Day 3, Friday

DAY OF VENUS/APHRODITE

THE POUNDING ON THE DOOR WAS LOUD. Very loud. Anthia was awake and had been for some time, but she touched her husband to wake him. “Philetus.” He blinked and rose, walking the few steps to the door. It opened to Lampo’s anxious face.

“Euxinus has a fever.” His pronouncement stole Anthia’s breath, and she looked to Philetus for a response.

“What do you need?”

“I am going to petition Asclepius, the god of healing, on behalf of my son. He is weak, and we are afraid to move him. Will you send Anthia to petition Artemis, our great protector?” He pressed a small bag of grain into Philetus’s hand.

“Of course,” Philetus replied. “We will help.” Lampo left, and Philetus picked up a piece of bread and a few figs. “I will be with Galleos and a few others again today. Do what you can to help my cousin and Eutaxia, and I will be back midday.” He dropped the grain into her outstretched hands and left.

Anthia looked around the room, noting her aunt’s worried face and her father’s exhausted stare. As usual, Andrew had left in the predawn darkness to advertise his labor in the agora. That left her and Penelope, but between them they had a pregnant belly and three children.

When she was sure that Philetus was gone, she stood up to use the chamber pot. She inspected it afterwards, noting the blood in her urine. I cannot think about that right now. Eutaxia needs me. She packed a few pieces of bread and two figs for herself and Nikias, then glanced at Penelope.

Penelope bound her baby to her chest, talking while she did so. “Today I’ll take him. I know exactly where I’m going, and it’s nearby. I talked with a farmer’s wife yesterday just outside the city whose husband will be busy all day selling their harvest at the agora. She will allow me to glean from the leftovers in the field. I’ll also take Demarchos,” she said, gesturing for her three-year-old to join her. “He can be helpful today and work alongside me.” Anthia nodded silently, and Penelope was gone.

She grabbed Nikias’s hand and walked next door.

She knocked softly and entered without waiting for a response. Eutaxia’s worried face looked up from her place on the floor, where she was sitting next to her son’s prostrate body. “He’s burning up. It started several hours ago and has only gotten worse.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what else to do.” Anthia wanted to hug her friend, but her fear for her own son’s health kept her at the door.

“I’m going to help. Nikias and I will go to the Artemesion.” She forced herself to project confidence. “He’ll be fine. I know it.” Eutaxia smiled weakly and nodded.

Anthia marched quickly down the stairs and out into the street. Nikias complained at her tight grip, but she shushed him impatiently. She wanted to run, but her belly made it impossible. She settled for walking quickly, half-dragging Nikias at her side. Willing herself not to cry, she focused on her destination, ignoring the busyness of the street and the smells of food, animals, and sewage. Suddenly an imperial statue caught her eye. Caesar. Claudius. Could you help us? You’ve filled our city with your likeness; would you stoop to save a child who is his father’s only heir? Her heart pounded in fear as her thoughts raced. Euxinus looked terrible, even from across the room. . . . What will Eutaxia do if she loses another child? . . . What caused his sickness? Is one of the gods angry with Eutaxia or Lampo? . . . What if Nikias becomes ill as well? Suddenly the Artemision loomed before her, its imposing size, as usual, making her feel small and unworthy. She walked quickly past famous sculptures and paintings, heading straight for the area where the priestesses often spent time. A woman was there, prostrate in prayer, though she rose and listened to Anthia’s anxious story. She accepted the small bag of grain and promised to offer incense to Artemis, asking for the goddess to spare the life of Euxinus.

Figure 3.1. An artist’s rendering of the temple of Artemis

Anthia didn’t stay to watch the process; she rushed back, stopping only at a fountain to get a drink of water for herself and Nikias. From the top of the stairs in the insula she could see that Eutaxia’s door was open, and the reason became clear as she got closer. Zotike. Eutaxia’s sister Zotike had also been part of Anthia’s childhood, though she was several years older.

