She said haughtily, “If I report you, I lose the money!”

“I would try to arrange it so that half of it goes to you in the event of our arrest, or death. The other half to Rachel’s guardian, who will be Simon. But bear in mind that it’s very likely Caligula would take all of it, if anyone discovers it belonged to me.”

Now Megara looked baffled, as though he had displayed some lunacy. “Why would you do that?”

Paulus shook his head. “I’m trying to do the right thing, Megara. You make it very difficult.”

She stared at him; he could almost see her thoughts racing. Then she looked warily at Alysia, who had stepped away from Paulus and was standing in front of the window, the breeze catching her hair and the edges of her gown. Megara watched as Paulus’ eyes went to his wife, and saw in them a look that she couldn’t define. She only knew he’d never looked at her that way. Well, Alysia didn’t seem so happy now…perhaps now their marriage would not be such rapture and bliss!

“It will be pleasant to hold your lives in my hands,” she said. “I won’t betray you…yet.”

***

Megara left after obtaining her draft to the banker, joining her slave, Tertius, who waited in a small carriage just over the incline. Simon followed soon afterward. Alysia went into Rachel’s room, but her daughter had already put out the lamp and gone to sleep…at least she seemed to be asleep. Alysia wondered how much she had heard.

Paulus had lit a lamp in their bedroom and extinguished the ones in the hallway. He followed her inside and closed the door. The light flickered over the furnishings…the large, comfortable bed, the wooden chests, the couch against one wall, the writing table and chair.

Alysia walked to the far end of the room and turned to face him. He saw that, in spite of the warmth, she was shivering.

“I’m truly sorry,” he said at once, wondering why she looked so stricken…like a mortally wounded doe. “I’m sorry that she came and brought this trouble upon us. But I don’t believe she will tell anyone. She needs that money and she knows there’s a good chance she won’t get any of it if anything happens to us.”

“Paulus, are we really married?”

He stared at her. “Of course we’re married! You heard what I told Megara.”

“Then you are divorced.”

The word hung in the air between them. After a moment of stunned disbelief, he walked toward her and grabbed her arm. “Listen to me,” he said sharply. “Once before you tried to make this a stumbling block between us when it wasn’t necessary. I don’t mean Megara herself. I mean what you perceive to be our appearance before others. We believed Megara was dead, and had no reason to even suspect otherwise. We explained this to our friends. If any of them are so weak as to let this affect their faith, then that is their problem, not ours!”

“But some are weak! Can you not have compassion for them?”

“Of course I can—it tears me apart to think what Megara did to them. I keep thinking about Horatius’ daughter-in-law, and how she might have been close to believing. If she sees us as hypocrites, it could stop her and turn her against the faith, and prevent her from ever listening to anyone else. But that’s just an excuse, Alysia. If such a shallow thing as the behavior of someone else could affect a person’s decision—then they are just looking for something to justify themselves! They’re not really seeking the truth.”

“How can you not be angry with Megara? What she did is unforgivable!”

“I am furious with her—and I said some things I shouldn’t have. But I will forgive her, because if I don’t, I only harm myself.”

Alysia slowly removed her arm from his grasp.

He said quietly, “I would never deliberately do anything to cause someone to stumble in their faith, Alysia. But this we cannot help. It’s done. Just pray for those in our charge, and trust God to help them understand.”

“Maybe we should be serving God in some other way, Paulus. “

“You mean where we don’t have to prove ourselves worthy? Well, there are none worthy, Alysia. None. We have both felt the call of God on our lives to do this, and if this is to be your attitude, you’ll wallow in misery for the rest of your life.”

She didn’t answer.

“I’m going for a walk,” he said.

 

 

 

CHAPTER VIII

 

Rachel shifted impatiently, waiting at the back of the house for her father. She was dressed in the dark blue, knee-length tunic she always wore for archery practice. She pulled experimentally on the string of the bow her father had made for her; she picked up the quiver made of leather and adjusted it around her shoulder and back. She needed more arrows…these were getting dull, but she seldom asked for anything. Her father would notice, and would either sharpen them or make new ones. The bedroom door opened and Paulus came out. There was a worried frown on his face that she hadn’t seen in a long time, but it smoothed out at once when he saw her.

“Ready?” he asked, smiling. “Have you eaten breakfast?”

“Let’s wait until we get back. Where’s Mother?”

“Still sleeping. Have you got everything? Where are your arm bands?”

She grabbed the pouch lying on a table as Paulus collected his own bow and quiver full of arrows. She almost skipped with glee as they left the house and started through the woods. She’d been afraid it was going to rain, and ruin their day, but it held off and once in a while a white shaft of sunlight would pierce through the clouds. She looked forward to the time she spent with her father, and he was always generous with his time, never acting hurried or distracted—no matter how busy he was.

Rachel had overheard enough over the years to know that her mother and father had not always been together; she knew that her mother had been married before, and that her husband had died. But Paulus had been there from her earliest memories—strong, loving, and to her…fearless, all knowing, invincible. He had been a soldier in the Roman army—but she was not to tell that to anyone. Sometimes she thought she came close to idolizing him, and then she would pray very hard, because God’s first commandment was against idolatry. Once she had heard Paulus say to someone that a father’s behavior often influenced the way their children viewed God, so maybe that was why she loved God so much.

She loved her mother very much, too, and in spite of having lived what could only be called an “insecure” life, she felt remarkably secure and protected. Her parents did not live in fear, but they were ever watchful, and they had tried hard to make her life as normal as possible. Alysia and Paulus had taught her lessons because she couldn’t be in school, they allowed her to have friends and to visit them, they encouraged her talents at drawing and playing the lyre. Although she was much better at drawing than playing the lyre—she only did that because her mother wanted her to.

And recently her father had decided to teach her how to use a bow and arrow, because he said that it was important for people to be able to hunt and fend for themselves if the need should ever arise. Rachel was positive she would never be able to kill an animal, but she did enjoy shooting the trees!

They came to a small clearing edged all around with oak trees. The nearest one had a huge trunk, and Paulus had gouged out a hole in its center. He’d done the same with smaller trees here and there, to give her a sense of varying distances. They tied on their arm bands and Rachel watched carefully as Paulus took one shot, studying his stance…the steadiness of his drawing hand, the way he used his shoulder and back rather than his arm to draw the string taut, the relaxing of his fingers as they sent the arrow flying to meet its mark.

“After you practice a few times,” he told her, “I’m going to teach you how to shoot while you’re kneeling.” He held one of her arrows out before him, examining it from the feather at one end to the point at the other. “You need some new ones,” he observed. “This one’s warped. Let me look at your bow.”

When he was satisfied that her equipment was safe to use, he stood back and watched, retrieved her arrows and watched some more, now and then quietly correcting something she was doing wrong. Then he showed her how to go down on one knee, keeping her leg straight out behind her but positioning her upper body as if she were still standing up.

“You’re doing very well, Rachel,” he said, and she felt happy because she knew he only gave praise when it was deserved. “Now I want you to stand again and shoot at all the trees we marked, both high and low.”

Rachel was getting very tired but she did as he instructed, and then finally he said they could rest a while before they walked home. She sank down thankfully on the grassy clearing, and he sat cross-legged next to her. He wasn’t himself today, she thought. He’d hardly practiced at all, and his mind seemed to be a hundred miles away.

“We forgot the water jug,” she said, lifting her long hair away from her neck. She pulled one of the laces out of an armband and tied back her hair, then busied herself putting the bands back in their pouch. “Father, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

She had his full attention at once. “Yes, Rachel?”

“I didn’t tell Mother, but when we were in Bethany, one of the neighbors was visiting Martha, and she said ‘That child doesn’t look anything like her father’. And everybody has always said I look like you. And Martha had the strangest look on her face. I thought she was going to cry!”

Now her father had a strange look on his face.

“Why do you think she said that?”

“Maybe she was thinking about Nathan, your mother’s first husband. But she’s wrong, you know.” He grinned at her. “You do look like your father, and that’s definitely me.”

She smiled back at him, and then he became serious again. He said slowly, “There are some things I want to talk to you about, Rachel. You’re too young to understand some of them, and I’ll not speak of them now. But if you ever hear things, whether it’s here, or in Bethany, or anywhere…that you don’t understand, I want you to feel free to come to your mother and me, and tell us. I know you must be wondering about that woman last night, the one who wore the veil and started asking questions.”

Rachel’s blue-green eyes met his. “Yes, sir.”

“You’ve heard us speak of my first wife, who died. It so happens that—she didn’t die, after all.”

Rachel gaped at him. “You mean that was her?”

He nodded. “Yes. You know that suicide is very common here. She pretended to kill herself and managed to fool everyone. She was afraid of the emperor, and she moved to another city. But when she heard I was in Rome she came back—to cause trouble. She hates me, and Alysia. It’s a long story, Rachel…and it’s not entirely her fault.”

“But, how can you be married to two people?”

“I’m not. Your mother and I believed Megara was dead when we married. And so, I am divorced from Megara.”

“Oh.”

“Divorce is when you are no longer married to someone. Although God says that is wrong. There is an acceptable reason…but…” Paulus stopped, suddenly at a loss. “I think it’s time your mother had a certain talk with you.”

“About what?”

“About…life.”

She looked at him, mystified.

“Darling, why did you choose those verses you recited last night—out of all the ones you might have chosen?”

Rachel tried to think back. “Oh, I don’t know. The main one I wanted to say was the one about having courage, and waiting on the Lord. But then it was as if the Lord told me to say the ones before that, too.”

“I see. Do you think your mother and I are going to leave you?”

“Oh, no, Father! I didn’t mean to make it seem like that!”

Paulus reached out and took one of her hands. “Listen to me, Rachel. All your life you’ve known that there are soldiers looking for your mother and me. Now I’m going to tell you why. Your mother, when she was very young, was attacked by a man who meant her great harm, and she defended herself with a sword and killed him. I’m sure she didn’t mean to kill him—only to stop him—but a sword is a very dangerous thing. At the time she was a slave…we’ve told you about that. And the man’s father was a man of wealth and influence. She would have been executed for that, Rachel. I helped her escape.”

Rachel absorbed it all silently, her eyes wide.

“I believe it’s acceptable to kill someone who is trying to kill you, or harm you. So never think your mother did some horrible thing. She only defended herself.”

“Yes, sir. I don’t blame Mother for that!”

“All these years they’ve been looking for her, and they know now that she’s been with me. So they are looking for both of us. God has protected us so far, Rachel, but he has a purpose for everything, and we don’t know what lies in the future. Your mother and I would give our lives to protect you, so you must never feel guilty if anything like that happens. We would have it no other way.”

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said gently. “We will take every precaution, but we will trust in the Lord, no matter what happens. You do, don’t you?”

She nodded, unable to speak. He reached out for her, and she got up on her knees and put her arms around his neck. He held her tightly for a moment, and released her. “Look, Rachel,” he said very quietly, pointing across to the other side of the field. “How about stew for supper?”

She looked up and saw the rabbit, sitting still at the edge of the woods and seeming to watch them out of one large brown eye. She knew what her father was going to say.

“I can’t do it,” she murmured, hating to disappoint him. “Not yet.”

He reached slowly for his bow and withdrew an arrow from the sling on his back, and raised up on one knee. Rachel watched him as he took careful aim…then she closed her eyes.

* * *

“Never mind,” Paulus said as they walked home; he put one arm around her shoulders and smiled down at her. In his other hand he carried his bow and the dangling rabbit by its hind legs. “Maybe you’ll never have to.”

“I think I could shoot a man quicker than I could an animal,” she told him, as though giving away a confidence. “One that was trying to hurt me, I mean.”

His voice changed, became taut. “I pray you’ll never have to do that, either.”

After a moment she said, “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“It’s just that—little animals seem so innocent. It’s always bothered me…how the Jews have to sacrifice lambs and things.”

“That was because God wanted people to understand how serious sin is—and how only the shedding of blood can atone for it,” her father said, “and to foretell what Jesus would do, on the cross.”

