Introduction

In a world enslaved by money and power, one woman dares to be free. Will an explosive secret enslave her again?   The place is the island of Rhodes; the time, 227 BC. In the ten years that Tessa of Delos has been in bondage as a hetaeira, a high-priced Greek courtesan to a wealthy politician, she has learned to abandon all desire for freedom and love. But when her owner meets a violent death, Tessa is given the chance to be free—if she can hide the truth of his death and maintain a masquerade until escape is possible. Now Tessa must battle for her own freedom and for those she is beginning to love, as forces collide that will shatter the island’s peace and bring even its mighty Colossus to its knees.   Here is a powerful story showing how the love of God can transform even the most hardened person and bring back to life a soul jaded by sin and grief.

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Excerpt

Part I
“The finest of all the votive gifts and statues in the city of Rhodes is
the Colossus of Helios. Now it lies on the ground, overthrown by an
earthquake, severed at the knees.”
Strabo, The Geography, c. AD 23
“Even lying on the ground it is a marvel. Few people can make their
arms meet round its thumbs, and its fingers are larger than most
statues.”
Pliny the Elder, Natural History, AD 77
The wealthy island of Rhodes,
Desired by the Ptolemies of Egypt,
Coveted by the Seleucids of Syria,
Admired by the Romans, now birthing an empire.
Rhodes, last stronghold of democracy,
Patron of arts, center of learning, pride of Hellenism,
An island of people awaiting their destiny
shifting even now beneath their feet.
Shadow of Colossus by T.L. Higley © 2008 B&H Publishing Group

