The Last Disciple by Sigmund Brouwer Read Free Book Online

hair had not been completely trimmed, nor had all the makeup been applied. “Something I ate disagrees with me,” he said as he left the room and closed the door.
    That should have alarmed them. Men like Helius rarely explained themselves to people like them.
    Helius found a couple of soldiers down the hallway. “In my chamber,” he told them, “you will find a man, a woman, and a boy. I overheard them discussing a way to murder me.”
    Both soldiers straightened. When slaves spoke of murdering their masters . . .
    “Yes,” Helius said. “Go in there and cut off their tongues. Immediately. Then drag them to the Tiber and behead them and dispose of their bodies. Say nothing of this to anyone. Especially not to Nero. If he believes there is another plot brewing within the palace, no one will be safe.”
    The soldiers saluted.
    The last plot against Nero had resulted in a six-month indiscriminate bloodbath.
    “It will be done,” the first one said.
    “Good,” Helius answered. “Very good. Remember, if I hear any rumors about this, I’ll know who is responsible. And then Tigellinus will see to it that you are punished in the same manner.”
    “It will be done immediately,” the second soldier stressed. “And we will say nothing.”
    They turned and half walked, half sprinted toward Helius’s chamber and the slave and the woman and the boy who were unaware of how soon and how cruelly their lives were about to end.
    Helius let out a sigh.
    This, at least, would ensure no one else knew about the scroll. He’d find Tigellinus in the garden, and they would plan a course of action.
    Helius touched his face. He did not anticipate this matter would delay whatever fun Nero had planned for them. Helius hoped that enough of his makeup had been applied so he would look decent for the evening’s festivities.
    But first he needed to speak to Tigellinus.

    In the courtyard, Aristarchus reached for his daughter. His firstborn. The baby he had decided to kill by exposure.
    “No,” Paulina wailed.
    “It is my right as father,” he said. “You cannot stop me.”
    Her sisters could not go to her defense. They knew the father’s place in his household. He could deny the right of the newborn child to be reared. He could choose to sell, kill, or expose the child. And if he chose exposure, he could leave the baby outside the house or in a public place.
    “Please,” Paulina said. Exhausted as she was, desperation gave her strength. “Let me keep my child!”
    Aristarchus smiled his satisfaction, thinking that perhaps the gods had favored him by bringing to his attention his wife’s secret faith this very afternoon.
    “Perhaps I will let you rear it.” He paused.
    The baby’s suckling broke the brief moment of silence.
    “Renounce this Christos,” he said. “And the baby will live.”
    “I cannot.” Paulina began to weep. “He gave His life to spare mine.”
    “Then the baby is exposed. Tonight. In the public square outside the temple of Caesar. Beneath divine Nero’s statue. That will let all of Smyrna know that I honor Caesar despite my wife’s foolishness.”
    Paulina tried to speak but could not through her broken sobs. She clutched the baby with one arm and stroked her head with her other hand.
    “You are all witnesses,” Aristarchus said, arms crossed. “Tell all who will listen. I give this baby as a sign of my allegiance to the divine Caesar.”
    “No! No!” Paulina managed to cry out again through her sobs.
    “One last chance,” Aristarchus said. “Will you renounce Christos?”
    Paulina clutched the baby tighter.
    “Trouble!” the midwife said. “She is . . .”
    The midwife pointed. Beneath the birthing chair, blood was pooling in a dark, obscene circle.
    The sisters hurried to find sheets to stem the hemorrhaging.
    “What do you answer?” Aristarchus demanded of Paulina.
    She was incapable of answering. She was slumped over the baby, unconscious, her arms still holding her