“Paid—in full,” Rachel said, with a touch of awe. “You heard him say that!”

She’d already been told about that day. Paulus, commanding officer of the Roman fort in Jerusalem, had refused to take part in the execution of Jesus of Nazareth. It had been carried out by the governor, Pontius Pilate, and the contingent he brought from Caesarea. But Paulus had been present when Jesus died. Both of her parents had seen Jesus alive afterward.

“Mother says that Jesus held me when I was a baby—the last time he came to Bethany,” Rachel said. “I wish I could remember.”

Paulus didn’t answer. She knew he didn’t like to talk about the crucifixion. It seemed to pain him greatly that he didn’t do anything to stop it…though there was nothing he could have done. At the time he hadn’t understood that what was happening…was supposed to happen. When he didn’t speak, she looked up at him.

“What can I do to make Mother feel better?”

He smiled again and squeezed her shoulder. “It makes her happy when you practice your music. And you have a very pleasant singing voice, you know.”

Rachel refrained from rolling her eyes. “I’m not any good with the lyre.”

“You are good enough, and if you would practice you’d be even better.”

Rachel sighed. “Yes. Father.”

* * *

It was a rare occurrence, but Alysia had cried until she fell asleep the night before, not knowing when Paulus returned from his long walk. When she woke he was gone, and on the pillow next to her lay a single, wild rose, a dusky shade of pink, beautifully formed. “Paulus,” she whispered, and carried it with her into the kitchen to place it in a vase. She returned to the bedroom to dress, and twined her hair into a thick black braid that hung to her waist. She straightened the room and went back to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast.

She knew Paulus was right…right in giving Megara money, as due a former wife, and right in everything he had said. Alysia had allowed her anger with Megara to transfer itself to him, because she had wanted him to throw his former wife out of the house, and he hadn’t done so. Now she was glad he hadn’t, and reflected that she might as well turn her indignation into pity and be done with it. Nursing ill feelings would only harm herself, and that was what Megara wanted.

She walked outside to draw water from the well, looking down the path she knew Paulus and Rachel had taken. It was their day for archery practice. Paulus had taught Alysia to shoot with a bow and arrow years ago, but she seldom went with her husband and daughter, letting them enjoy their time alone. Glancing at the cloud-laden sky, she went back into the house, lit the oven and began boiling eggs; she set out wheat bread and cheese and fruit. She poured water into the vase with the rose, and placed it in the center of the table.

She heard them as they approached the house, and going to the window saw Paulus lay something, a rabbit perhaps, on a large block of wood; he withdrew his hunting knife from its sheath and drove its blade into the wood as he followed Rachel toward the house. Good, she would keep the oven lit and let the stew simmer for hours…it would be a welcome change from the vegetables they ate every day.

“How did it go?” she asked, as Rachel came inside.

“It was good…you should have come with us, Mother.”

Alysia lifted her head and met Paulus’ solemn gaze. Without hesitation, she went to him and put her arms around his waist.

“I was wrong,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Rachel ducked her head and hurried to her room to put her things away…but she was smiling.

* * *

Livias stared at the sketch before him. It was a good likeness of Paulus Valerius, drawn by a soldier who had known him well. Petronius had found the soldier, skilled at drawing and who hadn’t minded providing the sketch for a hefty sum. Livias wasn’t sure just yet how he was going to use it; he had to proceed carefully, lest word get to Valerius that he was being actively pursued. His inclination was to approach people who lived in the east and northeast regions of Rome and ask them if they had seen anyone who resembled the man in the drawing. Still, he would have to be careful not to arouse suspicion. He would also give a description of the woman…he had no drawing of her and no one knew what she looked like—except Valerius’ family, who all claimed they couldn’t remember any details except for the black hair and violet eyes.

If he had no success he’d move on to the other sections of the city…but he had a feeling. Paulus Valerius was somewhere near. He might be living beneath the very nose of the emperor…a good place to hide because few would think to look for him there. It seemed strange, though, that he didn’t flee far into the country. He had to have a reason for wanting to live in Rome. That reason could be employment. What sort of employment would he seek? According to his reputation he had excelled at everything Tiberius, or Sejanus actually, had assigned to him…but that involved both the military and administration, and he wouldn’t be looking for those kinds of positions. He was probably doing manual labor somewhere, perhaps working on construction projects.

The woman might be working in a shop, although that was unlikely. She probably stayed at home with the child. The child would be left an orphan; she’d have to be sold as a slave…or something. Livias didn’t trouble himself about such details. And it was too bad that sly Egyptian had suspected he was being followed and had stopped going out at all. He’d been questioned, but it was difficult to get anything out of him. He answered in phrases Livias found all but incomprehensible, pretending to understand very little Greek or Latin, and he stared at Livias with such an enigmatic black gaze that he feared some strange Egyptian curse was being heaped upon his head. The other servants had not been helpful, nor had Valerius’ family…but that was to be expected. Besides, the man wouldn’t put them in jeopardy by attempting to contact them.

Livias had tried to trace the money he knew Valerius had possessed, but that had disappeared, probably placed under another name long ago. Or he had hidden it somewhere, to stop the Treasury from confiscating it. His wife had been dead for years, so she couldn’t have taken it. Livias would try to pick up the trail if all else failed, but he hadn’t time for that right now.

He slid the rough sheet of papyrus inside the front of his tunic and headed for the streets. His dark eyes gleamed with the thrill of the hunt. Paulus Valerius would be a rare prize indeed, to add to his list of achievements.

 

 

 

CHAPTER IX

 

Paulus stopped, sure that he recognized the woman walking some distance in front of him, after she had tossed a glance over her shoulder. She had a distinctive walk, with her shoulders thrown back and her nose in the air, her gait quick and carefree. The woman was fashionably dressed, perhaps too fashionably, in a bright red stola and a more than ample number of bracelets and necklaces. He thought she had seen him and had deliberately increased her pace, although he did, as usual, have on the hooded robe.

He started walking again and in a moment overtook her. “Hello, Daphne,” he said, falling into stride with her.

The young woman was beautiful, with large, almond-shaped black eyes framed by upward-slanting brows. High cheekbones emphasized her shapely, full lips, and a nose that was slightly pointed at the end, with small, flared nostrils. Her abundant, dark brown hair was threaded with deep veins of gold…and with jewelry. The olive tone of her skin made her teeth, in contrast, seem very white.

She feigned surprise. “Oh, it’s you, Antonius,” she said, in a voice mature for her years. “I couldn’t quite see who you were. Why are you dressed like that on such a hot day?”

“It’s not so hot—yet. We’ve been missing you at the meetings.”

She looked away. “I’ve had—things to do.”

Paulus was a little alarmed by her answer, and her demeanor. “Let’s stop by the fountain, if you don’t mind. I’d like to talk to you.”

She gave a slight nod. The street widened to become an arcade of shops, with a fountain splashing in its center. A number of stone benches were spaced around it, but Paulus drew her into the shade of a canopy whose owner had apparently not yet opened for business.

“Daphne, is anything wrong?” he asked, looking down into her face.

She didn’t reply for a moment, then bit her lip and said, “Well, you’ll hear sooner or later. I’m no longer working for Gallus and his wife, and I don’t think I’ll be coming to any more meetings.”

Now he was deeply concerned. When he and Alysia had talked to Daphne on the street and she had consented to come to their meetings, she had been open to the word of God. Paulus had talked to some friends who had agreed to hire her as a servant in their household, so she could quit her former profession.

“Look at me, Daphne,” he said, and reluctantly she lifted her gaze. “Have you gone back to prostitution?”

“It’s all I know!” she said in a rush, her eyes pleading and probing into his. “That is, not yet, but I intend to. It’s too hard, being a servant. I drop things, I can’t do anything right. Oh, they were nice enough, Gallus and Lydia, but it wasn’t working out. I’m sorry you went to the trouble, Antonius.”

“There’s more, isn’t there? Tell me.”

Daphne looked around the arcade as though hoping someone would come to her rescue. Passersby gave them barely a glance; she was obviously a harlot trying to elicit some business this fine morning, the first day of August…although usually prostitutes didn’t appear until sometime after the noon hour.

“Why did you stop coming to the meetings?” Paulus asked quietly.

“Because—they can’t let me forget! I know people, Antonius. I see the speculation in the eyes of the men…what has she done, how did she do it? Either men look at me the wrong way, or they won’t look at me at all, as if I might corrupt them somehow.”

“I think you imagine these things, Daphne. Do I look at you that way?”

“No,” she said irritably. “But others do. And their wives don’t trust me—I can see that as well. I know I’m a beautiful woman—I can’t help that. Perhaps they are right not to trust me.”

“You don’t mean that, if you have changed your life.”

“I haven’t changed. I’ve tried, and I cannot.”

“Daphne, Jesus is the one who changes you, on the inside, and then enables you to change your feelings, and your behavior. You almost believed that. Why do you resist him?”

“What you said about him—about his dying on the cross to take the punishment for sin—moved me very deeply. I began to hope, but—” she stopped and shook her head. “I could never explain it to you.”

“Could you explain it to my wife?”

“No. She wouldn’t understand, either.”

“I wish you would go and talk to her. Camillus’ father is dying and they’ve asked me to come, or I would take you there myself. Alysia is at home alone today. Rachel has gone to visit a friend.” Paulus hesitated as a thought struck him. “We’ve decided to go and spend some time at Horatius’ villa in the country. Why don’t you go with us? That will give you time to think about things. We won’t try to make you do something you don’t want to do, Daphne. But it might help you. Please, before you go through with this decision you’ve made. You don’t realize how important it is.”

Daphne looked into his face, and her own softened. “Perhaps I will.”

“Go ahead and pack if you like, and take your things to my house. We’re leaving in a day or two…you can stay with us until then.”

She smiled. “You remind me of a few soldiers I know. You’re quite good at giving orders.”

“I used to be,” he said, and smiled back at her. “A long time ago. In my former life.”

* * *

Camillus’ father lived in a modest house on the Aventine Hill. A wealthy man, he adhered to the “old style” of simple accommodations and scorned anything overtly luxurious, which the “new Romans” loved. He was also a stern man, not given to displays of affection, and he and his son had never been close. But Camillus was there, with Lucia and their children, as Avitus began to breathe his last.

Paulus shed his light cloak as he entered the vestibule, where the family and friends had gathered. He nodded when he saw Simon and Aquila, with a few others, and took Lucia’s hands in his.

“Camillus is with him,” she said quietly. “He is pleading with his father to receive the Lord. Our friends here have been praying for him. Please go in at once, before it’s too late.”

Paulus went into the room she indicated, where the shutters had been closed at the windows and the small bed in the corner was shrouded in gloom. A pungent odor of medicines came from a table near the bed. Camillus sat in a chair beside it. Paulus went to the chair on the opposite side, feeling the oppressive warmth, and sensing, in his spirit, the stubborn resistance of the dying man.

Camillus looked at him helplessly. His father, gray-haired and gray-bearded, moved only his eyes toward Paulus.

“I had a feeling you would come, Antonius,” he said hoarsely, drawing his breath with difficulty. “My son has been harassing me about this Nazarene of yours. I am sure you have already told me everything you know. There is nothing more to say.”

“I have only one thing to say, sir. And that is when your soul leaves your body it will go to one of two places. To be forever with God, or to be forever separated from him in a place of torment, reserved for those who refuse to accept his son as savior, the one who paid for their sins.”

“Rubbish! I have lived a good life. I have given to the poor. What more would the gods ask of me?”

“There is but one God,” Paulus answered, silently praying for the right words. “The God who created the world, and you…the holy and just God who must punish sin. Avitus, have you ever told a lie, have you ever stolen anything, have you ever hated a man, dishonored your parents…have you ever lusted after a woman?”

The old man lay still for a long time. Then a low, rasping laugh came from his throat. “Perhaps I have done those things, but I have done many good deeds. This God you speak of is too severe, Antonius. What great harm have I ever done to anyone?”

