What's your superpower? The thing you're better at than anyone else? The gift you have that you can't explain where it came from or how or when you acquired it? Elianora Astoria has a talent so unfathomable and inexplicable that even SHE doesn't believe in it. And yet she's managed to stay alive all these years. I'll tell you a secret. The people of Ancient Rome credit Elianora will a certain gift, but her truest gift is an unwavering faith. But can faith alone keep you alive in the face of extreme danger? You'll have to read to find out. Let me take you back to Ancient Rome in the year 79AD where family and faith were sometimes truly the only things to live for.
Elianora Astoria Bestia
Roma, Senatus Populusque Romanum
79 A.D.
Favor in Rome, thought Elianora Astoria Bestia as she sat in the warm Roman sun looking into the imperial Farnese Gardens, is like a flower; if the sun and gentle rain fall upon it, it can bloom and grow beautiful and strong, but one storm, encroaching weed or careless boot can end it all.
And if she had had her choice, Elianora would not have chosen to be a delicate Roman flower at all.
Her eyes lingered on the cypress trees and the way they towered over the blooming hyacinths and marigolds, narcissi and violets, casting their looming shadows over the colorful blossoms, and she felt the chill of the shade herself. In Rome, it seemed, everyone stood in someone else’s shadow, and everyone fought for their place in the sun. Elianora had come across hers quite by accident, and nothing had ever been the same since. There were times when she felt that she didn’t belong here, in the palace and in the court. There were times when she felt, deep down, that long ago she had been planted in someone else’s garden entirely. But once you were planted in the Emperor’s garden, there was only one way out.
The tears were slipping down her cheeks now, and the warm summer breeze was doing its best to dry them up before they fell onto the stone window ledge of the imperial palace. It had only been a week. But without him, it had been the longest week of her life. The image played over and over in her mind… Opening the door. Seeing him slumped at the table, the chalice still in his hand, the purple stain of poisoned wine still on his lips. They should have seen it coming. They should have been more careful. She should have been making his dinner, and it never would have happened. But none of that mattered now; there was no bringing him back. Her husband, Vibius’s life was squelched by poison at the hands of an unknown enemy, whose thirst was not for wine, but for power.
As a cloud moved over the garden, throwing it into shadow, the baby cried out in the room behind her. Elianora went to her little son, picked him up, and held him close to her heart. His tears stopped instantaneously, and he fell back to sleep in her arms. She rocked her sleeping child and gazed out into the gardens once again, wondering what kind of world she had brought this little baby into. Someone in this cutthroat court had murdered his father, who had been a prominent senator. But Elianora herself, was too low-born to remain untouched in the position Vibius had secured for them. Surely, the new emperor, Titus, was just giving her a few days to grieve before he ousted her and the child from their home and took away their land. He had no reason to let them stay in the palace complex; they had nothing to contribute.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true, Elianora reasoned as she rocked Marcus in her arms. There was one special gift that had kept her on the radar in Rome for most of her life. It wasn’t even a gift, really, it was… dumb luck. But it had worked so far. And now, she thought, as she stood at the window looking down into the arena of the Roman Forum, if there was any hope to keep herself and Marcus safe and provided for, she was going to have to do it again… and hope her luck hadn’t run out quite yet.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Who is there?” she asked through the door as Marcus fussed in her arms.
“It is I,” came a gentle, giggling voice. Elianora smiled for the first time all day and opened the door.
“How are you faring?” Septima asked her friend, this time with more solemnity. “I can barely think lest my thoughts settle on you.”
Elianora laid Marcus down in his cradle and embraced her friend. “I am as well as I can be. You are thoughtful for visiting, Septima. Will you sit for awhile?”
“No, I must not stay. I fear that the cause for my visit is not purely social.”
“Oh?”
“They are planning another one. It is to occur in eight days.”
“Surely they are not expecting me to… But I have just lost my husband! How am I to endure all of this?”
“I do not know. I was told that Emperor Titus wants to see it for himself. He was away fighting when his father called upon you, and he has heard it is a wonder, what you can do. And I fear, well, that it was Vibius’ murder that has brought your name up in the first place.”
“We are in the hands of brutal maniacs. I have no choice in this matter?”
“You do not.”
“Septima, with Vibius gone,” Elianora started, as her eyes welled up again, “if I do not… could I count on you to…” But she couldn’t even finish the question. She just gestured at the cradle that held the entirety of her world and looked back expectantly at her only true friend.
