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About The Saga Begins:
Sixteen year old Tyrus and his family are forced to flee Rome and
the cynical Caesar who blames them for a scandal. They board a ship bound for
the Holy Land, but can they escape the imperial eagle before he swoops down
upon them?
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Here's an excerpt from The Saga Begins:
Circa 3 A.D.
"Tyrus, wake up. " An bleak voice roused him from
sleep as a rough hand patted his shoulder. "Gather your things. It's time
to go."
The urgency in his father’s voice stirred the confusion
already swirling in his groggy mind. "What? Where are we going? Why are we
leaving in the middle of the night?"
"Shhh. There's no time for questions, son. Get moving.
I need your help getting the family together. We must leave quickly."
The light of his father's lamp faded with his footsteps as
he walked out into the large courtyard.
Tyrus rolled out of bed and squinted, willing his eyes to
adjust to the darkness. Gather his things? What things? He didn't even know
where they were going.
He huffed and rubbed his eyes. Blinking hard, he groped
around in the darkness for his olive green tunic. His hand met with a cool,
smooth fabric. That was it. His parents had given him the Asian silk robe along
with his own prayer tallit upon his sixteenth birthday a few months ago. All
his friends had been jealous. Reaching under his bed with his other hand, he
pulled out his leather satchel. He stuffed his silk tunic and other necessary
items inside. What could be wrong? He had just been dreaming about the Priest
that was coming from Jerusalem to teach in their synagogue. How exciting it
would have been to hear from a man who'd actually lived in the Holy City. Why
would father want them to go anywhere at this hour?
Tyrus strapped on his sandals and glanced around the room.
The two other beds still held their young sleepers.
"Tavor, wake up." The form in the bed across from
his rolled over. " Up, I say. Gather a few of your things and meet us in
the courtyard. It's time to go."
"Go?" In a swift movement, the blanket was tossed
aside and Tavor fumbled with his sandals. His little brother always wanted to
go, he didn't care when or where.
"Pack a few things for Tiltan too," Tyrus said as
he bent and scooped up the sleeping form of his littlest brother.
As Tyrus stepped out into the courtyard, His father and
mother were just coming out of their room.
"Scandal? Adamiel, what are you talking about? How
could we be involved in any scandal?"
"This is Caesar we're talking about, Timnah. It doesn't
matter if we're guilty or not. If he feels we have cheated him in any way he
will throw our whole family to the arena beasts."
"I knew we shouldn't have agreed to become one of his
personal merchants. What a disaster. Now we must leave Rome? Husband, we have
nowhere to go."
Their voices quieted when they saw Tyrus crossing the
courtyard towards them.
"We'll discuss this later. We need to get moving."
Shifting the weight of the child still sleeping in his arms
Tyrus asked, "Father, where are we going?"
His father's hand clasped his arm and the reflection of the
dim flame flickered in his dark eyes. "I'm not sure. Away from here.
Somewhere in our homeland. Amongst our own people. Tonight, just do as I
say."
Homeland? Israel? Excitement and fear battled in his chest.
He had always dreamed of going to the Promised Land one day, but the unknown of
what lay ahead vexed him.
Tyrus' mother clutched her husband's arm. "What about
the Menorah and the loom? My mother gave it to me on our wedding day."
"Timnah, I will buy you a
bronze loom from Egypt if you want it. For now, we must go."
"Can we at least take the Mezuzah off the doorpost?
Please, Husband, one thing familiar?" Her soft, golden eyes pleaded with
him.
"Fine. Tyrus, there's a wagon waiting in the stall. Lay
Tiltan down, keeping him asleep if you can, and fetch the Mezuzah from the
doorpost." His father spoke in hushed tones. "Be quick and quiet. We
must leave at once."
Now he knew something was dreadfully wrong. They were
leaving, and they were leaving for good. Was Caesar after them? His stomach
twisted as he crossed the courtyard towards the stable. Something must have
gone amiss with the trade they'd done at the Palace last week.
Tyrus laid his sleeping brother in the wagon that was
already lined with blankets and stroked the donkey's nose.
"What are we into this time, eh Pe'er?"
Tavor appeared and piled several bags into the wagon. Tyrus
slugged his arm. "Go get the Mezuzah off the doorpost. I'm going to check
on Tzivyah."
