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  Sold Into Freedom

  A Planting Faith Novel

  Carole Towriss

  Copyright © 2018 by Carole Towriss

  All rights reserved.

  Book cover designed by JD&J with some stock imagery provided by Tetana Bahnenko © 123RF.com.

  Edited by Natalie Hanemann.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™ Scripture quotations marked NASB are taken from the New American Standard Bible® (NASB), Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. www.Lockman.org All rights reserved. Scripture quotations marked JUB are taken from the Jubilee Bible, copyright © 2000, 2001, 2010, 2013 by Life Sentence Publishing, Inc. Used by permission of Life Sentence Publishing, Inc., Abbotsford, Wisconsin. All rights reserved.

  Sold into Freedom is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Previously Published novels by This Author

  For those who are no longer slaves

  to the power of sin

  and have become slaves of God—

  and those still seeking freedom.

  Once when we were going to the place of prayer, we were met by a female slave who had a spirit by which she predicted the future. She earned a great deal of money for her owners by fortune-telling.

  Acts 16:16

  The crowd joined in the attack against Paul and Silas, and the magistrates ordered them to be stripped and beaten with rods. After they had been severely flogged, they were thrown into prison, and the jailer was commanded to guard them carefully.

  Acts 16:22–23

  CHARACTERS

  BIBLICAL

  Paulos • apostle of Yeshua

  Timotheos/Timos • the youngest of Paulos’s companions

  Loukas • Greek companion of Paulos; a physician

  Lydia • cloth dealer from Anatolia

  Silas • Jewish companion of Paulos

  Euodia • slave of Maximus and Cassia

  Syntyche/Syn • one of Lydia’s workers

  HISTORICAL

  Titus Flavius Vespasian •

  former Roman legate (general) of the Second Augusta legion

  Publius Ostorius Scapula •

  Roman legate (general) of the Second Augusta legion

  FICTIONAL

  Elantia/Tia • a seer of a Britanni tribe in southwestern Britannia

  Quintus Valerius/Quin • a Roman tribune in the Second Augusta Legion; fifth son of Julius Valerius

  Attalos • Julius Valerius’s Greek slave; Quin’s tutor

  Cassia • Maximus’s wife; Gallus’s cousin

  Charis • Quin’s female slave; Greek.

  Davos • physician; Greek physician in the Second Augusta

  Decimus Magius • duovir/praetor of Philippi

  Dorkas • inn owner in Ostia (port of Rome)

  Flavius • a Roman tribune; son of a senator

  Gallus Crispus • duovir/praetor of Philippi

  Gallus’s slaves • Leonidas; Nicanor

  Helios • Gallus’s scribe; records keeper of Philippi; Greek.

  Julius Valerius • Quin’s father

  Julia Valerius • Quin’s mother

  Lydia’s workers • Zenobia, Demas

  Mamma • Elantia’s mom

  Marcus • wine dealer in Philippi

  Maximus • Roman; resident of Philippi; Tia’s owner

  Patroclus • a land broker

  Philon • a young slave arrested for assault

  Prison guards • Alexios, Numerius, Pandaros, Stolos

  Tancorix • Elantia’s younger brother

  Tatos • Elantia’s father; chieftain of village in Britannia

  Xenia • customer of Elantia

  GLOSSARY

  Brittonic

  bratir: brother

  carami te: I love you

  cariatu: sweetheart

  Roumanos (pl. Roumani): Roman

  tatos: dad

  Latin

  avia: grandmother

  Britanni: inhabitants of Britannia

  Camulodunum: retirement colony for soldiers in Britannia

  carissima: dearest, beloved

  cena: dinner

  cuirass: sleeveless piece of armor covering from neck to waist

  curia: meeting place for a Roman Senate

  culina: kitchen

  denarius (pl. denarii): silver coin of Rome worth four sesterces

  domine, dominus: (f. domina, pl. domini) master

  domus: house

  dulcissima: sweetheart

  duovir (pl. duoviri): magistracy of two men

  duovir quinquennial: duoviri elected to conduct a census

  fugitivarii: specialists in recovering runaway slaves

  impluvium: sunken area in an open-air atrium

  insula (pl. insulae): apartment building, usually cheaply made

  lectus: backless couch

  legate: leader of a legion

  legio: legion

  libra: ancient Roman unit of weight equal to about ¾ pound

  lictors: officer, attending a ruler, who carries out sentences

  mater: mother

  medicus: doctor

  pater: father

  pugio: dagger

  raeda: four-wheeled passenger carriage

  scriba: scribe

  sesterce (pl. sesterces): brass coin of Imperial Rome

  stoa: roofed portico or colonnade

  strigil: instrument used to scrape away sweat, oil, and dirt

  te amo: I love you

  testatio: document confirming Roman citizenship

  triclinium: dining area

  via: street

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  My thanks to . . .

