Chapter 11

 

“You’re not Catholic, are you?” I said.

“Hmm?” The Abbot looked up, as if startled that I was there. He’d grown a faraway look in his eye, the same kind of expression I’d seen in soldiers who’d lost a brother-in-arms. The question immediately felt strangely out of place, as if I was intruding on something sacred, and asking for something grossly inappropriate.

“I’m sorry,” I instantly apologized.

“No, no. It’s fine. You want to know if I am Catholic.”

“I mean, I just assumed…”

“Yes. Assumptions are dangerous. I don’t think I can answer the question as you have phrased it. You mean to ask if I am Roman Catholic, as opposed to Protestant or Orthodox or Coptic or Nestorian or any of a hundred other divisions in the body of Christ. Would it shock you to learn that I recognize no such divisions? At the first, there were none. There was only one Church. The term Catholic means this, of course.”

“It means universal, or something, right?”

“It means there is only one Church. That is all our Lord recognizes. Roman Catholic is an oxymoron. The divisions in His body are like the scourge marks He suffered at the hands of sinners. They divide His flesh and bring about pain, and yet somehow, even through this, His grace shines through.” He sighed. “Why do you ask?”

I felt relief, because it went to the heart of my question. “Well, it’s just that you were talking about getting married as a bishop, and naturally, that is contrary to the Church’s teaching on celibacy.”

“This isn’t quite true, you realize. Even the Roman Catholic church has married priests. What they require, however, is that within the confines of a marriage, that their married priests remain celibate. It is unfortunate to require it, however, for it speaks against Paul’s words in First Corinthians chapter seven verse five. ‘Defraud not one another, except it be with consent for a time, that ye may give yourselves to fasting and prayer, and again come together, that Satan tempt you not.’”

“So you disagree with the Church’s teaching?”

“Rather, I agree with Saint Paul’s teaching. Husbands and wives ought not defraud one another of their conjugal rights. But to the matter of whether or not priests ought to marry at all, remember that at the time, I was quite conflicted on the matter. Paul gave his opinion that it would be better that men not marry at all, and in view of what he termed, ‘the present distress,’ he further advised against it. It did not take much to extrapolate a principle from those words—the very same principle that led, in fact, to the Church’s stance on celibacy. Marriage must be taken seriously, but so also must the commitment to serve the Church. And sometimes, those conflict. When they do, it is the marital commitment that takes precedence. This is why marriage was not encouraged for the priests or bishops, so that they could give their full attention and devotion to the cause of Christ.

“All this weighed on my mind with my uncle’s suggestion. I knew he would not lead me astray, and certainly there was a sense in which he was attempting to prevent me from incurring the same regrets he himself experienced. But I can hardly fault him for that.”

“So did you marry her?”

A half grin tugged at his mouth. “Let me tell you the story.”

 

***

That night, Nicholas led the congregation through evening worship, saying the words by rote and hoping he did not err too much or too noticeably. Both Johanna and his uncle were in the congregation, sitting on the left in the back, their eyes affixed on him throughout the liturgy in such a way that it became impossible for him to look in their direction for fear that he would break into a blush or a cold sweat, stumble on his words and forget himself before them all.

When it came time to serve the Eucharist, they both took their place in line as he distributed the bread and wine. Person by person they approached, until at last Johanna herself stood before him, carefully watching him with the deep wells of her brown eyes. He felt lost in them, and as he lifted the wafer to her lips, he could sense what it would be to feel her lips on his fingertips, the heat that would flood through him. For a brief moment, he felt as though he would drop everything then and there and take her in his arms, pressing his lips to her own and declaring quite publicly his love for her.

A sudden intake of breath, and he realized he was still there, still holding the wafer, while she waited before him with her mouth slightly open. His uncle cleared his throat.

Quickly, he recovered himself and placed the wafer on her tongue. She closed her lips and moved on, and his uncle took her spot. Uncle Nicholas measured him with his eyes. He swiftly passed the wafer and moved on.

After wrapping up the service and returning everything to its place, he went out to stand by the door, ready to receive his parishioners. His uncle and Johanna came out together, near the front of the line. “I need to talk with you,” he said to her. “Will you wait for me?”

“It is late.”

“On the morrow, then?”

“We are starting back tomorrow. Best to get an early start.”

His heart fell. Was this the Lord’s will? To bring him to the edge of giving in, and then withdraw the temptation? It did not seem right. “Please,” he persisted. “It won’t take long.”

His uncle broke in. “I think we can spare a few moments.”

“All right,” Johanna answered, and tipped her head to one side. “I will see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes. Yes, I look forward to it.”

His uncle rolled his eyes, took Johanna’s elbow, and steered her away. Nick watched them go, and then turned back to the rest of his congregation. As he greeted the rest, he noticed a young man hurrying toward them up the path.

“Bishop!” the man cried. “A ship!”

Nick turned to the young man, caught him and held him by his shoulders as he struggled to catch his breath. “Darius, did you run the entire way from the docks?’

“Aye,” he nodded, his hand on his chest. “I did.”

“A ship, you say? What of it?”

“A grain ship. Has put into port here. The captain is asking for you.”

Nick dropped his hands. “A grain ship?” Without a second glance at Darius or the rest of his congregants, he hurried past the man, running full stride down the path toward the docks, his vestments flying about him. When he reached the harbor, he caught his breath and his heart soared. The ship was The Hatmehit. He hurried toward the dock.

“Hoy there!” he called. “Is Qennios still Captain aboard this vessel?”

A moment later, a grizzled face appeared over the gunwales. “Who’s asking?”

Nicholas stared up at the care-worn face of his former companion. “Is that you? You old sea-dog!”