Rhodes, 227 BC
Seven Days Before the Great Quake
In the deceitful calm of the days preceding disaster, while Rhodes
still glittered like a white jewel in the Aegean, Tessa of Delos
planned to open her wrists.
The death of her body was long overdue. Her soul had died
ten years ago.
Ten years this day.
Tessa took in a breath of salty air and shivered. From her
lofty position outside Glaucus's hillside home, she watched the
populace's torches flicker to life in the dusk. Across the city the
day's tumult at the docks slowed. The massive statue of Helios at
the harbor's frothy mouth caught the sun's last rays as it slipped
into a cobalt sea. The torch he thrust skyward seem to burst
aflame, as though lit by the sun god himself.
He had been her only constant these ten years, this giant in
the likeness of Helios. A silent sentinel who kept vigil as life ripped
freedom and hope from her. Painful as it was, tonight she wanted
only to remember. To be alone, to remember, and to mourn.
“Tessa!” A wine-sodden voice erupted from the open door
behind her.
The symposium had begun only minutes ago, but Glaucus
was already deep into his cups. Bad form in any company, thought
Tessa, but Glaucus rarely cared. Tessa inhaled the tang of sea air
again and placed a steadying hand against the smooth alabaster
column supporting the roof. She did not answer, nor turn, when she
heard her fat master shuffle onto the portico.
“Get yourself back into the house!” Glaucus punctuated his
command with a substantial belch.
“Soon,” she said. “I wish to watch the sun god take his
leave.”
A household servant crept out and set two torches blazing.
An oily smell surged, then dissipated. From the house floated harsh
laughter mingled with the tinny sound of a flute.
Glaucus pushed his belly against her back and grabbed her
arm. The linen chitôn she'd taken care to arrange perfectly fell
away, exposing her shoulder. She reached to replace it, but Glaucus
caught her hand. He brought his mouth close to her ear, and
she could smell his breath, foul as days-old fish.
“The others are asking for you. 'Where is your hetaera?' they
say. 'The one with more opinions than Carthage has ships.'”
Tessa closed her eyes. She had long entertained Glaucus's
political friends with her outspoken thoughts on government and
power. While his wife remained hidden away in the women's quarters,
Glaucus's hetaera was displayed like an expensive pet with
sharp teeth. Tessa had once believed she led an enviable life, but
the years had stripped her of her illusions.
She stroked the polished filigree of the gold necklace encircling
her throat and remembered when Glaucus fastened it there, a
gilding for his personal figure of bronze.
“Now, Tessa.” Glaucus pulled her toward the door.
Her heart reached for the statue, clinging to her first memory
of it, when Delos had been home and innocence had still been
hers.
When I open my wrists, I will do it there.
The andrôn, central room of the men's quarters, smelled of roasted
meat and burning olive oil. Glaucus paused in the doorway, awaiting
the attention of those who had curried enough of his favor to be
invited tonight. When the small crowd lounging on low couches at
the room's perimeter turned his way, he pushed her into the lamp-lit
center. “Tessa, everyone,” he shouted. “Making a grand entrance!”
The room laughed and clapped, then returned their attention
to the food and wine on the low tables beside them. In the corner, a
young girl dressed in gauzy fabric blew thin streams of air into a
small flute. Tessa's eyes locked onto the girl's for a moment. A private
understanding passed between them that they were both objects
of entertainment, and the girl looked away, as though
ashamed to be seen so clearly. A desire to protect the girl surfaced
in Tessa, a maternal feeling that of late seemed only a breath away.
Glaucus pulled her to a couch and forced her down onto the
gold-trimmed red cushions. He lowered himself at her right and
leaned against her possessively. A black bowl with gold designs
waited in the center of their table, and Glaucus ladled wine from it
into a goblet for her. To the room he said, “To Tessa-always the
center of attention!” He raised his own cup, and his guests did the
same.
Tessa's gaze swept the room, taking in the majority of men
and the few women reclining against them. The moment was suspended,
with cups raised toward her, drunken and insincere smiles
affixed to faces, lamplight flickering across tables piled with grapes
and almonds and figs, and the flute's lament behind it all.
Will I remember this night, even in the afterlife?
“To Tessa!” Shouts went round the room, cups were drained
and thumped back to tables, and the party quickened around her.
Glaucus reached for her, but she pushed him away.
He laughed. “It would appear my Tessa is a bit high-spirited
tonight,” he said to the others. “And what shall be done with a mischievous
