Category:

PART ONE

'"One gives freely, yet grows all the richer; another withholds what he should give, and only suffers want. Whoever brings blessing will be enriched, and one who waters will himself be watered."'

PROVERBS 11:24 - 25

CHAPTER ONE 

LYCIAN COAST 27 

APRILIS, AD 310

Seawater closed over her head with a roar of bubbles in her ears. Twenty-year-old Demitria closed her eyes, body relaxing, heart slowing as the stone tied around her ankle pulled her to the depths of the Mediterranean.

The rush in her ears quieted to a dull hum, punctuated by the familiar clicks and burbles of the underwater world. She opened her eyes. Sunlight poured in brilliant shifting shafts through the cerulean water, illuminating the rainbow of coral and plants studding the rocky seafloor, fast coming into clear view. She scanned the bottom, eye snagging on a flash of red in the shadow of an outcropping. The coral stretched from the seabed like an arm, fingers splayed, reaching toward the light above.

As the stone hit the bottom in a cloud of pale sand, Demi slipped her foot from the loop in the twine and kicked toward the coral, scanning the bottom as she swam. Air bubbled out between her lips.

She wiggled the little iron hammer from the mesh bag tied around her waist, fighting to stay near the seafloor as she made her way toward the coral. Prized for its mythical powers of protection and healing, and for the way the blood-red color didn't fade to white when harvested and cut into beads, a piece of coral this size might have fed her family for months. Too bad Mersad, self-proclaimed jeweler of the seas and their controlling employer, would get the lion's share of the profits.

Remorse flickered through her as she smashed the hammer against the coral, red fingers snapping free. Fish scattered from the destruction in flashes of silver and yellow. Demi tucked the coral into the bag and paused to run her fingers over the jagged space scarring the reef. What a waste. To destroy something so beautiful for the vanity of red jewelry. At least Mersad used divers to harvest only the red coral, instead of dredging the seafloor with weighted beams and destroying entire coral beds like other harvesters. Even so, she much preferred oyster hunting to coral collecting. Though not always reliable for pearls, at least oysters served the dual purpose of filling their bellies.

Curious fish darted around her legs, fins whispering against her skin.

A large shadow flickered over her. She looked up to see her brother, Theseus, swimming for the place where the reef swelled upward in a near vertical wall. Only a year younger, his strokes were sure, strong, and so much like their father's.

How had three years passed since Pater, Mitera, and Hediste had been so violently taken from them? Three years since she and Theseus had filled Pater's place as Mersad's best divers—for quarter pay. Not that either of them would dare complain. They were among the lucky few Christians to have jobs.

Lucky. A strange word to use in these times.

Six and a half years ago, after a seer had accused Christians of interfering in her attempts to read the future for Emperor Diocletian, the emperor had passed a series of edicts and demanded the other three rulers of the Roman tetrarchy enforce them in their own regions. The first edict had removed Christians from the military and public office; the second called for the imprisonment of church leaders and the burning of Christian literature and Scripture. The latest edicts had mandated all citizens of the empire to burn incense to the emperor and the chief god of the empire, the Sol Invictus. In return for declaring the emperor as lord, they'd receive a libelli token which enabled them to work, buy, and sell. Living without a libelli was difficult, and in some regions violently prohibited. Thousands upon thousands had lost their lives refusing to utter the words "Kyrios Caesar." Caesar is lord.

Demi's lungs began to burn, and not from the lack of oxygen. Without libelli, she and Theseus shouldn't be able to hold jobs, but Mersad was no fool. He'd employed their father and knew they were the best divers in Myra and Andriake. He'd never asked to see their libelli, and if he suspected their beliefs, he kept it to himself. But he paid them less and less each season, as if he knew they wouldn't dare complain.