Madison Esshaki

My eyes snap open to familiar darkness. I reach for my husband’s hand, but cannot find it.

“Alcimus?” I whisper, sitting up as panic fills my body. The baby in my womb kicks, reminding me that I am not alone.

Reminding me that this has happened before.

I rub my eyes and rise from my bed, willing my racing heart to calm. Rushing to the corner of our underground shelter, my hands frantically search through the darkness for the pile of my husband’s belongings. I feel the rough fabric of his regular tunic and boots, but his old soldier’s uniform is missing.

Alcimus has left again, and he is in disguise.

Lord, protect him, I pray, letting out a shaky sigh and falling to the ground. 

Alcimus used to work for the Roman military, and was as loyal to the Empire as any good soldier was expected to be. But that, my husband says, was in his old life. He refuses to bow down to the emperor now.

Since Nero rose to power, Christians like us have been persecuted and massacred in brutal ways by the Emperor’s order. Rumors have spread of brave men and women who have proclaimed their faith to Rome’s ruler, only to be thrown into the lethal ring of the Colosseum and mauled to death by beasts. And even those who simply wish to pray in peace are being taken as prisoners and murdered; people who haven’t even approached the emperor or said a word against him.

 And it hasn’t only been Nero’s doing. Horror stories of the ways common soldiers mocked and tortured our brothers and sisters in Christ led Alcimus to secretly withdraw from the army and retreat into hiding with me and our unborn child. He dug us this shelter, deep beneath the earth in the outskirts of Rome, attempting to hide from the hostile eyes of the Roman Guards. 

My husband knows better than anyone what the Romans are capable of doing. And yet, lately, he’s been putting himself at risk. Every few nights he dresses in his old uniform, climbs to the above ground and returns later with food or clothing or supplies from the city.

“In preparation for the baby,” he assured me when I questioned him. “I won’t allow my little family to starve.”

Alcimus says he is careful, and that God protects him. But I know my husband, and I know that even he is fearful for what the soldiers might do if he is caught.

Sitting on the dirt floor, I twist and braid my hair in anxiousness. I’m not sure when Alcimus left, or when he will return. Time passes slowly whenever he is gone, and today is no different. My heart pounds in my ears. Every slight noise feels like a great echo, and even the faint kicking of my baby is enough to make me jump. 

Hours pass, and still no sign of Alcimus. I light a candle and say more prayers for his return. Watching as the flame dances before me, I wonder if the Father is watching, too.

Suddenly, the pounding of footsteps above me sends searing terror through my veins. I throw myself into a corner—just as Alcimus taught me—and wait. 

Holding my breath, I listen. 

After a moment, three taps ring through the shelter, and I know it is safe to breathe again. Relief floods over me.

My husband is back.

I rise from the floor with a smile as Alcimus removes the stone that conceals our refuge and climbs down. 

“Alcimus,” I begin, rushing to embrace him. But I stop in my tracks as he whips around, staring at me with a look that sends a chill down my spine. 

“Hush,” he whispers, eyes wide in fear. He quickly blows out the candle near my feet and pulls me into the corner again, where he begins to gather the food and supplies he has collected over the last few days.

“Alcimus, what is going on?” I murmur, fear boiling in my stomach. This isn’t like him.

My husband turns around again, panting as he meets my gaze. 

“The Guards,” he stammers under his breath. “One of them recognized me, and brought me in for questioning. I managed to escape, but…” he steals a quick glance at the exposed ceiling before continuing. “…They’re following me.”

I nearly scream. “What?”

“I said hush!” Alcimus says, placing a finger on my lips to quiet me. I watch as his gaze falls on my swollen stomach and he sighs. “Regina, we have to leave. Now.”

My head aches with questions that I know he won’t have time to answer. “Now?” 

Alcimus nods, dumping his gathered supplies into a pack and throwing it over his shoulders.

“Follow me,” he says, entwining his fingers with mine. Leading me to the entrance, he climbs to the surface and helps me do the same.

The night wind brushes against my cheeks, and I feel the coolness of the grass on my feet. For the briefest of moments I feel free; a feeling I haven’t felt since Emperor Nero came to rule.

The moment ends when Alcimus grabs my hand again and begins running, dragging me with him.

We run, hands entwined, through the fields and far away from our shelter. The city of Rome glistens in the light of a thousand lamps behind us; a city that would be so beautiful if not for the corruption inside it.

Alcimus glances back constantly, eyes wild with determination and concern.

I manage to catch his gaze again. 

“Alcimus,” I begin. “Pray with me.”

My husband’s worried eyes travel again to my stomach, before latching on mine again. 

“Our Father, who art in Heaven…” I begin through jagged breaths, and he joins.

“…Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.”

We keep our voices low and our feet quick for the remainder of the prayer. When we finish, Alcimus lets out a breath and smiles. 

“Thank God for you, Regina.”

I return his smile for a fraction of a second, before a piercing cry rings through the night.

“Alcimus Sagneus! Halt, by order of the Emperor!”

My heart plummets in my chest as I glance behind at the dozens of soldiers advancing toward us, torches in their hands and brutality in their eyes. 

I hardly have time to process the next few moments. My husband shoves me behind a nearby bush, pleading with me to stay as he hands me the pack of goods. When I protest, he kisses me and flashes a sad smile before throwing himself back out to the Roman guards.

Tears flow down my face as I watch, hidden in the shadows. Three armed men grab hold of my husband, roping his wrists together and taunting him with their words. Traitor, they call him, and stupid Christ follower. 

I flinch with every move they make, but Alcimus doesn’t crumble. He refuses to renounce his faith. 

“I’ll join the martyrs,” he tells them, and they laugh and lead him away. 

Heart broken and hands trembling, I rise shakily from the bush as panic fills my body. I’m ready to chase after them, when my husband’s voice stops me.

He can’t see me, and I can no longer see him. But I know he addresses me.

“Be strong!” Alcimus cries as he disappears into the night. “This is not our end. Per lumen Christi, by the light of Christ, we will meet again!”

I hear the soldiers in the distance, cursing him and telling him he’s lost his sanity. I hear them mock our religion, marveling at what it does to people.

And then, I hear nothing. 

The entirety of Rome is silent.

I crumble back to the ground and sob into my hands, grief suffocating me like a backbreaking weight in my soul.

“Alcimus,” I whisper his name over and over. “No, Alcimus.”

I feel helpless; like I’ve lost everything. My husband, my home, my life as it once was.

I weep until the light of dawn begins to peer through the clouds. I have run out of tears, and hope.

But then, the baby in my womb kicks, reminding me that I am not alone. 

Reminding me that life must go on.

I exhale and close my eyes. Somewhere in my pounding, broken heart, an echo whispers. I listen, beyond the sounds of the waking city yonder, and I hear their voices.

The voices of the martyrs; the memories of the brave men and women of God who have gone before me. Among them, my husband’s words settle.

This is not our end. We will meet again!

A spark of hope lights in my aching heart. Perhaps Alcimus is right. Perhaps I will see him again.

Until then, I will live for my child.

I wipe my eyes and shakily rise from the floor, feeling my racing heart calm.

Help me go on, Lord, I pray. Per lumen Christi.

—

“If the world hates you, you know that it has hated Me before it hated you.”

John 15:18