Paulus leaned forward, his tone quiet and earnest. “The sins we commit show the condition of our hearts, Avitus. Would you call your heart pure? Would you call yourself perfect?”

“Of course not!”

“Then how do you expect to go into the presence of a perfect and holy God, who by his very nature demands justice?”

“Perhaps there is no such God!”

“You know there is. The knowledge of him was in you from the day you were born, Avitus, and you have suppressed it. Just as your pride won’t allow you to admit you are a sinner, and just as your intellect does not want to accept so simple a fact that one man could die and rise again, and justify you in the eyes of God.”

“It is enough!” the old man said heavily. “This man you told me of, this Jesus of Nazareth, is just a dead Jew who was rumored to come alive again. What can he have to do with me? I am a Roman, and I will die as befitting a Roman.”

His son said miserably, “My father, I beg you, do not let your pride send you to hell!”

Again the man fell silent, and Paulus could feel the great struggle in the room, unseen by human eyes, a struggle in the realm of spirit between good and evil. He bowed his head and prayed, but he knew it was too late.

“Leave me,” Avitus said. But neither of them moved, and Paulus wondered to whom he was actually speaking, for his eyes had a strange and faraway look…suddenly, though, they were flat, and fixed, and his spirit was gone.

Camillus leaned his elbows on the bed, put his hands over his face, and wept. Paulus sat for a long time, filled with despair and a crushing sense of failure. Finally he rose and walked across the room to lay his hand for a moment on Camillus’ shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“He chose it,” Camillus answered. “He had his own way. He always did.”

When Paulus left the room everyone waiting in the hallway looked at him expectantly. He shook his head, and Lucia began crying softly. He embraced her, and with a heavy heart, left the house.

* * *

Alysia drew the bucket from the well, poured the water into a jug, and walked to the front of the house where she had planted a bed of flowers. She poured the water over them and wondered what would happen to them while she and Paulus and Rachel were away—there had been very little rain lately.

It still didn’t seem possible that they were actually going to Horatius’ villa for a short while; she’d thought, after all that had happened since her return from Bethany, that they’d never be able to leave Rome again. But Horatius had approached Paulus the night of Megara’s visit and proposed that they do just that…they needed to get away as a family, Horatius said, and he was convinced that God had put the idea into his head.

Major work had ceased on the aqueduct for a while; it seemed that extreme heat prevented proper absorption of the mortar used in its construction. A few crews remained to do odd jobs, and Paulus had made an agreement with the contractor to oversee some things as soon as he returned. Aquila and Priscilla offered to hold meetings at their own house, so that problem was solved. Alysia’s students would have a short respite from their lessons.

As for the risk in passing through the gate when they left Rome, Horatius insisted they use his own carriage, and said if they passed through the Porta Capena the guards there would recognize it, and probably not even glance inside due to the heaviness of traffic on the Appian Way. And, he said, they would just have to trust God. She and Paulus had prayed long hours over it, and both felt that, for whatever reason, this was indeed what God wanted them to do.

Alysia couldn’t help smiling with anticipation. She poured out the last of the water and was about to return to the well when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned quickly and saw a lithe figure in a bright red gown sauntering down the lane toward her.

“Daphne!” she said, as the young woman drew closer. “How good it is to see you. We’ve been missing you!”

“Hello, Alysia.” Daphne was sweating; she sat down abruptly on a stair leading to the small, brick portico. Even in her disheveled state she looked beautiful and appealing; Alysia glanced self-consciously at the mud staining the old gown she wore to work outside.

“Oh, it is sweltering—how can you stand it out here in the sun, Alysia?”

“Come inside and let me get you something to drink.”

“In a moment, if you please. You see I’ve brought my bag. Your husband asked me to come and stay for a while.”

Alysia managed to hide her surprise, and noticed the way Daphne glanced at her from underneath her long black lashes. She seemed to be waiting for Alysia’s response.

“Of course, Daphne. We’ll be happy to have you here. May I ask, is anything wrong?”

“Well, Antonius got it out of me. I’ve left the family he convinced to hire me, and I was about to go back to my old ways.

“You mean—but why, Daphne?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I told him you wouldn’t understand.”

Alysia’s thoughts raced. Paulus obviously believed Daphne would benefit from talking to her, if she could be persuaded to talk, and he was trying to forestall Daphne’s decision to reenter prostitution by having her accompany them to the country. That must have been his intention if he had invited her to “stay for a while.”

She placed the heavy jug on the ground and sat down on the step just below Daphne, turning slightly so she could look up at her. The girl’s gaze was guarded and her body tense.

“Daphne,” she began soberly, “I am probably about ten years older than you are, and I’ve been through a few things in my life. I won’t pretend to know how you feel, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t understand. I don’t think you would have come if you had no intention of talking to me. Please try to tell me why you would want to go back to your old life. You admitted it was wrong the first time you came here.”

Daphne plucked at the edge of her stola. “You are a beautiful woman, Alysia. You know how it is with men. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told what I was, the night of the meeting—Antonius tried to stop me. But I thought it must be so obvious…I thought everyone would know. And now everyone looks at me a certain way, or they avoid me altogether. How am I to forget what I’ve been?”

Alysia felt a wave of deep compassion. “Yes, Daphne, I know how it is with men. But the believers here are not perfect—we are all only human. I truly don’t think they realize how they are looking at you…or not, as the case may be. And the ones who avoid you are probably only trying to avoid being tempted by your beauty, not because of what you were.” Her lips curved up a little and she added, “Or they are trying to avoid an elbow in the ribs—from their wives.”

Daphne thought about that, and laughed. “Women have always been jealous of me!”

“Well, it may not be jealousy…exactly. But I know what you mean. Perhaps the solution is for you to go to a place where no one knows of your past, so you won’t always be reminded of it.”

“That’s one reason I agreed to go with you to the country. Just to see how it would be.”

“At least it will be a time for reflection…before you do anything you will regret.”

Daphne answered thoughtfully. “Yes, Alysia. I hope so.”

* * *

Paulus’ mood was dark as he walked swiftly through the streets toward his house. Recklessly he let the hood fall back from his head…it was too hot for it, and what did it matter if some overly zealous soldier recognized him? He’d almost welcome a fight in his present frame of mind. Someone grabbed his arm and he turned, his fist clenched, but he relaxed when he saw Simon looking back at him.

“What’s your hurry?” Simon asked, giving him a searching look. “Slow down, won’t you…I’ve got an ache in my side from trying to catch up with you.”

“Age, no doubt,” Paulus said shortly, but he slowed his pace.

“I’m a few years younger than you, as I recall. What’s the matter, Paulus? For a moment I thought you were going to hit me.”

“Sorry.” The two men kept walking…the streets were less congested, for many Romans were napping at this hour of the day. Paulus said nothing further, and his friend remained silent until Paulus glanced at him at little ruefully.

“All right, I’ll just say it. Maybe Alysia was right, Simon. You don’t know what she said but…maybe we’re not supposed to be here. She’s worn out with hiding, and so am I. How much better it would be if we could just go and live peaceably in the country—on a farm—raising animals, perhaps, and growing our own food. Worshiping God in our own way. I’m doing no good here; my witness and credibility are compromised. I’m thinking of leaving Rome.”

After a moment Simon said, “This is not like you, Paulus. Avitus’ death has disturbed you greatly. What else has happened to discourage you?”

Paulus shook his head. “It’s not discouragement, Simon. It’s the plain truth. I think our work here is done.”

“Did God tell you this?”

He answered, after a long pause, “Not yet.”

They were forced to come almost to a halt as a group of people walking together blocked them from passing. Simon said thoughtfully, “You can’t be blamed for being tired, you and Alysia. It’s bound to be a strain, having to watch over your shoulder all the time, always wondering who is friend and who is foe. Not to mention the responsibilities both of you bear. I think this trip to the country is exactly what you need.”

Paulus managed to find a wedge between the people in front of them and passed through, with Simon following. They fell into step again.

“As for your credibility—you’re speaking of what Megara did, aren’t you? You and I are both bound by former spouses through no fault of our own—let those who hate us make the most of it!”

“That’s easy to say, Simon. But it does make a difference.”

Simon didn’t answer but went on, “And Avitus dying in his sins…not everyone will accept the truth, Paulus, and you can no more take the blame for that than you can take the credit when they do accept it. It is God who saves, not you.”

Paulus stopped abruptly and looked at him.

Simon said earnestly, “Once in the darkest days of my life you lifted me up and encouraged me…and led me to the Lord, the greatest day of my life. And so, now I am about to tell you, not to soothe your wounded pride but to give you the same encouragement you once gave me…You have spread the word of God from Jerusalem to this place, and in Rome you have planted seeds that will grow and be harvested in God’s own time. You have not claimed leadership, but out of necessity you have become a leader. You call yourself neither preacher nor deacon nor bishop, yet you have begun a chain of events that cannot be stopped. Even when you are dead, unless God wills it.”

Paulus kept looking at him as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

Simon urged, “Well, come on, before those laggards catch up with us.”

They started walking again. After a while Paulus said, his voice rough, “You are a true friend, Simon.”

“Why—because I tell the truth? Someday you may not like what I have to say.”

“It is God who saves. I’d almost forgotten that.”

“You have always been humble in your faith, Paulus. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. But our own efforts are not enough. How could a mere man give another eternal life—unless he is also the son of God! We can show the way, and the rest is up to him.”

“Agreed. Simon, I met Daphne today. She’s in trouble.”

“Daphne—what kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know exactly, but please ask the others to pray for her. She’s going to the country with us.”

Simon glanced at him but said nothing.

“Why don’t you come, and bring your family? There’s room for at least fifty, from the sound of it!”

Simon hesitated, then shook his head and grinned. “Thank you, Paulus. But some of us have to work for our livelihood.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER X

 

Alysia exchanged a look with Paulus as the horse-drawn carriage rolled smoothly through the gate. Distracted and irritated by the many beggars who congregated within its shady interior, the guards waved on the opulent, elaborately carved vehicle without so much as glancing inside. Even at this early hour, traffic flowed steadily down the Appian Way. Burial monuments lined the road—huge ones and small ones, extravagant and plain, seeming to stretch on for miles.

Across from Paulus and Alysia, in their own padded seats, Rachel and Daphne visibly relaxed as the city disappeared behind them. Paulus had warned Daphne that “people” might be looking for them, and it might not bode well with her to be caught in their company. Daphne had laughed and said, “No one will bother with me, and they’ll certainly wonder about the company you keep!”

The sun appeared on the horizon, dispelling the blue shadows and casting its aureate glow over the countryside. Alysia settled comfortably next to Paulus, her arm linked through his, and gazed through the large opening on the side. A horseman galloped past them, probably someone on government business; there were traders and merchants with their overloaded wagons, people on foot, in sedan chairs and litters borne by slaves, people everywhere.

After traveling for several hours, they drew to the side of the road and ate a meal Alysia had packed in a basket. A few hours after resuming their journey, narrow lanes began branching off the road to right and left, each leading to a dwelling at the top of the slope. Some were small, quaint farms, and others were the mansions of the wealthy. At last the driver, one of Horatius’ slaves, turned off onto a long avenue lined with cypress trees. They were all drowsing, but came quickly to attention as the carriage slowed and drew to a stop.

Against the dusk, the villa was ablaze with the light of many lamps, showing off its marble columns and balconies, the plane and cypress trees gracing its lawn, the carefully placed shrubs and beds of flowers. Slaves had come outside to greet them, taking their baggage and ushering them inside. The high ceilings sent rushes of cool air wafting over them as they stood in the entry hall. Long corridors ran down either side, and in front of them a double doorway opened onto a vast courtyard. More slaves appeared, offering to take them to their rooms and announcing that food would be served in the courtyard within the hour.

“By Felicitas!” Daphne exclaimed, before she thought. “I could get used to this!”