Touched, Septima reached out and cupped Elianora’s face in her hands. “It would be my honor to raise the son of two as great as you and Vibius. However, that will not be necessary, I am certain. You are special. And the gods favor you. Surely, all will be well.”
“Thank you for your kindness,” Elianora said. “And for your warning.”
“Of course. Now I must go. I am not supposed to be here.”
When the door shut behind Septima, Elianora stepped to her son’s cradle and peered down into it. Marcus slept peacefully, unaware of the pact that was just made over him. Elianora was fearful, but not surprised. She had hoped this new emperor, Titus, would be less sadistic and cruel than his predecessors. But sadism and cruelty seemed to be required traits for Roman emperors. He would be as the rest. Like the others, the people would probably come to loathe his despotism and relentless taxation and yet adore him for the techniques he used to distract them from them. The great emperors’ plans for the people: panem et circensus. Free bread and circuses to prevent revolt.
The previous emperor, Vespasian, who was Titus’ father, had been fascinated by her gift and had called on her multiple times. And as the tail-end ruler in the year 69, which was called the “year of four emperors”- a terrible time of bloodshed and wickedness in the Empire where the throne turned over four times in a year- Vespasian hadn’t been the only one. Emperors Vitellius, Otho and Galba had been just the same. Blood-thirsty. Ruthless. Drunk with power. And enthralled with Elianora’s talent. And, of course, it had all begun with the great and terrible Nero, who discovered her gift himself one day. It was a day she nearly died. And it was also a day she made the move from a slave girl to becoming the newest and most fragile flower in the Emperor’s garden.
***
“Romans! Behold!” Nero had once shouted unto the people, years and years before Septima’s warning to Elianora. The day’s gladiator tournament was underway already. The entire crowd at the Roman Forum’s arena was silent as, with bated breath, they awaited Emperor Nero’s cue for the entertainment to continue. A maniacal dictator, Nero had murdered and pillaged his way to Rome’s supreme world domination. He was untouchable, the most powerful, fearsome man on Earth. There was no telling what he would do, and the people brought their curiosity for the salacious to each and every free public event he held. There had already been much gladiatorial spectacle at the Forum that afternoon.
The equites fought first. They had entered on horseback, thrown their lances and then dismounted to finish the battle with their long swords. This day, both were badly injured, so the match was called a draw and ended. The silly andabatae came next, hooded and blind-folded and swinging their swords comically as they were pushed closer and closer together as the Romans laughed. The dimachaeri fought each other with their double swords after that, and one was badly injured and not expected to live. The crowd went wild with delight.
Then the essedari rode in on their war chariots and pummeled each other near to bits. The people remained unsatisfied, though no real quantity of blood had been spilled. And where were the venatores and the bestiarii who slayed, or were slayed by, the wild animals? Was there to be no good entertainment today in Nero’s free show? The Romans waited in anticipation of what their emperor was going to introduce next.
“People of Rome! Today, a treat!” Nero roared. “You Romans have heard of the rebellion by the Jews, the people of the east who have come to our lands, but refuse to believe in our gods!” Boos came from the crowd at this. “Now we are learning that they would try to rise up against the Roman Empire- against me! I looked the other way at their strange customs of worship, however, I cannot ignore their revolt!”
The Romans cheered with jingoism for their powerful ruler. “There are even some Jews who think they have found a new god. A man named Jesus Christ, a Jewish leader, whom they said was a king of men, a living god on earth- when he was alive!” Laughter exploded from the masses at Nero’s antagonism. “Romans, should not I be called divine, myself?” More cheers.
“After all, I have fought in wars! I have slain great, exotic beasts! I have conquered lands and people without mercy! No Jesus Christ did those things! But I have! Am I not a god among men, my people?” And the Romans roared their agreement. “Today, we will witness a match of great power. We have a man… Where is this man?” Nero asked, looking about impatiently. On the dusty Forum floor, a man in shackles was led into the center of the arena. He had no armor, no weapon; he was attired only in a dingy loincloth, his hair matted and filthy.
“Look at this mighty gladiator!” Nero declared, clearly on a roll. “He is a Jew- more than a Jew, even! He calls himself, can you believe, a ‘Christian!’ But I call him… our next contender!”
The crowd of highly entertained slaves, soldiers, plebs, senators and patricians alike hooted and hissed and laughed at the man in the center of the arena. Nero had them in his palm when he asked them, “Shall we meet his opponent?” Screams from the people clearly voiced their excitement at seeing who would enter the ring next. “Bring him in!” the Roman Emperor ordered.