“Young Nicholas of Patara? As I live and breathe! Come, come aboard!”

Nicholas hurried toward the gangplank and ascended to the ship. When he stepped onto the deck he was thrust into a quick and hearty hug by the Captain. “I never thought I’d see the day when our paths should cross,” Qennios said. “But here you are, as plain as day and looking fatter and healthier than ever. And what’s this? You wear the robes of a bishop now?”

“Yes, it is true,” Nicholas replied.

“Has it been so long?”

“Nay,” he laughed. “They ordained me just weeks ago. An answered prayer, if you can believe it.”

“Aye. I could believe that.”

“Personally, I think they ought to have prayed harder. I’m sure God could have found someone far better for the job.”

“And that I could not believe.”

“Are any of your old crew here? I’d love to see them again.”

“Ah, sadly no. A few are, to be sure, but none of those who took to your faith. I left them in Alexandria.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

Qennios grimaced. “It, ah, it became too dangerous to sail with them.”

“Dangerous? They are not violent men.”

“Nay. That is true. Your God did a number on them on that account. How can I put this delicately?”

Nick put a hand on the Captain’s shoulder. “Bluntly would be preferred.”

“Hmm. The world has grown a dangerous place for Christians. And for those who harbor them.”

“Why? The edict still stands. We are still tolerated throughout the Empire.”

“There are rumors that is changing. Surely you have heard such.”

“I have, but I think them only rumors.”

“Were it that easy. Many of those who crew with me would not take kindly to berths given to those that bear the name of Christ. They would say I was taking work away from more qualified men. Some of them make a sport of trying to coax their fellow seamen who call on your God into a fight, tormenting them with beatings and other insults. They call it cheek-turning.”

Nick felt his face grow hot. “I should think these men, rather than those of faith, would be less qualified to serve aboard your ship.”

“Aye. ‘Tis true, ‘tis true. But you must understand, a vessel captained and crewed by naught but Christians would make a tempting target for pirates and could easily be seized by governors or other provincial rulers eager to make a positive impression on Rome. It came down to a matter of keeping my ship, and keeping peace aboard it.”

Nick frowned. “Qennios, those who make a friend of the world make themselves an enemy of God.”

“Oh Nicky. I was hoping you’d understand.”

“I do understand. You chose money over principle.”

Qennios glared at him. “I chose life over death. I thought you’d understand that. Even your God should understand that.”

Nick shook his head. “Forgive me. I-I’m upset by the whole thing. My fight is between me and the Emperor. You got caught in the middle.”

Qennios snorted. “You want to take on the Emperor?”

“No. I simply want him to leave us alone.”

“Pity. I’m beginning to think you’re the only one who’s man enough to do it.”

“Pray that we never find out.”

They shared a laugh, and for a moment Nick simply enjoyed the feeling of the sturdy wooden deck beneath his feet, the way the ship rocked gently on the surface of the waters. Then he glanced up the hillside at his town. “I mean to ask you something. Your cargo. Where is it bound?”

“Alexandria. We’ve just come from Italy, and are putting in here at Andriaki harbor before heading south.”

“I see. How many ships are with you?”

“Five.”

“Qennios, the people of Myra—my people—there’s just no easy way to put this. Our situation is desperate. Plague and famine have ravaged our town. Many are near starving. I want you to sell me some of your grain. I have gold. I can give you a fair price.”

Qennoios grimaced. “Nicholas, as much as I would like to help, I cannot. The wheat we carry is meted and measured. It is meant for the Emperor’s garrison at Alexandria. I must deliver all of it, or I shall have to answer for the shortage.”

Nicholas reached into his pocket and brought out the gold that Johanna had given him back. Her dowry. It seemed he would need it after all. He held it out to the Captain. “Please. You know me well. I will not treat you unfairly, nor falsely. We need this grain.”

Qennios stared at the sack of gold. “The grain is measured. What am I to do?”

“Sell it to us. Trust me.” He took hold of Qennios’ hand and placed it over the sack of gold. “Trust my God. When you arrive in Alexandria, you will have no problems.”

Qennios shook his head. “That is not possible.”

“Neither is bringing a man back from the dead. One hundred bushels from each ship. No more. No less. You will have the gold, and you will make your delivery with a full cargo. I assure you this is true.”

“So your God is the God of bread, too?”

Nick grinned. “He once fed five thousand people on five loaves and two fish, with enough left over afterward to take up twelve basketfuls.”

“Did He indeed?”

“Aye. And He Himself raised the dead many times.”

After a moment, Qennios nodded. “All right. I cannot believe I’m doing this, but for the sake of Marcus, and for the changed lives of my former crew, I will do as you ask.”

“The Lord bless you and keep you, and make His face shine upon you, and give you peace.”

“Aye. I hope that He does.” With that, he turned and gave the command.

 

***

“So what happened?” I asked.

“They unloaded the grain as they said. Five hundred bushels of wheat. The town of Myra fed on that grain for two whole years, with enough left over to plant seed and harvest when the drought finally stopped.”

“And what about the ship? The Hatmehit?”

“Oh, I never saw her again. They left the next morning, caught a favorable wind, and headed straight for Egypt. I did learn later that the grain was supplied within their holds exactly as I said it would be. And for that miracle, Qennios gave his life to God.”

“Incredible.”

“But true. And so, you see, that answers the real question. Without the gold, I could not have bought the grain to feed the town. Without Johanna giving it to me as her dowry, I would not have been able to do anything at all. And so, her coming to me was of the Lord. Her love for me saved our town. Saved Qennios’s soul. And that is why I had to marry her. Besides, I couldn’t pay back the money!”