longer. For a few seconds no one moved. Not the seven soldiers who had charged this temple or the six priests who were now trying to defend it. Everyone was stunned. The nexus of prayer, for hundreds of centuries, was gone. Julius looked at Lucas, the most senior priest, and saw on his face the reality they all had to accept: no place was safe. This was the tenth temple that had been destroyed in the last six weeks.

Behind him, Julius heard loud and raucous laughter. He spun around and jumped the soldier, who, caught off guard, stumbled and fell backward. Another soldier saw what had happened and punched Julius in the face. He fell to his knees in pain so intense it made him vomit, right there in the most holy of places.

Around them shouts of anger rang out. Some men grunted, others groaned, bones broke and cartilage crumbled. Julius tried to clear his head and open his eyes, but he couldn’t. He put his hands up to his face.

His fingers came away wet. He couldn’t see but he knew its slickness, he recognized its sweet scent.

To his left someone screamed, “Get out. Get out now. Haven’t you done enough?”

Taunts from the other side. “Heathens. You will all go to hell.”

Julius tasted blood in his mouth. He rolled away, trying to get to the wall so he could use it to lean against and stand up.

“Where are the temple whores?” one of the soldiers cried out, laughing coarsely.

“The virgin whores. Bring us the virgin whores.”

“Never.”

Julius was surprised that the voice came from him. Surprised that he was on his feet. But despite the throbbing pain, he was. Two soldiers came at Julius at the same time. But he knew if he ducked their fists they would miss him and hit the stone.

They lunged.

Julius dropped to his knees. Above his head, he heard their bones crack and their screams. Taking advantage of the distraction, he charged another intruder from behind and pushed his fingers into his eyes.

Yelling, the soldier spun, finally falling against one of his own who also toppled over, hitting his head on one of the sharp edges of broken marble their mallets had destroyed. With four soldiers down, Julius and the other priests had a chance.

They fought fiercely and won, but when it was over, the floors were a sea of blood and bodies. There was no satisfaction, no sense of calm. There had only been seven of them today. Tomorrow others would come. And after that there would be more. The priests knew they would never win if they tried to fight them one on one. There were thousands on the emperor’s side but only hundreds of defenders.

An hour later, Sabina bathed and bandaged his wounds. This was allowed-for her to go to him and administer healing salves. What wasn’t was the secret that she still kept hidden under her robes. She had taken to wearing a cloak now all the time so no one noticed the small bulge, but how much longer would that work?

They’d met so infrequently in the woods, they’d been able to figure out that she was ten weeks pregnant now, and her fate tortured him. He had pledged himself to her and vowed he’d save her and their unborn child even if it meant dying in the process. The bandaging finished, Sabina gave Julius a brew of herbs to help relieve the pain.

“Maybe you should brew some for yourself,” he said suggestively as he handed her the empty cup. “It’s still early, they’re very effective at this stage, aren’t they?”

They both had been so careful. Like all women of Rome, Sabina knew how to avoid the times of the month when she was most fertile and conception most likely to occur. Plus there were the unguents and washes that she used right after they were together. But sometimes precautions failed. Then, for the wealthy who jealously guarded their estates, not always wanting to share holdings with too many offspring, or the poor who often simply couldn’t afford to feed too many mouths, or unhappily married women who wanted divorces, not children, there were alternatives: either a drink made from a distillation of herbs or surgery. Although Julius and Sabina lived in an era when termination of pregnancy was without stigma, not only allowed but in certain circumstances encouraged, she wouldn’t consider it.

“No. Our baby has to be born, Julius. Through her we’ll always be together.”

“You’re wrong. The baby will only ensure we’ll both be killed. What if we can’t convince the priests and nuns that the laws are outdated? I know we’ve all been talking about making changes, but what if no one is ready by the time we are? What if I can’t save you? Do you know what it will be like to suffocate, slowly, gasping for air? You can’t die. Not over a child that isn’t born yet.”

“There are other laws, too, that matter. Laws of nature.”

“You might be committing suicide by keeping this baby, Sabina,” he whispered, lest anyone outside hear them.

She shook her head and put her finger on his mouth, preventing him from saying anything else.