* * *

Morning sunlight slanted through the long windows into the room, falling across the large, canopied bed. The walls of the bedroom were painted in bright colors…one entire section depicted a woman in a flowing gown and palla, seeming to almost float through a mysterious arched doorway flanked by twin Corinthian columns. The rich scent of cedar emanated from the various chests and tables, the cabinets, the elaborate dressing table with its matching bench, and the enormous frame of the bed. Wicker chairs and ornate lamp stands filled every corner.

Alysia stretched and slid one of her legs against one of her husband’s. “Maximus,” she said languorously, pressing close and laying her arm across his chest. “I think I’m going to call you Maximus from now on. Or have I said that before?”

He gave a low laugh and answered, “And I think your name means ‘captivating’…Let’s see, when exactly did you captivate me? I think it must have been that day in the rain when you kicked me in the shin and declared your hatred for me.”

“I did have a horrible temper, didn’t I?”

“Constantly.” He smiled and turned to look into her eyes. “But I didn’t blame you, after all you endured.”

“Oh, I’ve always had a temper, I assure you. And I was very sorry for myself. And I didn’t want to fall in love with you!”

He sighed. “It’s a shame I was so irresistible.”

“It’s a shame you’re so conceited!”

“Conceited!” he said, with mock indignation. “After you denied me all those years? It was a considerable blow to my pride.”

“One you needed, I’m sure. But…I think I’ve more than made up for it since then.”

“Indeed, you have,” he said, grinning, and kissed her fervently.

* * *

The day was spent exploring the villa and its surroundings, which would have covered an entire city block. Shaped like a square, the numerous rooms surrounded the paved courtyard; there were bedrooms, a library, offices, casual and formal dining rooms (though in summer, meals were served on the courtyard), reception rooms, baths, exercise rooms…and now, a prayer room. It had formerly been a shrine to the household gods, but the images had all been removed and burned, replaced by copies of the Scriptures.

Because Horatius had shared his faith with his slaves, many of them had become believers. The guests were never certain exactly how many slaves there were, because they only appeared when they were attending to their own particular duties, and were so quiet and decorous they were hardly noticed. Their living quarters were next to the baths.

The courtyard was furnished with tables and chairs; spaces for small trees to grow had been left in the mosaic pavement. A fountain splashed water into an enormous pool, where pipes connected to nearby springs. A paved walkway, edged with flowerbeds, surrounded the pool. Beyond the courtyard a row of columns led to a wide stairway, descending to a paved landing and another set of stairs shaped in a semi-circle, and surrounded by a marble parapet. Rustic clay pots filled with plants had been placed on top of the low wall, and the landing, too, was interspersed with shrubs and flowers and small trees. The second stairway led to the close-trimmed lawns, which overlooked the foothills of lush green mountains rising in the distance.

A pond that could almost be called a small lake covered the entire west side of the property, and on the east side stood a large brick stable and surrounding pasture. Horatius, like many of Rome’s wealthy landowners, used his country estate to provide extra income…in his case, raising horses. A forest of wild oak, pine and maple trees stretched beyond the stable as far as the eye could see.

From the north a road extended past the long drive and disappeared from view. When Daphne asked where it went, the house steward replied that it led to the marketplace, where all the local farmers who didn’t wish to conduct business within the city gathered on certain days of the week to sell their goods. There were amusements, too, he added, and speeches and public debates, and other merchants and peddlers.

“Horatius must be awfully rich. I thought that Jesus’ followers were supposed to give away all their possessions to the poor,” Daphne remarked, as they sat around a table on the courtyard, partaking of a superb mid-day meal. Over their heads, extending just far enough to cover the eating area, was a section of latticework threaded with plants and vines, to shade them from the glaring sun.

“Well,” Paulus said dryly, “I’m afraid there wouldn’t be many followers if that were a requirement.”

“A lot of people did that, at first,” Alysia said, passing around a bowl of grapes. “And they did it gladly, because they wanted to. But Jesus only asked people to be responsible for what they have…to be good stewards.”

“And to give to the poor,” Rachel added. “And take care of the widows and orphans.”

“But what about that man you spoke of one night, Antonius, who Jesus told to go and give everything he had to the poor?”

“That was a test,” Rachel said, “because the man was very proud.”

Daphne looked annoyed, and Rachel was sorry she had spoken. Her mother had taught her that children should remain silent in the presence of adults, to show their respect. But Rachel often forgot. She liked Daphne, but there was something about her…she didn’t quite know what to think. She wasn’t sure that Daphne really wanted to be a believer.

Her father smiled at her, and Rachel felt better. He said, “Now, what shall we do today? Who wants to ride horses? Rachel, I’m going to teach you to ride a horse and to catch fish, and to swim!”

“Those are boy things!” Rachel answered, but looked interested.

“Nonsense—I want to learn, too, Antonius!” cried Daphne. “Can you ride a horse, Alysia?”

Alysia shook her head. “No, thank you. I am content to walk.”

“Come with us anyway,” Paulus urged. “You can ride with me.”

“I’ll do anything but ride a horse.” She smiled, but her eyes met her husband’s with a secret sorrow. The wild ride on Asbolos was forever linked in her mind with the storm at sea, and the loss of their child.

He squeezed her hand. “As you wish,” he said softly, and stood up, still holding her hand. “But you don’t mind looking at them, do you? Horatius has some fine horses.”

“We used to have a horse,” Rachel said, again without thinking, and again she reproached herself. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to tell that.

“Really? What happened to it?” Daphne asked curiously.

They stood up and began to walk toward the stable. Immediately a slave came out of the house to take away their plates.

“He was lost,” Paulus replied. “In a city far from here.”

Daphne began pulling up the hem of her gown, causing her bracelets to jingle. “I should have changed clothes before coming out here.”

“It’s very clean,” Paulus said. They entered the dimness of the large, brown brick structure, where the horses were kept in the heat of the day; mornings and evenings were spent in the pasture. Air rushed through the front from the wide, wooden doorways at either end, having a freshening effect on the sometimes musty smell…and the scent of manure. The horses were secured in stalls, and a dozen or more friendly heads poked over the gates.

“They’re beautiful,” Alysia said, reaching out to stroke a broad forehead. “What are they?”

“Arabians,” Paulus answered. “Well known for their endurance. Notice their colors…that white and gray is a beauty…the black, the chestnut. Look, Rachel, there’s a dark gray like Asbolos.”

“He wasn’t an Arabian, was he, Father?”

“No, but a finer horse never lived. I miss him.”

“What do you suppose happened to him?” Daphne asked.

“Someone found him and took good care of him…I hope.”

Alysia watched as Daphne frolicked back and forth, petting the animals and laughing delightedly when she found a long row of foals. She seemed very young; even Rachel was more demure than she. Now and then Daphne would glance at Paulus, and there was nothing extraordinary or special about the glances; her gaze would go to Alysia next and flit away. Her lithe young body moved swiftly from stall to stall.

“I like the gray,” she announced. “That’s the one I want to ride.”

In spite of her deep compassion for Daphne, and her strong desire to see the young woman brought into the “kingdom” of God…Alysia realized she just didn’t trust her. She hated admitting it to herself, but she didn’t.

* * *

Several idyllic days passed. Paulus, as he had promised, taught Rachel and Daphne how to ride, and how to fish. However, he didn’t mention swimming again, for that would entail dealing with Daphne in some sort of scanty attire; he hadn’t counted on her being so eager to learn new things. Alysia watched them from the fence as they cantered about the pasture, both laughing and encouraging, and sat on the bank of the pond, in the shade of the many cypress and pine trees, while they fished. She did, occasionally, fish with them—but that had never been one of her favorite pursuits, either.

One day they had waded knee-high into the water; Daphne and Rachel had tucked the edges of their long tunics into belts at their waists. The horsehair fishing lines were attached to short rods weighted with stones and bronze hooks, onto which Paulus had impaled wriggling pink worms. Paulus was using a hand-net, and several bream and perch already lay twitching on the pond bank. Suddenly Daphne gave a shriek, and Alysia saw Paulus reach down and grab something and sling it over his head; the next thing she knew a large snake was flying through the air toward the opposite bank.

Afterward Daphne was very subdued and watched Paulus more than ever. It was, Alysia feared, becoming a serious situation. Paulus seemed unaware of the girl’s attention, which was unlike him because he was usually observant about everything. Alysia hesitated to broach the subject, knowing it would create suspicion and she really didn’t know Daphne’s intentions, or her heart.

Rachel seemed to be having a wonderful time, and Alysia ached for her because in spite of Paulus’ and her efforts, there had rarely been much that was normal or carefree in her daughter’s life. Besides all the other diversions, she could spend as much time as she liked on her sketching; she practiced with her bow and arrow, and she had even brought her lyre, at Alysia’s insistence…but had managed to avoid resorting to that particular occupation.

Evenings were spent in the prayer room, where Paulus, Alysia and Rachel read aloud from the Scriptures. Daphne listened and never offered to read, causing Alysia to wonder if she had ever learned to do so. They discussed what they read, and again Daphne listened but made no comments and asked no questions. Then they prayed before retiring for the night. Silently, Alysia lifted special petitions for Daphne’s salvation…and Paulus’ protection.

* * *

Megara read the note presented her by the mute slave, Tertius…dismissed him with a flick of her wrist and sat down abruptly in a thickly cushioned chair. He had scribbled his news on a piece of papyrus, the only way he had of communicating—for she couldn’t bear it when he made signs like an idiot and had forbidden him to do so. She’d always assumed his first master had cut out his tongue; she’d never asked, and didn’t really want to know.

Her gaze went slowly over the comfortable furnishings of her townhouse on the upper slopes of the Esquiline Hill—comfortable, but not luxurious. It was the best she could do, and how she hated being dependent on Paulus for it! She thought longingly of the beautiful house they had lived in, long ago; it was now occupied by his sister and her husband. The farm and villa Paulus had owned had been sold by his family a few years after his disappearance.

She looked at the note again, and couldn’t decide what to do. Usually she could make up her mind with lightning speed, and could stick to a decision with obsessive obstinacy, but this was…complicated. Tertius had heard that inquiries were being made about Paulus on the streets, and one man was even going around showing a sketch of him. She had known Caligula wanted to find him, but thought his interest had waned over the years.

Should she warn Paulus—her only source of money? Or should she turn him in to the authorities and expect to be richly rewarded?

Megara had actually considered going to Caligula and telling him the whole story…how she had faked her own death (she would say it was because she was so depressed over the state of her marriage), and how she had found Paulus in Rome…but something that woman had said gave her pause. The emperor might not like being tricked. He might not find the reality of his traipsing teary-eyed in a funeral procession behind a fake mummy as hilarious as she hoped he would.

Oh, but she was so tired of being alone, and of having no friends and no one to talk to except the wretched slaves—and she didn’t talk to them, actually, she just ordered them about and scolded them when they deserved it, which was often. She wanted to dye her hair red again, and go out in society and find another wealthy husband, since it would be obvious to all that Paulus Valerius had abandoned her. Once the prospect of being an abandoned wife had been odious to her—something that must be avoided at all costs. The years of virtual exile had changed her mind; in fact, perhaps she could use the “desertion” to her advantage.

But Caligula was so unpredictable. And he might not have forgotten that little thing she had let slip that made him think she supported Sejanus—that thing she herself couldn’t even remember. Perhaps she shouldn’t consider betraying Paulus to the authorities; he would probably tell Caligula all about her, and then she would be in as much trouble as he.

The next time she went for an installment of her living expenses she would just have to warn him that he was being sought much more aggressively than he had known. Or perhaps he did know it and still went about business as usual—trusting that his God would protect him! She still couldn’t get over that. Paulus was the last person in the world she would have thought could be taken in by such superstitious nonsense. But he had changed…drastically!

Megara rose and went to stand by the window, her statuesque figure outlined against the hazy, setting sun. The nightly clang and clatter on the streets below had already begun.

Why did it have to be so hot and noisy? She was beginning to hate Rome.