hetaera?” His thick-lipped smile and raised eyebrow took
in the room and elicited another round of laughter. He nodded, then
turned his attention to the man on his right, resuming a conversation
whose beginning she must have missed.
“Your objections earlier to the naturalization of the Jews are
noted, Spiro. But to extend citizenship to the foreigners among us
can often be expedient.”
Tessa could not see Spiro, his frame completely blocked by
the bulk of Glaucus beside her, but his voice poured like warm oil.
Yet underneath his smooth tones, Tessa heard the cold iron of anger. He was one of few among the strategoi to contradict Glaucus
publicly.
“Like-minded foreigners, perhaps,” Spiro said. “But the Jews
make it no secret that they despise our Greek ways. They disdain
even our proudest achievement, our Helios of the harbor. They
must be expunged, not embraced by weak-willed politicians who-”
Glaucus raised a pudgy hand. “You presume an authority not
yours, Spiro.”
“Only a matter of time, Glaucus.”
Glaucus snorted. “Again you presume. The people of this
island are too clever to choose seductive charm over solid leadership.”
Spiro laughed quietly. “Why, Glaucus, seductive charm? I
didn't realize you had noticed.”
Glaucus shook his head. “Perhaps the women are affected,
but it is the men who vote.”
Tessa sensed Spiro lean forward, his eyes now on her. “And
we both know where men find their opinions.”
Glaucus snorted again and swung his legs to the floor. It
took several tries to raise his ponderous body from the cushions.
“Get drunk, Spiro. Enjoy your delusions for one more night. But next
week I sail to Crete, and I expect them to fully support my efforts.”
He nudged Tessa with a sandaled toe. “Don't go anywhere. I will be
back.”
Tessa watched him leave the room, relief at his temporary
absence flooding her. She was to travel to Crete with him next
week, though she had no intention of ever stepping onto the ship.
The previously unseen Spiro slid to her couch now, an elbow
on the cushion Glaucus had just vacated. He was older than she,
perhaps thirty, clean-shaven like most of the others but wore his
jet-black hair longer, braided away from his face and falling just
above his shoulders. His eyes, deep set and darker than the night
sea, studied hers. A smile played at his lips. “What are you still doing
with that bore, Tessa? You could do better.”
“One slave master is as another. To have something better
is only to be free.” She was not truly Glaucus's slave in the usual
sense, and Spiro knew it, but it made little difference.
Spiro smiled fully now, and his gaze traveled from her eyes,
slowly down to her waist. He took liberties, but Tessa had long ago
become heedless of offense.
“That is what I like about you, Tessa. One never meets a hetaera
who speaks of freedom; they are resolved to their place. But
you are a woman like no other in Rhodes.”
“Why should I not be free?”
Spiro chuckled softly and inched closer. “Why, indeed? Ask
the gods, who make some women wives and give others as
slaves.” Spiro's hand skimmed the cushions and came to rest on
her thigh. “If you were mine, Tessa, I would treat you as the equal
you deserve to be. Glaucus acts as though he owns you, but we all
know he pays dearly for your favors. Perhaps it is you who owns
him.”
Spiro's fingers dug into her leg, and his eyes roamed her
face and body again. Tessa felt neither pleasure nor disgust, a reminder
that her heart had been cast from bronze. But a flicker of
fear challenged her composure. Spiro, she knew, was like one of
the mighty Median horses: raw power held in check, capable of
trampling the innocent if unleashed.
A shadow loomed above them, but Spiro did not remove his
hand. Instead, he arched a perfect eyebrow at Glaucus and smiled.
Tessa expected a flash of anger, but Glaucus laughed.
“First, you to think to rule the island, Spiro, and now you think
to steal Tessa from me, as though she has the free will to choose
whom she wants?” Spiro shrugged and moved to the next couch.
Glaucus plopped down between them again. “She will never be
yours, Spiro. Even when I am dead, her owner will only hand her to
the next man in line to have paid for her.” He waggled a finger at
Tessa. “She is worth waiting for, though, I can tell you.” Another
coarse laugh.
Something broke loose in Tessa then. Caused perhaps by
the vow taken while drinking in the sight of the harbor's bronze statue,
and the assurance that soon nothing she did now would hold
consequence for her. Or perhaps it was ten years of bondage, commemorated
this night with nothing more than continued abuse.
Whatever the reason, she rose to her feet. The room silenced, as
though a goddess had ascended a pedestal. She lifted her voice.
“May the gods deal with you as you have mistreated me,
Glaucus of Rhodes. I will have no part of you.”
