Page 70 of Good Vampires Go to Heaven

“It’s not uncommon,” she told him. “The downfall of many men.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t see that at the time. I got the idea to join the Roman Army, which was offering a great number of coins to those who could serve in higher-ranking positions. I had some experience with Hebrew fighting in the region.”

“Really? I thought the Romans were the enemies of the Jews then.”

“They were. But I did not intend to join the Roman armies fighting Hebrews or Christians. There were other Roman soldiers building a wall in the Celtic land across the waters. Which is Britain today.”

“I’ve seen remnants of that wall,” she was excited to tell him. “Just think, you helped build that. Amazing!”

He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “My family tried to dissuade me from what they termed my ‘madness.’ Especially my brother-in-law Benjamin, who tried to tell me of the atrocities being committed by the Romans, not nearby but in distant cities and villages. I discounted Benjamin’s ravings because he was known to be a hothead rebel, always in trouble.”

“And so you went.” It was not a question.

“I did. For two years. And I returned to my little vineyard, my pocket full of bloody lucre, full of pride in myself. Now I could buy the additional land. Now I could devote more time to my family. Everyone would be so happy.” His voice choked on those last words, and he bowed his head.

She put a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to go on.”

He raised his head and his grief was hard to look at. Soul deep. In his sad eyes and in the slight furrows between his brows and beside his mouth. He cleared his throat and went on. “My vineyard and home were burned to the ground, as were all the neighboring properties. There was no one around. I went mad for a while, tearing at my hair . . .” He put a hand to his bristly head for emphasis. “Pounding the earth . . .” He pounded the island’s granite top with a fist and caused a roomful of vangels to look his way, then return to watching the ball game. “Screaming to the heavens.”

He paused, then continued, “Finally, an elderly man came out of hiding and told me what had happened. Benjamin and his band of rebels had been harassing the soldiers in the distant city. Incensed, the soldiers came into that region, which had seemed safe for so many years, searching for the rebels. They found them, and took out their anger on everyone else for miles around.”

“They were all killed? Your family?”

He shook his head. “That would have been kinder, but, no, they escaped to Masada where they eventually died of starvation, then were set afire. The Romans besieged them in that setting, you see.”

“I remember hearing something about Masada one time. I think there was a movie.”

“Yes, but none of the books portrayed the real happening. I got there a little too late. The fire was still burning, and I actually saw the bodies of my wife and children. They were so thin, like Holocaust victims.”

Tears rolled down his face, which he swiped away with the back of his hand. “I went on a rampage then, killing every Roman I could find, even their women and children. And then I killed myself.”

She was holding both of his hands in hers. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was. I as good as set the fires myself. By taking a place in the Roman Army in Britain, I relieved other soldiers to war against my people in Judea.”

A moment of poignant silence ensued. Regina wasn’t sure what to say.

“So, that is my story,” he said.

“Do you know, your eyes are blue now?” she remarked.

“Really? Like all the vangels?”

She nodded.

“Little by little, I am becoming one of you, I think. But did my eye color just change now?”

“I think so. When I sat down, I was admiring your eyelashes again—”

“These fool eyelashes!” he said with a grin.

“—and I know your eyes were brown then.”

“Hmmm.” He probably thought she was trying to make him feel better.

“Maybe it’s a sign that you’re forgiven,” she proffered.

“I’ll never be forgiven,” he declared. “Never! I’ll never forgive myself.”