  About the Author

  If You Liked This book . . .

  Introduction

  In 43 A.D., Emperor Claudius sent four Roman legions to invade Britannia. After a brutal initial battle, the Legio Secunda Augusta, under the command of future emperor Vespasian, stormed west along the southern coast, fighting thirty battles, conquering two warlike tribes, and capturing more than twenty hillforts and the Isle of Wight.

  One of these two tribes was located jus
t east of what is now Cornwall and Devon, the southwest peninsula of Britain. The battles against this tribe were so fierce, Vespasian decided not to fight against their neighbors, the Dumnonii who lived on the peninsula. Instead they headed north to Wales. Vespasian returned to Rome in 47 A.D., but the legion continued battling the Britanni until 52 A.D., when they were defeated.

  In 49 A.D., the apostle Paul began his second missionary journey, accompanied by Silas. In Lystra, a city in Asia Minor (present-day Turkey), Paul again connected with Timothy, whom he had met on his first visit there, and asked Timothy to join him and Silas. In a vision, God told Paul to go to Macedonia, now northern Greece, to preach the gospel. There, Luke joined them. Their first stop was Philippi.

  Philippi was a Roman colony, a status of which it was justifiably proud. Though important, it was not a large city, with a population of between 10- and 15,000. Most of those would have been slaves and Greek farmers living outside the walls. Greek was the main language spoken. Philippi had a Roman form of government, and its free-born inhabitants were citizens with enormous privileges. It does not appear, however, that there were many Jews living there.

  It is here that our characters meet—and change—each other.

  1

  “There are . . . things which the Lord hates, . . . that are detestable to him: . . . a heart that devises wicked schemes, [and] feet that are quick to rush into evil.”

  Proverbs 6:16,18

  Southwestern coast of Britannia, 49 a.d.

  It was the screaming that woke her up.

  Elantia rubbed the sleep from her eyes and scrambled from her straw-covered cottage in the tiny village by the sea. In the grim light of early morning, nail-studded leather pounded the ground as soldiers dragged horrified families out of their roundhouses. Blood-red cloaks whipped in the ocean breeze as the invaders set fire to anything they could burn, tearing apart what they could not.

  Screeches and wails intertwined with the clang of metal against metal, the crackle of flames eating up thatch, and the soldiers’ horrible, dreadful words. Thank the gods their chieftain father had insisted they learn Latin when the Roumani defeated their neighbors years ago, but she hated the sound of it.

  Muscles tightened, ready to fight, Elantia fought through the throng of townspeople surrounding her father.

  The Roumani leader, a centurion judging by his uniform, stood face-to-face with him. “Give us your best quietly or we will take them by force.”

  Shoulders back, Tatos stood his ground. “You have no right. We are at peace with Rome. After months of bloody battles with our neighbors, Commander Vespasian decided conquering us was not worth the losses to his legion. He vowed the Roumani would never attack us.”

  “What makes you think we answer to Vespasian?” He leaned nearer. “Now stand aside.”

  “I will not.” Tatos pulled himself as tall as his aging body allowed. “We’ve done nothing to you to warrant such violence. I must protect my people.”

  Her heart swelled at her tatos’s vow, even in the face of almost certain defeat.

  The centurion shoved him aside. “Rome needs strong backs. When we’re done, you’ll have nothing left to protect.”

  In the six years since the Roumani had invaded their land, they had brought nothing but pain.

  He beckoned to another, whispered to him. The younger man grabbed Tatos and Mamma and dragged them away.

  “Mamma!” Elantia rushed to follow her parents, but a rough hand jerked her by the arm and shoved her into a sheep pen, where most of the other young adults of the tribe already waited. She ran to Tancorix.

  Her brother wrapped his arms around her, held her close.

  The second soldier grabbed Tancorix and pulled him from Elantia, lining them up in a loose row.

  The centurion strode over. Eyeing each of them from head to toe, he hesitated when he came to their cousin. He grabbed her thin arm and turned it over once, twice.

  Elantia’s breath caught. The girl was weak. She’d been sick most of the winter. What would he do to her?