Glaucus grabbed her arm. “Your heart is not in the festivities
tonight, my dear. I understand. I will meet you in the inner courtyard
later.”
He did this to save face, they both knew. Tessa wrenched
her arm free of his clutches, glanced at Spiro, and felt a chill at the
look in his eyes. She raised her chin and glided from the room.
In the hall outside the andrôn, she looked both directions.
She had no desire to stay, yet the world outside the house was no
more pleasant or safe for her. She turned from the front door and
moved deeper into the house.
The hallway opened to a courtyard, with rooms branching in
many directions. Along the back wall, a colonnaded walkway, its
roof covered with terra cotta tiles, stretched the length of the courtyard.
A large cistern gaped in the center. Beside it stood a large
birdcage; its lone inhabitant, a black mynah with an orange beak,
chirped in greeting.
Glaucus had said he would meet her here later, but from the
sounds of the laughter behind her, the party raged without her. She
should be safe for a few minutes at least. She crossed to the bird
she had adopted as her own and simply named Mynah. Tessa put
a finger through the iron bars and let Mynah peck a hello.
Her head throbbed, as it always did when she wore her hair
pulled back. She reached above her, found the pin that cinched her
dark ringlets together, and yanked it. Hair loosed and fell around
her, and she ran her fingers through it in relief.
A sharp intake of breath from across the room startled her.
She whirled at the sound. “Who's there?”
A soft voice in the darkness said, “I am sorry, mistress. I did
not mean to startle you.”
Tessa's heart grasped at the kindness and respect in the
voice, the first she had encountered this evening. She put a hand to
her unfastened hair. Somehow she still found it within herself to be
embarrassed by this small impropriety.
The man took hesitant steps toward her. “Are you ill, mistress?
Can I help you in some way?” He was clean-shaven and
quite tall, with a lanky build and craggy face, Glaucus's Jewish
head servant, Simeon.
“No, Simeon. No, I am not ill. Thank you.” She sank to a
bench.
The older man dipped his head and backed away.
Tessa reached out a hand. “Perhaps-perhaps some water?”
He smiled. “I'll only be a moment.”
She had disgraced Glaucus tonight, in spite of his effort to
laugh off her comments. How would he repay the damage she had
done him? His position as a strategos of the polis of Rhodes outranked
all other concerns in his life, and he would consider her disrespect
in the presence of other city leaders as treasonous.
In the three years since Glaucus had paid her owner the hetaera
price and she had become his full-time companion, they had
developed an unusual relationship. While he would not allow her to
forget that she was not free, he had also discovered her aptitude for
grasping the intricacies of politics, the maneuvering necessary to
keep Rhodes the strong trading nation that it was, and to maintain
Glaucus's hold on leadership within this democratic society. Power
was a game played shrewdly in Rhodes, as in all the Greek world,
and Glaucus had gained a competitive edge when he gained Tessa.
Rhodian society had declared her to be a rarity: beautiful,
brilliant, and enslaved. But the extent to which the decisions of the
city-state passed through her slave-bound fingers was unknown to
most. And in this she held a measure of power over Glaucus. She
recalled Spiro's astute comment earlier: Perhaps it is you who owns
him.
Simeon returned with a stone mug in his hands. He held it
out to her and covered her fingers with his own gnarled hand as
she reached for it. His eyes returned to her hair. “I-I have never
seen you with your hair down,” he said. He lowered his gray head
again but did not back away, and his voice was soft. “It is beautiful.”
Tessa tried to smile, but her heart retreated from the small
kindness. “Thank you.”
He didn't look up. “If you are not ill, Tessa, perhaps you
should return to the symposium. I should not like to see Glaucus
angry with you.”
Tessa exhaled. “Glaucus can wait.”
Another noise at the courtyard's edge. They both turned at
the rustle of fabric. A girl glided into the room, dressed in an elegant
yellow chitôn, her dark hair flowing around her shoulders. She
stopped suddenly when she saw them.
“Simeon? Tessa? What are you doing here?”
Simeon bent at the waist, his eyes on the floor. “The lady
was feeling ill. She requested water.” His eyes flicked up at Tessa,
their expression unreadable, and he left the room.
Tessa turned her attention to the girl, inhaling the resolve to
survive this encounter. At fourteen, Persephone hovered on the delicate
balance between girl and woman. Glowing pale skin framed
by dark hair gave her the look of an ivory doll, but it was her startlingly
blue eyes that drew one's attention. In recent months, as she

