– chapter xx –

Choices

 

Tiro had arranged for me to stay with Crispus and Marcella. He dropped me off near their house.

‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I’ll be in trouble if the master suddenly decides he needs the carriage.’

He drove off. I realized that he’d taken quite a risk for my sake. And I hadn’t even thanked him properly. I wanted to run after him. But I couldn’t follow him to Lucius’s house. It would only cause more trouble – the master would want to know why Tiro was still friendly with a thief like me.

Never mind; I could talk to him the next time he came to visit Crispus and Marcella. I found my way to their house, where they gave me a warm welcome. After having a good meal, a wash and a change of clothes, I felt almost my old self again.

Apparently, I didn’t look like my old self, though. ‘You’re so thin,’ said Marcella. ‘We must feed you up. And you’ve grown taller, and lost that pale northern look you used to have.’ This was true. The baking heat of the vineyard had tanned my skin as brown as a Roman’s.

‘Do you still plan on returning to Britain?’ Crispus asked.

I nodded. I had talked about this with Tiro on the drive back to Rome. Officially, I was his slave, since he had paid for me. But Tiro had laughed at the idea. ‘What would I want a slave for? I bought you so as to set you free. And I know you’ve always wanted to go home.’

My heart leaped. At once, I started thinking about the journey, making plans.

But now, Marcella was trying to persuade me not to go – or at least, not yet. ‘Winter will soon be here, and no one travels in winter if they can help it. You should stay in Rome for a few months. Start your journey in the spring, when you’re fit and well again.’

‘I want to catch up with my brother,’ I said, although I knew it was unlikely. Conan had left months ago. Where would he be when winter came? Perhaps he would be stuck in the mountains somewhere, or stranded on this side of the sea crossing. Perhaps, if he was very lucky, he would manage to get home.

But what if he reached the place where our village used to be, only to find the Romans had destroyed it? No home, no family, nothing to live on and winter approaching . . . I shivered.

Maybe I should stay in Rome for the winter, as Marcella said. I would have to find work of some kind so that I could pay for my food. I couldn’t live on her kindness all winter.

A few days later, Tiro called round. I thanked him for everything he’d done. Then I asked him a question that had been bothering me. ‘Tiro, where did you get the money to pay Publius? Was it from the Christians?’

‘Some of it was.’

‘Not all? What about the rest?’

He hesitated, then said, ‘The rest was mine.’

‘Do you mean the money you’ve been saving up to buy your own freedom?’

‘Yes.’

‘And how much have you got left?’

‘Nothing,’ he said quietly.

I stared at him. It was an incredible gift. I knew he’d been saving up that money for years – now he would have to start all over again. For my sake, he would have to serve many more years as a slave. He might be an old man before he could be free.

‘Oh, Tiro . . .’ There were no words to thank him enough. For I could see by his face that the choice hadn’t been an easy one.

I couldn’t think of anyone else who would give up so much for me – not even my own brother. Perhaps my father would have loved me enough to do it . . . perhaps not.

‘Tiro, you are better than a father to me,’ I said.

He put his arm around me. ‘And you are like my son . . . like the son that I lost long ago. In years to come, I’ll think of you. My two sons, one in the distant south – if he’s still alive – and one far away to the north.’ He smiled, but his dark eyes were full of sadness.

The next day, I spent a long time thinking. For more than a year I had been longing to go home. A thousand times over, I’d imagined returning to our village and meeting my family again.

But maybe none of them existed any more, except in my memories. Even those memories were growing fainter. I found it hard to picture my sisters’ faces or remember my mother’s voice. Did that mean they were dead? There was no way of finding out without making the long journey home. And that would mean saying goodbye to Tiro.

I felt as if I was being dragged in two directions, like a bone between two dogs. Tiro had given up so much for me. How could I simply leave, disappear from his life, as if I didn’t care what happened to him?

I talked to Crispus and Marcella, who were amazed to hear what Tiro had done. He had kept it secret even from his friends.

Crispus said, ‘He gave up his own chance of freedom so that you could be free?’

‘He was following the master,’ said Marcella. ‘He was being like Jesus, who gave up his life for us.’

‘Yes,’ said Crispus. ‘Love each other as I have loved you. That’s what Jesus told us to do.’

I said, ‘I don’t know how I can ever repay Tiro. I can find work and give him the money I earn, but that won’t be very much. He still won’t be free for ages.’

I was sure that Tiro didn’t expect me to repay him. He had set me free as a gift, asking nothing in return. I could leave Rome for ever, and he wouldn’t try to stop me. And yet . . .

This was hard. I was so used to being ordered about, told what to do and where to go. But now I was free, and I had to make my own choices.

Free – yet not free. I remembered my prayer that night in prison, when I asked God to be my father. A son should obey his father. What would God want me to do?

Love one another as I have loved you . . .

All at once, I made up my mind. I would stay in Rome, find work, and help Tiro save up the price of his freedom. Then he would know that my gratitude was more than empty words.

Maybe one day I could go home. I couldn’t give up the thought of it entirely – but for now my place was in Rome.

* * *

Crispus and Marcella thought my decision was a good one. They told me I could stay with them for as long as I liked.

I asked Crispus what sort of work I might be able to do, explaining that I’d spent some time working in a rich man’s kitchen. He looked thoughtful.

‘How much do you know about baking bread?’

‘I don’t know what goes into it – the cook did all that. But I can knead the dough and shape it all right.’

He said, ‘We could use an assistant in our bakery. My niece used to help out, but she’s just got married. Would you be interested? We can’t pay very much . . .’

‘And it’s hard work at busy times,’ put in Marcella.

I grinned to myself. She didn’t know what hard work meant. This job would be easy compared to life on the farm.

‘Think about it,’ said Crispus. ‘You don’t need to decide right away.’

Another choice to make! Next day, I asked Tiro what he thought. It was the evening when the Christians met together, but Tiro had arrived early.

At first, he didn’t understand me rightly. ‘Work for Crispus and Marcella? You mean, you’re planning to stay in Rome for the winter? That’s good,’ he said.

‘Not just for the winter. I’m going to stay for a long time – until you’re free, Tiro.’

‘That’s even better.’ His smile seemed to light up the room.

‘And everything I earn is yours – I owe you that.’

Tiro began to argue, as I knew he would. So I changed the subject. ‘You haven’t answered my question. What do you think Crispus would be like as a boss?’ As I said it, Crispus walked into the room.

‘Oh, he’d be terrible,’ said Tiro, grinning at his friend. ‘Even worse than Quintus. He’d make you work night and day, and beat you if you complain.’

‘If he does, I can always leave,’ I said. It was an odd feeling. I wasn’t a slave any more. I didn’t have to go on doing work I hated – I could simply walk away from it. Rome was a big place. There would be other jobs I could do.

When I first came to Rome, I hated and feared it. I thought that all Romans were my enemies. But now I was used to the place, and I knew that the Romans, just like my own tribe, were a mixture of good and bad, kindness and cruelty. The city, too, was a mixture, with all its wealth, poverty, grand temples and crowded slums.

I couldn’t say I belonged there, or felt at home. But I did have friends, and I had Tiro, who was almost like family. And I had God as my father – the one true God, the lord of all the earth. If I hadn’t come to Rome, I would never have known him.

Looking back, I saw how much the past year had changed me. I was no longer a frightened child, a captive surrounded by strangers who spoke an unknown language. I’d grown up a lot. I could earn my own living and make my own choices.

And best of all – I was free. My year of slavery was over.