  He yanked her out of line, thrust her toward his second in command, and then continued his inspection, nodding in satisfaction. Stopping before Elantia’s brother, he fingered the thick, braided gold torque around Tancorix’s neck. He yanked at it, but the opening at the neck was but a finger’s breadth wide. He pulled harder, twisting.

  Tancorix put his hands to his neck, wincing in pain as the stiff metal cut into his skin and cut off his air. He grasped the man’s forearms, sinking to the ground, his breath coming fast.

  Tia’s heart pounded as she tried to pull the Roumanos’s hands away. “This is the chief’s son! That torque was put around his neck as a child, and he grew into it. It’s not coming off!”

  Tancorix struggled for air, his face turning as red as the centurion’s cloak.

  The Roumanos let go of the necklace to backhand her.

  She stumbled but managed to stay upright. Stinging pain radiated from her cheek to her whole head. The metallic taste of blood lingered on her lip.

  With a smile that sent a shiver down her back, he neared her. He ran his fingers down her face, her neck, then along the front of the sleeveless cloak she wore, the one Mamma had spent the winter months making for her. He moved behind her and wrenched it off her arms. His hot breath on her neck sent her stomach roiling. “It’s a shame we are in such a hurry.”

  He tossed the garment to his aide, and the younger man left.

  Tia’s hands trembled as she reached for Tancorix. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple.

  The soldier returned with a long rope. Her skin burned as he wrapped it around her wrists and knotted it, far too tightly. It went from her to Tancorix to all the others in turn.

  She searched for Tatos and Mamma. What had the soldiers done to them? She’d never trusted the Roumani, and today had proved her instinct right. Her father had made sure they’d been loyal, kept every provision of the truce, and then today . . .

  The centurion yanked the end of the rope. Her knees hit the ground. Her face smashed against her fists. He tugged again, pulling her up, shouting some command at her. Tancorix’s gentle hands steadied her as she stood.

  They followed the chief soldier. At the edge of the seaside village, all that remained of her people—the old ones and the youngest—huddled together. She quickly searched for familiar clothing. Her eyes rested on the colorful tunic Mamma wore. And Tatos? He waited behind her mother, his cheek swollen, his lip cut and bleeding.

  Then she saw the bodies at their feet.

  Her heart sank as realization dawned. The Roumani intended to make her father watch as they slaughtered what was left of his village.

  One by one the legionaries dragged a villager from the crowd, rammed a sword through, and let the body drop.

  Her father still stood, battered. Bound. Silent.

  Elantia’s legs gave way, but Tancorix held her up. A moan escaped.

  The villagers gone, the centurion neared Tatos.

  Her father looked at her and mouthed the familiar command, “No tears.” His moist eyes reflected the raging flames. “Carami te.”

  I love you too. Her blood pounded. Her breath came fast and shallow.

  Another legionary blocked her view. His elbow shot back, and a body crumbled to the ground. The bloody sword came to rest at his side.

  Elantia turned and buried her face in Tancorix’s chest. She longed to grab him, wrap his arms around her, feel safe, but since they were bound, he could only whisper in her ear.

  “Don’t look,” her brother whispered. “You don’t want to remember them that way.”

  After a few moments, a crimson-cloaked soldier grabbed at her again, pulling her away. She glanced toward the dwindling crowd.

  Tancorix shook his head. “Don’t.” He placed his body between her and the pile of executed villagers.

  The group stumbled forward as the legionary pulled on the rope.

  “Keep looking ahead,
” Tancorix whispered from behind.

  She focused her gaze on the cloak of the man leading them. It took everything she had to put one foot in front of the other, to keep from looking back.

  The best her village had to offer marched, and marched, and marched. More soldiers added young people from other villages at various points along the way, the train of captives growing longer.

  Tancorix was right. She needed to cherish the memory of her mother and father in her heart, a memory of them as wonderful parents and strong leaders.

  She’d need their toughness, their love to face what was to come.

  Because warriors don’t cry.

  Battlefield, western coast of Britannia

  The darkness evaporated, but the agony remained.

  Quintus Valerius stretched his left hand across his chest, biting back a groan as he pressed his fingers against his shoulder. He brought his hand away dipped in blood. Any attempt at movement brought excruciating pain, and he let his arm fall against the damp grass. He tried to sit up but his body screamed in protest. The iron scent of blood filled his nostrils.

  Wolves hovered at the edges of the battlefield, eager to attack the decaying flesh of fallen legionaries. Slaves tended fires, keeping the animals at bay as well as bringing light to the battlefield while the Romans buried their dead.