Roman Flames

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Hebrew

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Hebrew

Vespera

In the six months that followed after Sanctius left, the initial pain numbed. But I had become some sort of pariah. None of Ignatius’s friends flirted with me anymore, no one asked Father for my hand in marriage, no one so much as looked at me—save lecherous men who would throw coins at me in the street and make obscene gestures. I ignored them and instead searched the temples for guidance. However, it seemed that even the gods had turned their backs on me. I couldn’t become a priestess because I was supposedly “unclean,” so the priests and priestesses wouldn’t even touch me. Becoming a priestess myself was out of the question.

I had passed my eighteenth birthday feeling blasé and bored. I sat in my room, staring out the window with my chin in my hand, until there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” I muttered.

“Vespera.” It was Ignatius, and he sounded disappointed to see me alone.

“Hello,” I said, turning from my seat at the window and gazed at him. He looked sad and defeated upon finding me.

“Vespera, it’s your birthday.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I replied.

“Vespera,” Ignatius begged, “don’t be that way. Come on. Where’s my happy baby sister?”

“Ignatius, I’m not in the mood,” I said. He came over to me and sat on my bed, placing his hand on my knee.

“Tell me why you’re upset.”

I bit my lip, feeling my eyes well up with tears. “I’m sick of being treated like I’m worthless.” I had a welt on my arm where a man had thrown a coin too hard.

“Look at me.” He lifted my chin so I was forced to look in his warm brown eyes. “You ignore them, alright? And the next time there is an incident, they can answer to me. But you’ve been heartsick since you came home after the…the play incident.”

I sighed. “I cared about him.”

“He was just a man. You can meet others.”

I shook my head. “I don’t mean it like that. He was actually a friend to me. He listened to me without judgment and he cared for me too. An innocent man like him deserves safety and love. Not persecution. I can only hope that he is safe now.”

“Where is he? Maybe we can—”

“I do not know where he is,” I said coldly.

Ignatius looked down at the ground, seeming like he was piecing together a sentence. “You’ve been quiet about that night. Can I ask you what happened?”

I shook my head. “But I promise that the rumors are not true. I’m a virgin, despite what the graffiti on the baths may say.”

“I know as much, Vespera,” Ignatius stated. “But…something changed you.”

“The good-bye changed me,” I said without missing a beat. He looked at me with the understanding that no one had been able to provide for me for six months, and he swept me up in his arms in an embrace. “I do not care that I lost a lover. I lost a friend.” I let out a sob into his shoulder.

“I understand, Vespera,” he whispered into my hair. “It’s okay, I’m here. Do not keep it in any longer.” He tightened his grip around my waist and rubbed my back, and everything that I had kept in for six months—the sadness, the anger, the feelings towards my worth—came spilling out. I didn’t feel eighteen. I felt eight.