 

 

 

CHAPTER XI

 

The walk to the marketplace only took about half an hour. The tree-lined avenue to the villa branched toward a road surrounded by woods, and when they reached the bazaar everyone except Paulus was surprised by its size and many diversions. Because he had formerly owned a villa, he had visited such country markets before, but he had to admit this one was more impressive than any he had seen.

Farmers and merchants who didn’t wish to sell their goods in the odorous and overcrowded markets of Rome gathered here, and not only people from the country but a large influx of patrons from the nearby resort city of Tibur came to look over the fresh food and merchandise. Rows of tents and canopies stretched from one end to the other. Wooden structures had been set up as well, and the merchants sat behind tables or counters and loudly called out to everyone who passed by. There were games being played, dancers with their accompanying musicians, and even a group of acrobats performing, far to one side. On the opposite end, smoke billowed upward and the smell of roasting meat filled the air. It was early in the morning, and already a steady flow of patrons poured in from the connecting roads.

Daphne and Rachel had found a tent full of puppies from which they obviously wouldn’t be parted for some time, so Paulus and Alysia strolled on, with Paulus lightly clasping one of Alysia’s arms just above the elbow. He wore a rust-colored robe with a hood for partial concealment, and Alysia’s head covering extended past each side of her face.

He was very quiet, she thought, as they made their slow way through the crowded rows and aisles. His mood was light, though, and he seemed to have gotten over the discouragement he’d experienced when Camillus’ father died. For several days now Alysia had sensed a gathering strength in him, something she’d witnessed often over the years; there were times he prayed longer and immersed himself more deeply in reading the Scriptures, and always during those times strength and power emanated from him almost tangibly. She’d experienced those moments herself, but Paulus had surpassed her…and she was proud of him, proud of his faith and his ability to share it. She felt, somehow, that he was going to share it today.

 

* * *

He had been aware for some time that they were being followed. At first it was only the knowledge that a certain young man was keeping up with him, and Alysia, everywhere they went. Whenever they stopped to look at something the young man would stop, and Paulus…without seeming to…examined him closely and decided he’d never seen him before. There was something strange about him; he walked with an odd, shuffling gait, his black hair was long and uncombed, his bare arms showed ugly red scars where something had viciously cut him.

He followed them as they came to the far end of the market, where about a dozen men were sitting in chairs beneath the trees, having a heated discussion. As he listened briefly, Paulus could tell they were landowners and “amateur” philosophers who gathered here to air their views in public…today’s topic seemed to be whether or not women should be allowed to speak in the forums and markets. He thought it best to steer away from that conversation.

Before he could move, the young man behind them began to make a low, whining sound. Alysia noticed him for the first time and gave her husband a puzzled look. Immediately Paulus felt a sense of darkness, of something evil…almost the same feeling he got when he was around soothsayers and those who practiced divination and sorcery. He made a small gesture with his head, and he and Alysia turned and went in the opposite direction. They traversed the entire bazaar again, passing booths and tents of merchandise, vendors selling food, people playing board games, others throwing dice and playing games of chance. The man continued to follow them, and his whining grew louder until it gradually became a keening wail.

They were back to the group of men seated under the trees. The men had ceased talking, as had everyone within hearing distance of the wailing young man.

Paulus felt the spirit of God coming over him as never before. Deep within, a power burgeoned and grew; it filled, and began to overflow…as a vessel too full of water cannot hold it.

He turned abruptly and commanded, “Be silent!”

The young man cowered back. “What have we to do with you, man of God?” he cried. “Why have you come to threaten us?”

Paulus pushed back the hood of his robe; his eyes locked with those of the other man. “In the name of Jesus Christ, come out of him!”

A hideous scream rent the air, sending shudders through all who heard it. The young man convulsed and fell to the ground, where he lay completely motionless, his eyes closed. Alysia, and everyone else, stared at Paulus. A spate of murmuring erupted; one of the seated men rose and bent close to the unmoving form on the ground.

“He’s dead!” the man exclaimed. “You’ve killed him!”

Without answering, Paulus stepped forward, reached down and clasped the young man’s arm. He pulled upward, and at once the man opened his eyes and stood. He looked at Paulus with an expression of wonder; he lowered his head and without another word turned and walked away, his gait normal. The people around them continued to watch, awestruck, as though waiting for something else to happen. Having heard the commotion, others hurried toward the scene, Rachel and Daphne among them. Daphne had a puppy in her arms.

An elderly man called out, “Sir, would you be so good as to come here?”

Still in the grip of supernatural power, Paulus turned toward the men under the trees and waited for them to speak. The elderly man said, “That man is known to us—he has often come to this place. His despairing father, too, has come with him. Others have tried what you did, and failed. In fact, he beat one such man rather brutally and ran him off. But he’s never followed anyone about as he did you. Tell us, who is this Jesus Christ, in whose name you healed this man of his lunacy?”

“Sir, if I may have an audience, I could speak at great length about Jesus, who has the power to heal, to cast out demons, to bring the dead to life and to save the souls of men.”

Another of the seated men answered, “We have asked a man to speak to us today, but we will hear you out five days from now, at this time and place, if you are willing. But we must be allowed to have our say, as well.”

Paulus inclined his head. “I am more than willing. I will see you then.”

 

* * *

Observing the stares of those surrounding them, Paulus said in a low voice to Alysia, “We’d better go. When I come back, I come alone.”

Clouds had gathered overhead and it seemed a good time to make their departure. The four of them began to walk toward the road leading to the villa. They stopped briefly at one of the booths to eat a small meal, and were on their way again. By then Paulus had relaxed, Alysia noticed, and seemed more like himself.

“Isn’t anyone going to admire my new puppy?” Daphne asked, pretending to pout. “I’m naming her Tigris, because she keeps growling. They said she was bred on the island of Malta.”

Alysia looked at the ball of white fur with large black eyes; the little dog was panting and looked as though she were smiling, exhibiting a tiny pink tongue. “She’s adorable, Daphne…how old is she?”

“Eight weeks. She’s very playful…she doesn’t mean anything when she growls.”

“Mother, can’t we have a puppy?” Rachel asked wistfully.

“Not just yet, darling. Things are so unsettled now.”

Rachel looked disappointed but didn’t argue. Daphne walked along, feeding Tigris bits of cheese. They entered the road through the woods, where only a few people passed to and fro.

Daphne didn’t like silence. “Well, I didn’t get to see everything that happened, but I saw enough. Have you ever done that before, Antonius?”

Paulus shook his head. “No, Daphne.”

“Did you ever heal anyone? How did you know you could do it?”

Paulus sent a look of silent appeal to Alysia, who answered, “Let’s not speak of it, Daphne. One does such things by the spirit of God, and there is no explaining the how or why of it.”

Daphne looked exasperated. “Wait,” she called suddenly. “I have to put Tigris down for a moment.”

The puppy began to busily sniff the ground, and after a moment darted playfully away. Daphne ran after the puppy, tripped on the hem of her gown, and fell gracefully into the dirt.

“Ow!” she cried, pulling up her skirt to examine her ankle.

Alysia rushed to her side. “Are you hurt, Daphne?”

“I—I’m not sure.”

Paulus came over to assist her to her feet, and she slowly put her weight down on the injured ankle. Tears of pain came into her eyes.

“I don’t think I can walk.”

Paulus said, after a moment, “Alysia can stay here with you. Rachel and I will go on and bring the carriage.”

“But it’s about to rain! Can’t you carry me, Antonius? It’s not far—I can see the villa from here!”

Alysia glanced at the gray sky, which was beginning to rumble with thunder. Paulus seemed to be waiting for her response. She nodded at him, hiding her annoyance.

He lifted Daphne in his arms. Rachel came running up with the squirming puppy. Daphne looped her arms around Paulus’ neck and smiled apologetically at Alysia, who forced herself to smile back. But much later, when it was almost time to retire, she noticed that Daphne completely forgot to limp.

* * *

An oil lamp flickered on the dressing table as Alysia sat on the bench before it, brushing her long black hair. The dark violet of her soft linen nightgown almost matched her eyes. She wasn’t sure where Paulus was…but it was his habit to disappear at times—to walk, to think, to pray.

Her uneasiness about Daphne was increasing. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Paulus, but she firmly believed that Satan was setting him up for a fall. Especially after today. She had been dumbfounded when Paulus cast out the demon, or demons…although she had witnessed one other exorcism, performed by Jesus himself. It had never occurred to her that Paulus would be able to do such a thing. He had become a threat to God’s adversary…Satan, that fallen angel once known as Lucifer.

Outside, a storm lashed at the trees and sent rain pounding against the shutters that covered the windows. It somehow made the room feel safe, and intimate. Just as she put down the brush, the door opened and closed. Paulus came toward her, bent and kissed the top of her head. He sat behind her, straddling the wide bench and placing his legs alongside hers.

“Rachel has fallen in love with that puppy,” he said, as he slid his arms around her waist. “I’d like to get her one someday…soon.”

“Paulus, I’ve been thinking…ever since you had that talk with her, that it’s time I told her certain things. First of all, about—about where babies come from. It’s not too soon, with everything she must see and hear in Rome. The statues, the drawings on the walls, the symbols—why, it’s everywhere! And she’s going to hear things from other children.”

“Better you than me,” he answered, smiling. “The Lord be with you.”

“And I need to tell her about the circumstances of her birth. Before she hears it from someone else. Now that people know…children could overhear their parents talking, and things always get out somehow.”

After a pause he said, “If you’re certain. I leave it to your wisdom. She is mature beyond her years—perhaps it is time.”

Alysia moved slightly and tucked her head beneath his chin. She said softly, “About what happened today…I am almost in awe of you, Paulus.”

“No, don’t ever say that, Alysia. That was beyond my control—yes, I let it happen, but the power was not mine. You know that.”

“The spirit knew—it called you a man of God.”

“And what is that, but one who obeys God? Or tries to.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Yes, perhaps you are right. A man of God suffers for his faith, Alysia—he is tried in fire. You and I have suffered, but no more than others have. The evil spirit recognized the spirit of God in me—that is all.”

“What do you suppose that man will do now?”

“I don’t know—I’m sorry he left. I wish we could have talked with him.”

The room quieted as they fell silent; the wind had subsided but the muffled sound of rain still beat against the house. Alysia sighed contentedly, closing her eyes. Her hands moved slowly over the bare, muscular arms clasped at her waist. As she leaned her head back, Paulus wound his fingers in her hair and pressed his lips against her throat.

A rattling came from the door and it opened to reveal Daphne, blinking at them in the dim lamplight.

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think…that is, I can’t find Tigris. Have you seen her?”

Considerably annoyed, Paulus turned and nevertheless calmly replied, “Rachel was running up and down the hallways with her. You might look in one of the other wings of the house.”

“Oh,” Daphne said again. “Well, goodnight.”

“From now on,” Alysia murmured, when she had gone, “be sure to bolt the door.”

* * *

The next morning while Paulus was out riding, and Daphne was being entertained by her puppy, Alysia called Rachel into her bedroom. She had thought carefully over the words she would say, and managed to get through the first part. Rachel sat listening with apparent interest, perhaps not quite comprehending it all. Alysia took a deep breath.

“I’ve told you the physical aspects of how life begins, dear, and I hope you understand very clearly that all of this is to take place within the bonds of marriage. This is what Jesus taught, and it is a sacred thing, not to be taken lightly, nor entered into impulsively. Often a girl’s husband is chosen for her by her parents, but when it comes time for that, Rachel, you can be assured that your father and I will take your wishes into account.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Now there is something else I must tell you. It’s very difficult for me. You are very young, darling, but it’s time you knew.”

Rachel looked concerned, shifted around and said hesitantly, “Father has already told me, Mother, about why you had to leave Rome, and why the soldiers are looking for you.”

Alysia smiled. “Yes, I know he did. We had already agreed that when the time seemed right, you should be told. I hope you don’t think too badly of me, Rachel.”