People craned their necks and rose from their seats gawking in all directions for the first glimpse at the opposing gladiator. Would he be a veteran killer so heavily armored and armed that the man wouldn’t stand a chance? Would he be a slasher? A net fighter? A bowman?
From a side entrance, a door swung wide. A large square vessel covered with a tarp was rolled out and placed next to the man. “Christian!” Nero shouted, his joy spilling over in his tone. “Remove that cloth and face your gladiator!”
People were shocked when the man, unflinching and without hesitation, grabbed the cloth and pulled it back. The crowd gasped. In the cage was a huge male lion, which roared at him in fear and frustration. From a safe place in the stands, a servant with a hooked pole unhinged the cage. The lion roared again at its facing enemy, and began to step out of the cage. But the man stood his ground. When the lion was out, the two opponents simply stared at each other, mere feet between them, as Nero crossed his arms and stood back smiling, watching the nail-biting scenario he had staged. The people went silent. Unexpectedly, nothing happened.
Nero wasn’t having it. “Christian!” he bellowed again. “Take a step toward your opponent! Show him that you are not afraid.” The man didn’t do it though; he seemed too terrified to move. “Come, man! Will your god not protect you? Have you no faith? Show the Romans you believe! Go forth!” The crowd surged with noise and energy once more, and the distracted lion looked around at the spectators.
After a few seconds of hesitation, the man did step forward, and when he did, he fell to his knees, folded his hands and pressed them to his forehead. It was clear that the lion did not know what to make of this. It swatted, and the man fell to his side in the dirt, huge bloody gashes appearing on his arms and chest where the beast had connected. Romans cheered loudly from the stands, but grew silent as the beast made its second approach. It sniffed at its foe, and when it caught wind of his iron-rich blood, it snarled. It swatted again, and the man screamed aloud, and when he did, the cat began to maul him. Not wanting to miss a moment, the crowd watched in quiet anticipation as the man tried in vain to fight off the lion, crying, screaming, begging and praying as his body was being shredded. Nero was enthralled until, suddenly, a scream came from the stands. Down by the gate there was a baby. It wailed louder, it seemed, than anyone had ever heard a baby cry before. The lion stopped, and, looking to the stands, began to walk away from the bloody man and toward the crying child.
“Go after him, Christianius!” Nero called sarcastically, but the man remained on the ground crying and sobbing and calling out something unintelligible to the emperor. Unable to fathom how a crying baby had distracted a lion mid-kill, he leaned into his advisor. “What does he say?” he asked.
“He is speaking the Hebrew language. He is saying, ‘My daughter.’ Yes. That is what he cries, ‘My daughter, my daughter. Lord, you save me with her help.’ The crying one must be his.”
The lion stood at the edge of the arena, watching the baby as it screamed. The people were confused. They booed and hissed. Some stuck their thumbs up, some stuck them down. But despite their racket, the baby screamed on as the man crawled to the far side of the ring calling his prayers of thanksgiving to his God all the way.
None of this was going according to the Emperor’s plan, and as he made his way through the crowd and down the stands, Nero- apparently riled- yelled out, “Woman! Woman! Shut that child up! This man is a traitor to Rome and you interfere with my execution of him!”
The woman, obviously the man in the arena’s wife, turned her tear-stained face to her emperor, as the child continued to scream. When he had reached her, Nero, the great leader of the entire Roman Empire, yanked the baby from her hands and dangled it over the edge of the arena.
“Noooo!” the woman screamed, and Nero turned his face back to her and smiled before he dropped the baby into the arena at the bloody paws of the lion.
The Romans were shocked at this. They had known Nero to be a despot, but this was unthinkable. When Nero stepped back from the edge, he turned and slapped the mother across the face.
He said, “You do not speak to your Emperor in that way! I would do well to drop you in there too, but as I am feeling generous today, I shall not. You shall watch instead.”
The stunned woman could only cry as she looked on. Back in the arena, the man had begun to move as soon as he saw his tiny daughter being dangled over the rim. Despite his injuries, he ran to the baby girl, scooped her up in his arms and began to run back to the far side of the ring. The crowd cheered, but the lion was already in pursuit. Running straight into the wooden wall of the Forum’s arena, the man sank to the ground, shielding his child, helpless and hopeless as a man could be. The lion approached, and the father and daughter cowered together in each other’s arms. Emperor Nero, and the rest of the Romans leaned in to see the bloodbath.