Tyrus hurried across the courtyard just as his sister came
down the stairs from her room with the baby on her hip. He reached for her arm
to steady her as she descended. Her one good eye was groggy, and he wouldn't
risk letting them fall.
"What's going on, Tyrus?" Tzivyah mumbled.
"Everything's alright. We’re going to visit the
Promised Land.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“Just get into the wagon and you can cuddle with Topaz and
go back to sleep."
He guided the two girls to the wagon and lifted them aboard.
"Are all the children here?" Father appeared with
Mother right behind him.
“Tyrus, Tzivyah, T—T--…” He snapped his fingers several times as if to trigger his memory. “Woman, why did we ever decide to give all our children names that begin with the same letter?”
“Tyrus, Tzivyah, T—T--…” He snapped his fingers several times as if to trigger his memory. “Woman, why did we ever decide to give all our children names that begin with the same letter?”
Mother gave a gentle smile and finished the headcount for
him. “Tavor, Tiltan and Topaz. They’re all here.”
Adamiel pressed his ear against the gate that led to the
main street and held a finger to his lips. He nodded at Tyrus, then with a slow
and cautious hand, opened the stable door and peered down the street.
"It's clear. Tyrus, take the other side of the donkey, and
please children, be quiet."
The soft clip clop of Pe'er's hooves upon the stone street
seemed like thunder that would wake the entire neighborhood as they made their
way out of the capital.
"Once we get out of the city, we can quicken our pace.
Right now stealth is our priority. We'll make our way to Ostia Harbor where one
of our ships will take us to Israel."
Adamiel's whisper paused as they passed a Roman guard post.
Two were stationed there, but whatever their conversation was must have been
more interesting than the cart, because the guards hardly glanced in their
direction.
They passed the pagan temple, its lamps casting an eerie
flicker of light upon the street. Tyrus peered over his shoulder into the bed
of the cart. Most of the children had fallen asleep again, but his mother's
golden eyes gleamed with fear, and it pierced his heart.
"It will be alright, Mother. Think of all the
opportunity that awaits us in our homeland."
She pursed her lips together in what was probably supposed
to be a smile, but said nothing. He knew how she felt. Not having a plan of
action was gnawing at him too.
The hair of his neck stood on end as they approached the
gateway of the city. There was a soldier standing staunch on each side of the
arch, and another group a few paces away.
"We'll just keep moving. There's no reason for them to
stop us."
Father's whisper sounded confident, but the tremor of his
chin betrayed him. A knot formed in Tyrus' stomach. Couldn't they speed up a
little? No, that would look odd. The soldier's conversation quieted. Were they
watching? Don't look at them. Just be natural.
"You there with the cart, halt."
Tyrus held his breath. Footsteps sounded on the cobblestones
as a soldier approached. He turned towards him. The guard looked at the
sleeping children in the cart, then at Father.
"Where are you going?"
"We're on our way to visit some relatives," Father
answered without hesitation.
"In the middle of the night?"
"The sun will be rising soon. We like to get an early
start because of the children." Adamiel thrust a thumb over his shoulder.
"They sleep instead of fidget."
The guard's brow wrinkled. "Aren't you afraid of
traveling in the dark?"
"On Roman roads? Oh, no. We have complete confidence in
the Roman road system and security. Unless you feel there is a risk, in which
case we would be happy to have an escort."
The soldier was silent for a moment as he glanced at his
comrades. "That won't be necessary.
Very well, you may proceed."
Adamiel nodded and tugged on Pe'er's reins.
"Wait."
Tyrus' stomach leapt to his throat. Breathe. He tried to
slow his heart rate.
A centurion approached them. He lifted one of the blankets
and examined the cart."You brought very little for traveling with a large
family. Where is your destination?"
"We're visiting wealthy relatives near Ostia. If we
travel light, they give more gifts." Father winked at the guard. His
Jewish tongue always had an answer.
"Really? Who are they? I know Ostia well. I was raised
there."
Tyrus' pulse thundered in his ears. Father had done it this
time. His salesman tongue had trapped him in a corner.
"You probably wouldn't know them, they're from Cyrene,
but they currently live near the port because they do a lot of business out of
there."
"By what name?"
"Malcus Didymus and his son Simeon."
The centurion's eyes narrowed to thin slits. The flicker of
torches gleamed on his brass helmet. "Never heard of them."
*****
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