“Oh, no!” Rachel sat up straighter, looking her mother earnestly in the face. “Father said it’s not a sin to kill someone who is trying to kill you.”

“Well, that is a matter of opinion, I suppose, and I don’t know if this man was going to kill me. But he was trying to take me by force…in the way I’ve described to you. This is called rape, and it is very wrong, and against the law, but it’s difficult to prove. A woman’s word is usually not enough. Women are considered to be dishonored, afterward, and sometimes are even expected to commit suicide. Besides all this, I was a slave. I had no rights. Do you understand, Rachel?”

Her daughter gave a slow nod and cast her gaze downward.

“And now…I must tell you about the circumstances of your birth. Did you overhear any of the talk the other night, when Megara came to our house?”

“I heard a few things, but none of it made sense, Mother, until Father explained them to me.”

“He has left it up to me to explain this, as he should have.” Alysia paused again, wishing with all her heart she didn’t have to go on…yet she did.

“I’ve told you that marriage is a holy thing—but there was a time when I did not regard it as such. The marriage between my first husband and myself was not a happy one. He loved me, but he was often away from home. I cared for him as well. But I was in love with your father, Rachel, even then—even when I knew it was wrong. And one time, we gave in to that temptation. Your father was not yet a believer. But I knew better.”

She waited a long moment, giving her daughter time to think about what she was telling her. She could practically see Rachel linking things together in her mind and coming to the correct conclusion, because her cheeks grew very pink.

“Jesus knew of it, and he forgave me. But Rachel, always remember…there are consequences for the things we do. God will forgive us if we ask him to, but that doesn’t mean he will take away the consequences. I was put on public display for what I did, and to this day I don’t know who knows the truth. Lazarus and Martha, yes, and at least one of the disciples. If there are others who saw me that day…I cannot say.”

Alysia reached out and took her daughter’s hands. “The truth always comes out, and it can be harmful to the innocent. But Rachel, I rejoiced on the day of your birth! And your father loves you…more than anything in this world.”

Her daughter kept looking at the floor.

“My husband was—killed—very soon afterward. He belonged to a group of men who fought the Romans. There’s no need to tell you how he was executed, except that your father was involved, as the commander of the fort. But it was right. My husband refused to be pardoned. People in Bethany have always assumed he was your father.”

Rachel murmured, without looking up. “That’s what Martha’s neighbor meant, when she said I didn’t look like my father.”

“That’s right. I don’t know if she simply made an innocent remark, or if she was being—malicious. But there are people in the world, darling, who take pleasure in accusing others…of making others feel small and shameful. You must try to respond as Jesus would want you to.”

Alysia thought guiltily of her own response to Megara, and how she’d wanted to do her bodily harm! Well, Rachel certainly knew by now that her mother wasn’t perfect. And unfortunately for Megara, God would deal with her in his own time.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you these things, Rachel. But you may hear of them, and I don’t want you to be hurt, or to have to wonder what is true, and what isn’t. You can have no doubt how much you are loved. Would you like to ask me anything?”

Rachel shook her head. A moment went by, and she asked, “Is that all, Mother?”

Alysia sighed. “Yes. That is all.”

She withdrew her hand from Rachel’s. Her daughter stood up, left the bedroom and walked slowly down the long hallway to her own room.

A short while later, Alysia heard the soft, sweet strains of music…Rachel was playing her lyre.

 

 

 

CHAPTER XII

 

The following morning, her parents told Rachel she could have a puppy. Overjoyed, she couldn’t wait to return to the marketplace, and Alysia and Daphne, almost as excited as she, decided to take her right away to select one. Two male slaves would accompany them. Paulus declined to go, because of the attention he had drawn before, and let it be known he would spend the day riding. He set off in an easterly direction through the woods, on a well-defined path that looked as though it had often been trod by horses.

It would be easy to get used to this, he thought, remembering Daphne’s words when they’d first arrived at the villa. Birds twittered and chirped overhead, the breeze swept mildly through his hair and there was no sense of urgency pressing upon him, no need to be constantly on guard. He hadn’t gone far, though, when the fine stallion nearly unseated him, dropping one of his forelegs and beginning to limp heavily. At once Paulus dismounted and examined each leg and hoof, but he could find no injury. He knew these horses were well cared for, and there could be any number of causes for lameness.

“Easy, fellow,” Paulus soothed, as the stallion shook his head and neighed. Well, there was no help for it…he took the reins and began slowly walking the horse back toward the villa. His muscles were still a little sore from carrying Daphne the other day…she was heavier than she looked…and he wasn’t as young as he used to be! And though he never mentioned it, his leg often ached where he’d once suffered a severe wound, as did the arm that had been broken…both injuries having occurred during an enemy attack, while he was in Judea.

Leaving the horse in the care of the slaves who managed the stable, he entered the east wing of the villa, and thought suddenly of the baths. In Rome, he had never visited the public baths, except when he was looking for someone and that was the only place he could be found. Being a soldier for most of his life, Paulus considered it self-indulgent and a waste of time…but at the moment, the thought of soaking in hot water was extremely tempting.

He asked one of the slaves to light the furnaces below and went into the kitchen, where he made himself a light meal of figs and pomegranates, and bread that he dipped in a mixture of olive oil and black pepper. Another slave came and protested that the guest was serving himself instead of calling for him, and Paulus talked with him for a while, until the first slave approached and told him the bath had been prepared.

He entered the vast chamber, with its mosaic tiles and frescoed walls. Some of the paintings had apparently been of a risqué nature and had been, since Horatius’ conversion, covered with a fresh layer of paint. Paulus stripped off his clothes and went down the steps into the steaming water, found a comfortable spot, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Again, a sense of calm and peacefulness came over him—two things he definitely didn’t feel when Daphne was around. She had a way of disturbing one’s peace of mind no matter what she was doing.

He didn’t know why she kept coming into his mind. She’d been acting different lately. He admitted to himself that perhaps it was only male conceit, but he’d been stalked by women often enough to know when they were giving certain signals…and often enough, in the past, he’d taken them up on their offers. But that was in the past.

It had been foolish of him to invite her here. He couldn’t have left her as she was, but he could have arranged for her to go somewhere else; there were several unattached women in the community of believers with whom she could have stayed while she sorted out her thoughts. But he didn’t think she would have gone. And would they have helped her, or made her feel worse? In a way, maybe it was right for her to come here. He felt sure that Alysia had succeeded in at least making her feel accepted. Rachel, too, had reached out to her, and they often played games together…and now they had their adoration of the puppy in common. Although, he had seen Daphne on occasion regard his daughter with a look of… almost…resentment.

Daphne understood the truth about Jesus Christ…he had little doubt of that. But she hadn’t accepted it; she was holding back for some reason, and it went beyond her protestations that no one would allow her to forget her past. He didn’t know of anything more they could do, other than pray and keep exhibiting love and acceptance toward her.

Half an hour passed and he almost fell asleep, now free of the soreness that had plagued him earlier. He climbed up the steps, grabbed a linen towel to dry himself and began putting on his clothes. A whisper of movement, and a flash of something in the corner of his eye, made him turn his head toward the entryway…but there was no one there.

It was very quiet as he walked through the atrium, with not a servant to be seen. He missed his wife and daughter and wondered how he would spend the rest of the day. He should go into the prayer room and prepare himself for the public debate. He needed to refresh his memory on some of the popular philosophies and religions, and with that in mind he walked to the far end of the house and turned to enter the library. Somewhere, too, Alysia had placed a precious set of parchment sheets on which she and her friend, Mary, had written every saying of Jesus they had heard…or been told of by one of his close disciples…in Hebrew and in Greek. He knew all of them, but he liked to read them nevertheless.

Before looking at the books, however, he was distracted by the view from the window, which faced south toward green fields and mountains. He stood there for a long time, his handsome features deeply thoughtful. His hair was still wet and the dark green of his tunic clung damply to his shoulders.

No sooner had he sensed a presence behind him than two silken arms slid around his lean waist, and a soft body pressed itself against the back of his. Paulus turned at once, avoiding the entangling arms, and looked into Daphne’s eager, dark eyes. He grasped her roving hands in both of his.

“I stayed here—for you,” she breathed, her face flushed with desire. “Come lie with me—no one will know.”

He saw that she was clothed in a diaphanous gown; her rich dark hair was loose, and a heady perfume floated in the air around her. “Daphne—stop,” he said, as she struggled to pull her hands out of his iron grip.

“Kiss me, Antonius,” she whispered, leaning into him, her lips parted. “I can do things for you you’ve never dreamed of—.” A swift, silent battle ensued; Daphne determinedly pushed toward him and Paulus sought to restrain her.

“Daphne, get away from me.”

His tone was low and severe, and he didn’t have to thrust her away; she had only to look into his eyes to see that he meant it. She stopped her movements, and Paulus let go of her hands. She stepped backward, breathing hard, and stared at him as he crossed the room and placed himself at a safe distance from her.

“Why?” he demanded angrily. “What made you think—”

“Why—do you have to ask me why!”

“Yes, I do!”

“Because I—I want you, and I’ve told you before—this is all I know.”

“You know a great deal more! You have sat at my house and listened, and in this house…you know that this is wrong, and what it cost Jesus Christ to pay for it!”

At that her face crumpled. Looking young and vulnerable, she collapsed suddenly into a storm of weeping. Paulus resisted the urge to go to her, to comfort her. She covered her eyes with one hand and reached out blindly with the other until she found a chair and dropped into it.

Paulus tried to restrain his anger and deep disappointment. “You were almost ready to believe in him. You do believe, don’t you, but you are rejecting him—why, Daphne?”

“You don’t understand!” she cried, taking her hand from her tear-streaked face. “This is in my heart and it won’t go away! I am nineteen years old, Antonius, and I’ve been a prostitute since I was twelve! My own father sold me—after he had taken my virginity, and I have done things that would make you cringe with shame! How can I ever be forgiven—how can I ever look your Jesus in the face?”

Shaken by the depth of her emotion, Paulus just stared at her for a moment. She curled up in the chair and refused to look at him, her bare body visible through the transparent gown. He wanted to tell her to go and put on some clothes…but she might not come back. Abruptly, his anger died and his heart bled for her.

“Daphne,” he said, with great gentleness. “There is something you don’t understand. What sins do you think were laid upon him, on the cross? A small lie? The disobedience of a child? A profane word, an unkind deed? Those things, yes, but it was also thievery, envy, adultery and murder. And incest—and that was not your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” she said bitterly.

“In God’s eyes even what seems like a small sin is just as wrong as a great one. Because, Daphne, they all have a single root—rebellion. They come from a rebellious and wicked heart, something we all have in common.”

“Not like me.”

“You are trying to limit God’s love, and that is impossible.”

“He could never love me. And why should he—if he saw what I just tried to do to you!”

“Jesus himself said that God sent him because he so loved the world…and that includes you. Are you so great a sinner that you are not even part of the world?”

“Sometimes I feel like that! How would you know? I may be paid for what I do, but there are some men that I—I enjoy being with! And—I’ve always known, somehow, that what I do is wrong, even before I heard about Jesus.”

“Daphne, I must tell you something. You know me as Antonius, but that is only a family name. I’ve had to hide my real name. I have done things that fill me with regret, now that I know the truth. But—the truth—has set me free from those things.”

“Free,” she whispered, as though he’d spoken some magical word. “I want to be free.”

Paulus glanced around the room. There was a bright yellow coverlet lying on one of the couches; he went and took it in his hands, then walked over and handed it to Daphne. She looked up, her eyes red, and tucked it around her.

“How badly?” he asked, standing very still before her. “Do you want to be free from yourself as well, and call him Lord of your life?”

Her brow furrowed and she didn’t answer. Impulsively, Paulus knelt beside her.

“Daphne, he died for you. There is no greater love.”

“I want to be free,” she said again. “I do believe the things I’ve heard you say. It broke my heart when you talked about Jesus dying for us, to take our place. But I’m afraid. I’m afraid he will reject me.”