Strangely, the great beast with its bloodstained paws and fearsome fangs, stopped its charge a few feet from them. It seemed to study them cowering against that wall for a second, and then walked calmly right up to them and sniffed at the baby, who sat silent and blood-covered in her father’s arms. Spellbound, the spectators waited for the worst. The lion opened its terrifying jaws, taking the baby girl’s head in its mouth.
“No! No!” the Christian man pleaded with the monstrous animal as it pulled his daughter out of his arms. And that is when the miracle happened.
Her head between its teeth, the lion carried the baby to the middle of the arena. It set her down in the sand. Then it laid down next to her.
The audience held its breath. But baby Elianora was smiling now. She cooed at the lion who lounged next to her in a lazy, protective sort of way.
“Shhhhh!” her father warned from the wall, but his fear seemed unmerited. The lion… was it sleeping? No one watching could believe what they were seeing! Sweet baby Elianora looked over at her father and clapped her little hands and giggled at him.
Well, that was all the Romans needed to see. They went wild, cheering and laughing and tearing up and exclaiming their relief to each other. Normally, when they came to the Forum it was to watch people fight and die. Execution by animal was a regular occurrence, but this time their hearts were warmed.
“Let them live!” they shouted at Nero. “The child tames lions!” and “Free the Christian!” and “A fine beast!” Were being called out as well. But Nero never had cared for a happy ending.
“Fetch me my bow!” he roared over the din, and when his bow and quiver were presented to him, he lined an arrow up right at the Christian man in the ring, who laid slumped against the arena wall, bloodied and panting from exhaustion- his daughter guarded by a sleeping lion as Rome looked on. He could only submit as his emperor was about to personally execute him.
“Christianius!” Nero said mockingly, as he aimed at the man. “Was it my gods or yours who saved your daughter?”
The man was silent a second; he heaved a deep breath, and then he called back to his king, “It was mine. My God sent His Son to die so that we may live. So must He also have sent my daughter today to save us so that I could live.”
Nero sneered, but the Romans jumped from their seats cheering for this answer, this bravery, this man, this family, the power of this new God.
“What is your name, Christian. Tell us what to write on your tomb!”
The man summoned all his strength. He stood. With great pains, he ambled past the lion to his daughter and picked her up. Then he said, “I am Lucius Astorius Cordus. And this is Elianora Astoria. She is a miracle and a child of God.”
Nero squinted his eyes and lowered his bow a bit. Now, let it be known that Nero didn’t care about the sacrilege of the Roman god Jupiter. He cared about bad karma as a result of the sacrilege of Jupiter. People knew that, and in the stands, the Romans waited to see what he would say to this brave Christian’s retort. He didn’t disappoint.
“You, Astorius Cordus, because of your miraculous daughter are a free man today. You take with you a gladiator’s pay, as you seem to have bested the beast.” Cheers and whoops exploded from the crowd, and then Nero spoke again. “Your daughter needs a third name so that all of Rome may know of her gift. Henceforth, she is to be Elianora Astoria Bestia.”
Bestia. Like an animal, or beast. It was the perfect added nickname for the little lion tamer. The spectators erupted with more cheers of approval, unable to fathom the heart that their ruthless emperor was showing this day.
“Yes, Romans, yes. I have good in me. I can see a miracle for what it is. This girl is special. That is why she will come and stay with me in my court. Elianora Astoria Bestia, now a member of the Imperial Court of Nero Claudius Ceasar Augustus Germanicus! WHAT SAY YOU, ROMANS?”
The roar of the crowd shook the very bones of the Roman Forum with that pronouncement. Everyone was pleased. Except Lucius and his wife, who knew that while they had to give up their baby girl, that she was getting an opportunity slaves like them could only dream of.
“Bring her to the palace!” Nero shouted amid the cheers, but as Lucius made to walk out of the arena with his daughter in his arms, the sleeping lion awoke.
It stood, looking longingly after the baby as the two begin to exit, and Nero, like the true Roman Emperor he was, lifted his bow and shot the kindhearted lion straight through the chest.
Baby Elianora survived to adulthood, meaning she must have gotten lucky more than just once inside the arena of the Roman Forum, and later, the Coliseum. But, how long will her luck last? Is there an opponent who can best Bestia?
Thank you for reading this excerpt from Emilio's Story: Elianora Astoria Bestia. It is another one of my favorites- a story that speaks to my personal faith and truly moved me as I created it. Stay tuned next week for the last sneak peek from The American Locket. It's such a joy to share these with you. -Kelly