Free The Hidden Flame by Janette Oke Page A

Judean caravans are hit, which leads me to suspect they pay tribute. Or the Zealots resist attacking their own. But our own merchants and Herod's are suffering losses." The tribune showed a brief glimpse of humor. "I find it hard not to agree when they call Herod their enemy."
    Linux gave a sardonic grin in answer, then asked, "Are you suffering casualties?"
    "Some. We have not had reason to mention them in official reports. But, yes, we've had some casualties."
    Linux heard the unspoken concern. "More than you would like, I'm guessing."
    "I dislike losing any men. Speaking of which, whatever happened to that friend of yours, that former centurion-what's his name?"
    "Alban, sir. I was hoping you could tell me."
    Bruno Aetius turned to his aide, who remained stiffly at attention by the side window. "Do we know?"
    "Haven't heard a thing since he resigned his commission, sir."
    "Hate losing good men," Bruno Aetius repeated. "From all I heard, he was a fine officer. Wouldn't you agree?"
    "One of the best I have ever served with, sir."
    "Even if he was a Gaul." Bruno eyed him with a commander's wisdom. "How did you find things in Umbria?"
    "Much the same. My brother has grown fat."
    "I recall Castor from my days in Rome. Your brother was always on the heavy side."
    "Now he is obese. I doubt he can any longer tie his own sandals." He felt a trace of the old bile. His brother had married a girl half his age and a third his weight. She had wept on her wedding day. As had Linux's nieces, who were hoping for a mother. But it would not do to relate such things to the legate. "My days were brightened by the company of my brother's two daughters. They are growing up to be as lovely as their late mother."
    Bruno's eyes glimmered with a smile he did not release. "They stole your heart, I wager."
    "I would have given anything to have brought them back with me."
    "You did well to leave them in Umbria. Judea is suffering through perilous times." The tribune finally deigned to notice the scroll Linux held. "You have brought something for me?"
    "Yes, Tribune."
    "Can't be good news, the way you're holding it as if it were a viper." He gestured across the table. "Let's be having a look at it, then."
    Linux handed over the scroll and resumed his military posture. The tribune broke the seal, unrolled the parchment, and read in silence. He then rose and walked to the side window. His aide risked a single glance, his expression full of concern.
    Bruno Aetius announced to the arched opening, "I've been ordered back to Damascus."
    Linux said nothing.
    "I and my entire officer corps. Sent off as if we'd been caught stealing from the emperor." He planted two fists on the windowsill. "I suppose I should be grateful for the chance to leave this pestilent city. But to be sent off like a ..."
    Linux remained standing at stiff attention, his eyes upon the wall behind the tribune's desk.
    "I assume you met this new prelate."
    "I did, sir. In Rome. Just a few weeks after his appointment became public. I went by to present my compliments, as any officer would to a new commander. To my surprise, Marcellus asked to see me."
    "What do you make of him?"
    Linux replied carefully, "He is most definitely a man of today's Rome."
    "Yes, I've heard all I need to know about what is happening at the heart of our empire." Bruno returned to the chair behind his desk. "Sejanus is said to be digging his own grave, fighting with the Senate and demanding to be named consul. What help is he receiving from our Emperor Tiberius?"
    Linux hesitated, then confessed, "The emperor rarely emerges from his pleasure gardens on Capri. Sejanus stands alone against the Senate."
    "Then I warrant he is not long for this world." He lifted his head to stare into Linux's face. "When does the new prelate arrive?"
    "Marcellus was scheduled to leave Rome soon after I did, sir. We were delayed by some vicious storms. If he missed the bad weather, he could be here any day."
    The tribune toyed with the