“He has said that whoever comes to him, he will not cast out. He will accept you, just as you are.”

“Just as I am,” she repeated, child-like. She began to cry again, with great wrenching sobs. She wept for a long time and he waited, knowing what she was going through—because he had been through it himself. She began to hiccup, and finally raised her eyes to his.

“I—I want to pray.”

Paulus hid his surprise, and a sudden rush of relief and elation.

Daphne crawled out of the chair, holding the coverlet close against her, and knelt beside him. She paused for so long that he became concerned that she was resisting again. But then she began, in so small and humble a voice that he felt the sting of tears in his own eyes.

“Dear God in heaven, have mercy on me, one who has sinned against you, and I ask to be covered by the blood of your son, Jesus—so that is what you see when you look upon me. I know that nothing I could ever do can save me. I thank you, Jesus, for your perfect life. I ask you to forgive me, and to cleanse my heart, and to come and live in it, and make me a new person.”

She stopped, and after a long moment went on brokenly, “Help me in my faith, because I am weak. I—I can’t—”

Paulus waited, but when she couldn’t seem to go on, he said, “Help Daphne to forgive herself, and to believe in your forgiveness. Help her to know that she is truly your child, loved and accepted because of Jesus Christ. Amen.”

Slowly, Daphne raised her head, and Paulus saw in her eyes what he had felt at his own, very difficult, conversion. Wonder, and joy, and peace. And wholeness.

“I think he has forgiven me,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to think it, Daphne—you can know it.”

“I feel clean, for the first time in my whole life!”

Paulus stood, and drew her to her feet. “You are clean, from the inside out.”

Self-consciously she pushed back her tumbled hair and used a corner of the coverlet to dab at her face. “What happens now, Antonius?” she asked, and gave him a small smile. “Or whatever your real name is.”

“I can’t tell you my name. But to answer your question…baptism, first of all. Daphne, you must know that God will never ask anything of you that you cannot do, through him. He wants to work in your life to bring you closer to him. This is something you can’t do in your own strength, but from the moment you prayed to receive him, he sent his holy Spirit to live within you. And now you have an obligation to learn more about Jesus, to follow his leadership, to share your life with other believers.” He kept looking earnestly into her eyes and added, “We’ll study and pray together, you and Alysia and I.”

Her face reddened. “I cannot face Alysia. Not yet. I want to go home. There are some things I—need to get rid of. Some things I need to change. I’ll ask one of the servants to take me. But I will come to the meetings at your house, when you return. I promise.”

Daphne moved swiftly away from him, but then stopped and turned back. “I am sorry, Antonius. I let myself be carried away by—I mean—”

“Don’t say any more.”

“But I had another reason for what I did. I wanted to see what you would do. I wanted to see if you really lived by the things you say.” She met his eyes, adding quietly, “And now I know.”

* * *

Daphne chose the pond rather than the pool for her baptism (in spite of possible reptilian occupants), dressed in a dark robe provided by one of the slaves. It seemed more natural, she said. Paulus almost asked one of the other believers to do the baptizing; he didn’t feel quite right about it somehow…after what had happened. But Daphne clearly expected him to, and she might feel hurt and rejected if he didn’t…his own peculiar feeling wasn’t worth that price.

The slaves came out to watch; some of them even sang a hymn, before Paulus immersed her in the water. Daphne was smiling and joyful until she saw Alysia and Rachel coming toward them; she threw Paulus a sheepish look as they waded out of the water, and Alysia ran forward to embrace her.

“Daphne, I’m so happy for you!”

“Thank you, Alysia—I am very happy, too. But I’ve already told Antonius that I must leave at once—there are things at home I must see to. In fact, I plan on moving to another part of town very soon. Thank you for having me here, and everything you and Antonius and Rachel have done for me.” Daphne smiled at Rachel. “Where is your little puppy?”

Rachel’s own smile faded. “They weren’t there this time—the dog owners, I mean.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You can certainly come and visit me, and play with Tigris whenever you like.”

“Thank you, Daphne!”

Some of the servants were setting out food on the courtyard, and they all sat down for a quick meal before Daphne left. Alysia watched Daphne and thought, Yes, it’s real, but there was something else about the young woman…she seemed embarrassed and avoided meeting Alysia’s eyes. Alysia looked at Paulus, who met her gaze with a searching one of his own, as though he knew what she was thinking. Then, in a flurry of bags and boxes, and carrying her puppy, Daphne climbed into the carriage and disappeared down the lane. It seemed very quiet when she had gone.

Later, while Rachel visited the lame horse in the stable, Paulus and Alysia walked across the great lawn and sat down on the bank of the pond to watch the sun go down. The silence between them was not as comfortable as usual.

Paulus said finally, “Alysia, I have something to tell you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I shouldn’t have asked Daphne to come here. Even though it turned out…oh, I don’t know. It could have turned out wrong. If she hadn’t had a change of heart, she could have said anything she liked about me.”

“Do you mean what I think you mean?”

Paulus didn’t answer, so she said bluntly, “She tried to seduce you?”

After another pause, he said, “Yes.”

Although she had suspected as much, she felt an unexpected stab of jealousy. “What did you say to her?”

“What do you think I said, or did, Alysia…I all but crawled under the couch!”

“I wish you hadn’t told me. Now I’m angry with Daphne!”

“I had to tell you—we can’t have secrets between us. Anyway, she was testing me—nothing happened, and the whole thing ended well, but as I said—it might not have, if she’d grown angry. She could have said I tried to rape her—think of Potiphar’s wife and Joseph. Or she could have told you I tried to seduce her. It wasn’t wise to bring her here, and it wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry.”

“I admit I didn’t trust her. I tried to make sure you were never alone with her, but that’s not always possible, is it? This morning she decided quite suddenly not to go with us, but I thought you would be away all day.”

“I would have, if the horse hadn’t gone lame.”

“How do you suppose she managed that?” Alysia said, only half-joking.

“She told me some things…she’s had a hard way of it, Alysia. Don’t judge her too harshly.”

“I’m not judging her…you of all people know I would never do that! But how do you know she was telling the truth, and not just playing on your sympathy?”

“I just know. You should have seen her.”

“It’s probably a good thing I didn’t!”

Paulus said, with an edge to his voice, “Let’s not speak of it again. The important thing is that she is saved.”

Alysia relented, and slid both arms around him. “Of course it is. I’m sorry, Paulus. I’m sure she must feel wretched about it now. But you mustn’t. We won’t let this come between us.”

She reached up and gently turned his face toward her own, looking into his eyes. They were as clear and honest, and loving, as they had ever been. He put his arm close around her, and they watched the stars come out.

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIII

 

“Where is he, Flavius?” asked Herod Agrippa, looking haughtily at the emperor’s chief bodyguard. His toga rustled as he stalked into the room with the confidence of a man on the verge of achieving his ambitions…whatever those might be. This king of Galilee had…over the years… fallen in and out of favor with Tiberius, fled for his life several times, and now had taken over the rule of his uncle Antipas’ former domain and was comfortably ensconced in Caligula’s palace. He had a full face and wide jaw, curly black hair, a long, hooked nose, and was considered quite charming by the women of Rome.

Behind Agrippa crept Claudius, who glanced timorously around the imperial bedchamber. The emperor was nowhere to be seen. Outside, a thunderstorm raged; great outbursts of thunder pealed across the flattened hilltop, accompanied by piercing streaks of lightning. The room was brightly lit with lamps, and with torches set in brackets against each wall.

Flavius, standing at attention in the corner, kept his face expressionless and nodded toward the bed. Claudius limped forward and tossed the rumpled covers, then looked inquiringly back at Flavius. At that moment a muffled voice came from underneath.

“Go away! Jupiter is angry and I daren’t come out until he’s gone!”

“Nephew,” said Claudius, with rare sternness, “are you still—hiding from storms? Come out from under there at—once!”

A boom of thunder crashed into the room and the emperor squealed. “Oh, Brother, wreak not your vengeance upon me…I am innocent! The moon beguiled me…seek Venus instead! It was her fault…” He fell to whimpering as thunder vibrated the walls.

“Your Majesty,” said Agrippa, “won’t you explain why you have summoned us? Claudius has come all the way from his house in the rain, and I have business waiting as well.”

“I won’t come out until he’s gone! I wanted to talk to you about this Nazarene cult, and for all I know that’s what Jupiter is angry about, instead of that other—thing!”

“What do you me—mean?” asked Claudius.

“Never mind! I’ve sent for a number of princes and officials—we will have a great assembly. I am going to warn them not to tolerate this foolishness. I might even have some of these Nazarenes brought before me in their presence.”

“An excellent idea,” said Agrippa. “My uncle, Antipas, was greatly affected by the dead Nazarene. He’s never been the same—prowls like a panther all night long, so my sister says. I know there are many of the man’s followers in Jerusalem, but I was not aware of any great number in Rome. However, it is best to stop them before they become a nuisance.”

Flavius watched as Agrippa sat down on the edge of the bed and Claudius limped toward a chair. Though alarmed by what he was hearing, he wasn’t surprised by it…he’d even been expecting it, sooner or later. It was inevitable, once Caligula learned of the “Nazarenes”, and their loyalty to a God other than himself.

“My sources tell me they meet in each other’s homes,” answered the voice under the bed. “There are even some of them in the Jewish section, and they are allowed to speak in the synagogues. That is very curious, since it was the Jews who crucified this so-called Messiah in the first place!”

“The Jews and the Ro—Romans,” said Claudius.

The storm began to recede, and Caligula’s head appeared as he lay on his back looking up at the king. “You, Herod Agrippa, ought to consider hying yourself back to Jerusalem. How can you keep those fanatics quiet all the way from Rome?”

“The Sanhedrin is doing all it can to stop them, your Majesty. Prison, beatings, even death to some.”

“Not the same as Roman justice! Your grandfather would have made short work of them.”

Agrippa’s handsome brow wrinkled. “If your majesty believes I should return to Palestine I will do so, but I don’t think it necessary.”

“Suit yourself! Just make sure they are dealt with. I will see that they set my statue dressed as Jupiter in their Temple. I have already ordered it—what is taking them so long?”

Agrippa and Claudius exchanged glances. They, along with the governor of Syria, had been delaying the command—knowing how the Jews would react and the bloodbath that would follow.

“I have not been in correspondence with the governor,” Agrippa lied smoothly. “However, has your Majesty considered that not only would the Jews be outraged by such an action, but these Nazarenes as well?”

“Let them be outraged! A good excuse to rid ourselves of all of them!”

“I believe,” Claudius said, lying as well, “that the ship carrying your statue was lost in a storm, and that another one is being prepared.”

“My statue—in the sea,” mourned Caligula. “Now Neptune will be angry with me!”

“He was already angry,” Claudius couldn’t resist saying. “About the seash—shells.”

“Enough about that—it was a joke! Surely Neptune has a sense of humor. But—let us return to planning my assembly. I want you and Agrippa to see to it that they are given the best accommodations. Bow and scrape to them if you must—such things are beneath the emperor. I want them to be thoroughly impressed. I am about to increase their tribute, so perhaps they won’t complain as much when they see our grandeur. Flavius, tell the prefect I want the Praetorians in excellent form! Uncle, you will have charge of those from the western provinces, and Agrippa those from the east.”

“When are they to arrive, your Majesty?” Agrippa asked.

“They should begin arriving within a week. The meetings will commence in two weeks or so.”

“Not much time to pre-prepare,” Claudius observed.

“How much time do you need! I told you about it a long time ago, Uncle. That was the time start pre-preparing!”

“I presume they have all answered your invitation?”

“I do not invite, Herod Agrippa. I command. And yes, they have all answered that they are coming—why would they not? I will have my secretary give you a list of names. Now, you weary me. I shall sleep until Jupiter withdraws his wrath…Flavius, see them out.”