had gained understanding of Tessa's position in her father's life,
Persephone had grown more hostile toward her.
She raised her chin and studied Tessa. “Does my father
know you're out here?” Her tone contradicted the delicacy of her
features.
Tessa nodded.
“So he let his plaything out of her cage?”
Tessa's eyes closed in pity for the girl, whose mother had
abandoned her for the comfort of madness.
The girl flitted to where Mynah cheeped inside its bars. She
picked a leaf from a potted tree and held it out to the bird. “But who
am I to speak of cages?” she said. She raised her eyes to Tessa.
“We are all trapped here in some way. You. Me. Mother.”
“Cages can be escaped,” Tessa said, surprising herself. She
had never dared to offer Persephone wisdom, though her heart
ached for the girl.
Persephone turned toward her, studying her. “When you find
the key, let me know.”
“Tessa!” Glaucus's voice was thick with wine and demanding.
Tessa turned toward the doorway. The girl beside her took a
step backward.
“There you are,” he said. “I've sent them all away.” He waddled
toward them. “I am sick of their company.” He seemed to notice
the girl for the first time. “Persephone, why are you not in bed?
Get yourself to the women's quarters.”
Tessa could feel the hate course through the girl as if it were
her own body.
“I am not tired. I wished to see the stars.” She pointed upward.
Glaucus stood before them now, and he sneered. “Well, the
stars have no wish to see you. Remove yourself.”
“And will you say goodnight to Mother?” Persephone asked.
The words were spoken with sarcasm, tossed to Glaucus like raw
bait. Tessa silently cheered the girl's audacity.
Glaucus was not so kind. “Get out!”
“And leave you to your harlot?” Persephone said.
In a quick motion belying his obesity, Glaucus raised the
back of his hand to the girl and struck her against the face. She
reeled backward a step or two, her hand against her cheek.
Tessa moved between them. “Leave her alone!”
Glaucus turned on Tessa and laughed. “And when did you
two become friends?”
Persephone glared into her father's corpulent face. “I despise
you both,” she said.
Glaucus raised his arm again, his hand a fist this time, but
Tessa was faster. She caught the lowering arm by the wrist and
pushed it backward. Glaucus rocked back on his heels and turned
his hatred on her.
Tessa kept her eyes trained on Glaucus but spoke to the girl,
her voice low and commanding. “Go to bed, Persephone.” She
sensed the girl back away, heard her stomp from the room.
The anger on Glaucus's face melted into something else. A
chuckle, sickening in its condescension, rumbled from him.
“High-spirited is one thing, Tessa. But be careful you do not
go too far. Remember who keeps you in those fine clothes and
wraps your ankles and wrists in jewels. You are not your own.”
But I soon will be.
Glaucus reached for her, and she used her forearm to swat
him away like a noisome insect. “Don't touch me. Don't touch her.
Take your fat, drunken self out of here.”
The amusement on Glaucus's face played itself out. The anger
returned, but Tessa was ready.
Glaucus's words hissed between clenched teeth. “I don't
know what has come over you tonight, Tessa, but I will teach you
your place. You belong to me, body and spirit, and I will have you!”
His heavy hands clutched her shoulders, and his alcohol-soaked
breath blew hot in her face. Every part of Tessa's inner being rose
up to defend herself.
It would all end tonight.
... view entire excerpt...

Discussion Questions

1. In the end, Tessa's resolve to keep people at arm's length proves largely unsuccessful. Why do you think she is unable to remain disconnected?

2. When Hermes learns Tessa's secret, she must betray Persephone's trust in order to keep him quiet. How do you feel about Tessa's actions?

3. In what ways has reading Shadow of Colossus increased your knowledge of Ancient Greece? Did the author's depiction of Rhodes create a compelling setting for the story?

4. How is Tessa like the Colossus, and in what ways is she unlike it?

5. Nikos tells Tessa, “To be alive to love and alive to joy is to risk being hurt, to risk people failing you and disappointing you.” Do you agree with this statement? How have you seen this to be true or false in your own life?

6. How is the redemption that Simeon describes to Tessa different from what the Greek gods offer?

7. Simeon wants Tessa to understand that she desperately needs a Redeemer to rescue her from the degradation of sin, to pursue her with relentless love, and to free her heart. Is this only a “fairy-tale ending,” or can it be true for each of us?

8. Have you ever experienced an earthquake-like shift in your own thoughts or emotions or in your perspective on the world? Describe your experience.

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