Valentine began to strum the instrument, drowning out her thoughts with a tune that was both lilting and mournful. She suddenly missed her old harp and wished she hadn’t traded it for yarn. Not that the yarn had done her any good. The tribune owned everything now. Her stomach turned at the thought of him rummaging through the remnants of her old life, deciding what he could sell and what was trash. She focused her attention on Valentine instead.
His dark hair had dried, the front standing up in charming rebellion, and he needed to shave. Even beneath the darkness of the stubble she could tell his chin was bruised. The cut was bleeding again. His eyes closed, a pinch of concentration between his brows as his blunt fingers combed with surprising grace over the strings that were not completely in tune.
Then he began to sing.
She’d heard him sing before, in the prison as she made her way toward him to beg him to pray for her. It seemed a lifetime ago. This time, his voice was quiet, as if he hadn’t meant to start but couldn’t help it. Then it grew louder as he lost himself in the music. It was a song of lament. A cry to God for help that shifted into a call to remember God’s faithfulness.
Faithful. Yes, He was indeed. Iris’s mind ran with the faithfulness,the goodness God had shown in the short time she’d believed—and even in the times before.
Slowly, without her really noticing at first, a calm smoothed the tightness in her belly, the lines of worry on her brow. She shut her eyes, her own silent praise echoing Valentine’s.
“Thank you,” she whispered when he finished. She wiped a hand across her jaw. After the music, the silence was deafening. “That was beautiful.”
His eyes flung open, as if he’d forgotten she was still in the room. He squinted suspiciously. “No one’s ever said that before.”
Footsteps padded across the tile behind them, and a hand reached out of the dimness and snatched the lute from Valentine’s grasp.
“Seriously, Val, if Rue wakes up with night terrors after that, you can put her back to bed,” Cato growled, then noticed Iris on the other couch. “Oh, sorry.” His eyes flicked from Valentine to Iris and back again, widening. “I didn’t know... you two...” He cleared his throat. “I’ll just go then. But I’m taking this with me. You shouldn’t subject Iris to this kind of torture.”
“It was beautiful.” Iris twisted around to look at him.
Cato’s eyebrows shot up.“Beautiful?”He turned to Valentine. Iris felt her neck heat and glanced at Valentine, who was looking at Cato with tight lips and a quick shake of his head.
Cato wiped the grin from his face. “That’s wonderful.” He held up the lute. “But I’m still taking this. Good night.”
“You’re not coming back?” Valentine waved at the table. “There’s calda.”
Cato hesitated, then shook his head. “Putting eight children to bed wears a man out. Delphine and I are turning in. You two carry on. Good night.” He hurried back to the door, closing it behind him, but not before Iris heard Delphine’s muffled voice in the hall, raised in question.
Valentine let out a long breath. They sat in silence for a moment; then he reached for the tray.
“How are you?” His voice was low as he lifted and turned the jars, reading the labels.
“I’m worried for him.” The peace she’d felt moments ago began to recede as she voiced her anxieties. “You all keep telling me to trust God and have faith, but I don’t know what that means or how to do it like all of you. I’m afraid you’ll be ashamed of my weakness—but Iamafraid and confused.” She paused. “How can God do the impossible and restore my sight, yet He cannot keep Pater from being arrested? I know He is good, but I thought He would protect us.”
There. It was out. The whole ugly truth. She couldn’t meet his gaze.
Valentine held a jar in each hand, looking at the labels and not at her. His thick eyebrows pressed low over his eyes in concentration. “That is one of the most difficult things to understand. Many in this household have asked the same question, and I don’t know the answer myself.” He paused. “Peppermint or chamomile?”
She shrugged. Valentine returned one canister to the tray and opened the other, dropping pinches of dried daisylike flowers into two clay cups.
“Cato and Delphine had six children.” He spoke in a near whisper.
Iris drew in a breath but didn’t say anything as she waited for him to continue.
“Two, they lost at birth; one boy lived a few months... and then there was Peter.”
Affection softened his voice as he spoke the name. He lifted the jug of hot water and poured a measure into each cup, his lips lifting in a smile of reminiscence. “Peter was...” He shook his head. “Full of mischief. He was Cato’s shadow and a much better physician’s aide at seven than I could ever hope to be.” He held out a steaming cup and Iris accepted it, leaning over to inhale the sweet scent.
“What happened?”
Valentine settled back onto his couch, shifting his shoulders so he could see her. “He was playing in the road with some friends, like he did nearly every evening. Out of nowhere a chariot came racing up the street—the horses were out of control or the driver was being careless—no one ever found him. The other boys got out of the way in time, thankfully. But not Peter.” Valentine’s eyes skittered backand forth across the room and grew shiny. “One of the boys said he tripped and fell.” He shook his head and made a snorting noise, dashing the back of one hand across his cheek as he looked away. “He didn’t last the night.”
“I’m so sorry.” Iris touched her lips with her fingertips, stomach clenching at the heartbreak this family had faced not once, but four times. She didn’t like where this conversation had gone. Did God not watch over His devoted ones? Had Delphine and Cato not prayed enough? Had Marius and Martha’s faith been too weak? Somehow, she doubted that.
“Why does He answer some prayers and not others?”
Valentine shook his head. “I don’t know.” He took a sip from his cup and gave a painful hiss before resting it back on his knee. “But I do know that this world is bent toward destruction and moved by forces we cannot see. Evil that tries to destroy our faith in God’s goodness by delivering senseless acts of pain.”