The divine head disappeared. Flavius waited, spear in hand, as the two men rose and left the room, both looking harried and indignant. He sighed inwardly, resigning himself to several more hours of boredom…but at least he could think without interruption about how he was going to inform Paulus, and other believers, about this new threat. His wife, Susanna, had seen Simon in the forum the other day, and learned that Paulus was visiting Horatius’ villa outside of Rome. One day a week Flavius did not attend the emperor; perhaps on that day he could ride out to the villa.

Horatius’ slaves must not be aware of Paulus’ identity, or Alysia’s. They would probably have no opportunity to hear from someone, somewhere, that Paulus Valerius and his wife were being sought by Caligula, and even if they did hear such a thing, they wouldn’t know what he looked like. It was still risky, though, and Horatius would face an unpleasant fate should the emperor find out he had harbored Paulus on his property.

Flavius would go on the pretense that he wished to speak to Horatius’ guest about a business matter. He would not be in uniform; the slaves would think nothing of it. Or maybe he should ask Simon to go. Flavius’s scars always drew unwanted attention and made him memorable. If at any point in the future Caligula learned that Flavius had spoken to Paulus, his fate, too, would be unpleasant—to say the least. And then there would be no one in his position who could warn the community of believers of Caligula’s intentions.

Was that cowardly? Gladiators could be called many things…but “coward” was not one of them. He had a dread, however, of slow torture, and he knew what the emperor was capable of. He would have to think about that.

“Flavius, stop rattling about,” came a querulous voice. “How do you expect me to sleep a wink?”

His bodyguard unbuckled his sword and laid it aside. Since Caligula couldn’t see him, he sat down in a chair, and his gaze kept going back to his sword. He was one of the few permitted to carry a sword inside the palace—most of the guards carried javelins. It was an old rule—but rules were changing.

Again he wondered what he would do, if there was ever an attempt by others to put the emperor out of his misery.

 

* * *

“Can you help me? I am looking for someone.” Livias spoke in a warm, candid manner to the young woman, who was demurely dressed in a forest green gown, her palla draped over her head and shoulders. She held a basket of fruit and a wriggling white puppy in her arms, and stopped walking to glance at him warily. His forehead, almost bare of eyebrows, lifted in surprise.

“Daphne! I’d forgotten—you live near here, don’t you?”

They were on a street at the eastern end of the forum, not far from the Circus Maximus. Steam rose from the pavement after the recent thunderstorm, and with it strong and unpleasant odors.

“I don’t think I know you,” she said, and began walking again.

He strode alongside her. “Oh, you know me very well. But it’s been a year or so, since we…saw each other.”

She ignored him. Livias stared and wondered how he had recognized her, because she looked quite different. There were no cosmetics on her face, and it was softer somehow…

“If you will only answer a few questions I will stop following you,” he said, when it became obvious she wanted nothing to do with him. “Have you seen a man who looks like this?”

He withdrew the sketch of Paulus from the breast of his tunic and held it out for her to see. Her gaze flitted toward it curiously, and then fixed on the sheet of parchment. Livias knew at once that she had seen the man before. She seemed to realize she had made a mistake in her reaction, and her eyes moved and focused on the street before them.

“What is his name?” she asked indifferently.

“Paulus Valerius.”

“I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“You know a lot of men—whose names you don’t know.”

She stopped and looked at him earnestly. “I am no longer in that profession. Will you please leave me in peace?”

“Oh! What brought this about? You are one of the most sought—”

“What has the man done? Why do you seek him?”

Livias eyed her shrewdly. She might not willingly betray the man, but what about the woman?

“I seek him mainly because of his wife, a runaway slave who killed a man.”

This time Daphne’s shock was obvious. Livias grabbed her arm none too gently and said, “Where are they?”

“How should I know? I admit I’ve seen the man before, but I didn’t know his name or…or any of what you just said. I don’t believe it!”

“Where have you seen him? Is he a client of yours?”

“No!”

“Where then?”

“I’ve only seen him a few times, and I don’t know where they are now. They could be anywhere.”

He tightened his hold on her arm and she shrank away from him. “Where does he live?”

“How would I know that? I have nothing to tell you.”

Livias felt a surge of both frustration and triumph. She did have something to tell him, and he would see to it that she did. But he didn’t want to frighten her away…let her go home and think herself well rid of him. He would send Petronius and his men to her house, which he knew well, as soon as he could get word to him. And he’d have her watched in the meantime, by one of his own “helpers”.

His silver hair and dark eyes gleamed in the sunlight. Daphne seemed to repress a shudder as she stared at him. “Very well,” he said smoothly, releasing her arm. He realized for the first time the puppy was growling and yapping at him, and he smiled. “That’s a nice little dog. Where did you get him?”

“Her. At a marketplace, outside of Rome.”

“If you see this man again…you know where to find me. I will make it worth your trouble.”

“I don’t think I want to have anything to do with you, Livias.”

“I’m disappointed,” he said, still smiling. “About many things. But go your way, Daphne. I am sorry if I spoiled your day.”

She didn’t reply. He watched with narrowed eyes as she hurried along the street, with the puppy trying to climb over her shoulder, still barking at him.

* * *

When he broached the subject to Susanna, his wife was adamant that they should go and see Paulus and Alysia as soon as possible. Flavius felt ashamed that he’d even considered not going…and on the day of the week they were not required at the palace, they hired a small coach and rode out to Horatius’ villa. They arrived precisely at the supper hour, and the slaves ushered them to the courtyard where “Antonius” and his family were enjoying the evening meal. Paulus rose to greet them, pleased that they’d come, and Flavius and his wife gratefully sat down to dine.

It was a perfect late afternoon, with the air having cooled after the showers in recent days. The sun hung low in the west, and torches had already been lit around the long stone table and padded chairs. Servants hurriedly brought extra food and disappeared.

“It’s so good to see you again, Susanna,” Alysia said, smiling…touched at the thoughtfulness of their visit. “But I hope nothing is wrong?”

Susanna was short of stature and plump, with a round, pretty face. “Nothing is wrong—yet,” she answered, glancing with a smile of her own at Rachel. “And how are you, darling? Are you enjoying your time here? It’s so lovely!”

“Yes, we’ve been doing all sorts of things. Father has taught me how to ride a horse, and catch fish, and yesterday he taught me to swim! And Daphne was here until a few days ago. She bought a puppy at the market.”

“Oh, so you’ve seen Daphne? I’ve been worried about her.”

“Before she left,” Alysia answered, “she accepted the Lord.”

Susanna put a hand to her rosy cheek. “How happy that makes me! There is something about her that touches one’s heart…But Paulus—oh, I must call you ‘Antonius’, mustn’t I—whatever do you mean teaching this child how to ride a horse? She is a girl, after all, and it’s so dangerous!”

Flavius grinned at Paulus and laid his hand indulgently on his wife’s arm. “It’s not dangerous, if you know what you’re doing…and I’m certain Antonius is an excellent instructor.”

“We’ll have a room prepared for you…how long can you stay?” Alysia asked.

“Oh, we must leave tonight,” Susanna replied. “We must be back at our posts tomorrow. But thank you…otherwise we would be very glad to stay.”

Alysia glanced at Paulus and he was looking at her; something was wrong. It had grown dark and the lights flared around them. The slaves brought out desserts and a light wine. After more casual conversation, Alysia rose briefly to take Rachel to her room, and when she returned Susanna touched her hand with an air of apology.

“I hope we haven’t alarmed you. But there is something we thought you should know.”

In a low voice Flavius told them of Caligula’s plans…and threats. “And he means what he says—he is highly offended by Jesus’ claim to divinity.”

“We all know that Caligula is mad,” Paulus said soberly, “but with or without him, persecution will come. It may be gradual, it may be sudden, but it will come. Jesus said we would be hated, for his sake. It’s already happened in Jerusalem…it’s been going on there since the resurrection. I was hoping, though, for more time, until we were more in number, and stronger in faith.”

Flavius glanced around to make sure no one was within hearing distance. “Caligula may not survive another year—I’ve heard things, there’s a sense of something—brewing. Then I wonder what stance his successor will take.”

“Who do you think will succeed him?” Alysia asked.

Flavius shrugged. “He has no children, except for the little girl.”

“A monstrous child,” Susanna said. “I’ve never seen a child I couldn’t love, except for her…may God forgive me. She can’t play with other children—she claws and bites them, and has no respect for anyone. His nephew is too young, only three or four, scarcely older than the daughter. And almost as bad. At least he obeys his mother.” Susanna glanced at her husband. “There’s Claudius. But everybody thinks he’s a fool.”

“He’s far from being a fool,” Paulus answered. “And considering the choices, or lack of, I wouldn’t mind seeing him succeed Gaius. He might do well, if he’s let alone.”

“He has always spoken well of you…Antonius. I think he regrets Caligula’s determination to find you.”

“Thank you for telling me, Flavius. I admit I haven’t been able to understand Caligula’s interest, either in me or in finding Alysia, after all this time.”

“You are one of his obsessions. He doesn’t know you are a believer, so it isn’t that.”

“Obsessions?” Alysia asked, with a quizzical look.

“Women. Gambling on horses. Then for a while it was gladiators.” Flavius gave a self-deprecating smile. “And actors—one in particular. I think he sees your husband as something of a heroic figure, god-like perhaps. Caligula was present when he saved Tiberius. He saw him in command of his legion.” He glanced at Paulus. “You are, in certain ways, like his father. Possibly he wants to make you prefect of the Guard.”

“A position I’ve turned down before and wouldn’t hesitate to do so again,” Paulus remarked. “Although Caligula probably wouldn’t take it as well as Tiberius did.”

“No doubt,” Flavius said drolly. “As to why he wants to avenge the death of Eustacius after all this time, I don’t know. Not after all that’s happened since then, in Tiberius’ reign and his own. I suppose he sees it as a matter of upholding the law. One can’t say justice, because he doesn’t know the meaning of the word. And he only seeks to enforce laws when it is advantageous for him. He still sees you as an escaped slave, Alysia. Maybe he wants to make an example of you.”

Susanna reached out to touch one of Paulus’ hands and one of Alysia’s. “Try not to worry…but take care, both of you. Flavius, there is no need for you to frighten her half to death. And it is growing late.”

“I know, my dear wife, and you must rise very early to care for that poor, misbegotten—”

“Oh, we shouldn’t say such things, and I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” Susanna seemed remorseful. “She’s just a child. I try to show love toward her, since I can’t feel it!”

“She is exactly like her father,” Flavius answered. “And enough said about that. I’m sorry, but it is a long way. We must go—we’ll sleep in the carriage on the way.”

“You didn’t frighten me, Flavius, but we appreciate the warning,” Alysia said, as they all stood up. “We’re so glad you came.” She linked her arm through her husband’s. “Please be in prayer for Paulus. He is going to speak in the marketplace tomorrow—a discussion with the philosophers.”

“Of course we will,” said Susanna with interest. “And we have delayed you…you probably wanted to spend the evening in prayer yourselves.”

“There is time, and like my wife I’m very glad you came,” Paulus said. “May God be with you both.”

“And with you,” Flavius said, clasping his arm. “But I’m surprised…a public debate, so close to Rome?”

“An opportunity that God provided in an unusual way, Flavius. What choice do I have but to trust him?”

“Someday,” said his friend, “I hope to trust him as much as you do.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIV

 

It had been a long time since Paulus had engaged in rhetoric, aside from the casual speaking form he employed when teaching. He had, of course, studied it as a youth…it was required of all young Roman men and was considered an indispensable skill. As city prefect, he had given his fair share of speeches, and hated it. Strange that he didn’t mind it when he was in the army and speaking to his legion…it seemed a completely different thing, somehow.

He wasn’t quite sure what to expect today. At least the sky was clear, and there was a cool breeze. He easily walked the two miles to the marketplace and headed toward the grove of trees at the far end. He wore a plain, belted tunic—and no cloak. He had certainly been seen well enough the last time he was here, and it wouldn’t be to anyone’s advantage for him to stand and attempt to speak, half-concealed.