Medicine and Physicians

Physicians in the ancient world were mostly male, while midwives were female. First- and second-century Ephesus boasted two famous male doctors, though only the wealthy elite could afford such services. There was a lot of misunderstanding about the human body, and medicines and treatments often contained elements of folklore. The poor, who couldn’t afford the services of physicians, often resorted to folk healers, herbalists, and snake charmers. Known medicines involved vegetables such as cabbage, herbs such as dill and cumin, and ointments of sulfide, myrrh, and copper oxides.

Because of the limited treatments offered by physicians, people from all classes and status levels sought help at the shrines of healing gods such as Asclepius, the patron god of physicians. He was called “Savior” by his devotees, and his famous symbol of intertwined snakes on a staff is known even today. Some of his shrines had been built up into large complexes, with spaces for treatment, libraries, baths, and latrines. Patients sometimes slept at these shrines, awaiting a dream from Asclepius, which would be interpreted by priests.

Zotike stood up and met her in the doorway. “Stay here. Keep Nikias away from Euxinus.” Anthia assumed that Philetus had sent Zotike, and Zotike confirmed it. “Philetus stopped by this morning on his way to the temple of Asclepius. He asked me to visit my sister and nephew today, and to pray to the gods—many gods—with him.” She paused. “Euxinus’s fever is so high . . . I don’t think I’ve ever touched skin that is so hot.”

Zotike got out a small pouch, then turned and walked to where Euxinus lay. She removed a pinch of something that appeared to be a dried herb and inserted it into her nephew’s mouth. Anthia watched from the doorway, afraid to enter.

“Can I bring some water?” she asked, desperate to be given a meaningful task that would take her and Nikias away from the room.

“Yes!” Zotike barked urgently. “Will you take your own jar to the fountain? Eutaxia’s is filled with rags that we are using to try to cool his skin. He needs water to drink, if we can get him to do it.” Anthia fled from the doorway to her own home, breathing heavily. Nikias whined and asked to go back and play.

I wonder if I have time to take him to Phoebe’s, she thought desperately. Anything to get him away from this sickness. She lifted their water jar and walked to the stairs, dragging Nikias past his friend’s door. “No, Nikias! Not today!” Her heart sank even as she added the words, “Maybe tomorrow.” She knew the situation was dire.

As she walked to the fountain she considered her options again. Should she go straight to the fountain, or did she have time to take Nikias to Phoebe’s first? It wasn’t that far away, though it would take several minutes to walk there.

“Dorema!” a mother called nearby, “Come here!” The mention of her friend’s name stopped her in her tracks, and she watched the young child run to her mother, her dark hair unbound and bouncing with each step.

Too much death, she thought angrily. No more. I’m taking him to Phoebe’s.

Phoebe opened the door with a smile that froze the instant she saw Anthia’s face. Her curly hair was even wilder today than usual, and her olive skin shimmered with perspiration. Her baby was tied to her back, sleeping. “What is it? Your bleeding? The baby?” She reached for Anthia’s arms and pulled her into a hug. “Tell me.”

Textiles

Working with textiles was a common occupation in the ancient world. Guilds of clothiers, linen workers, wool merchants, and dyers all participated in the textile production process. Wool work, often done by women, was also portrayed symbolically throughout the Greco-Roman world as the appropriate activity of a virtuous woman in the home. Because wool, goat hair, and linen were used not only for clothing but for sails, tents, and sun awnings, the materials were in high demand.

Figure 3.2. A distaff used for spinning wool. Working with textiles was a common occupation in the ancient world

The stages of the process employed many people. Sheep and goats were raised for their wool and hair, as were plants such as flax for their fibers. These materials were often dyed as part of the process of production for the wealthy, though much of the population would have worn simple clothing that was made from undyed wool. For at least some of the population in the first century, linen (rather than wool) undergarments were the new standard.

Wool needed to be spun, and women would place raw wool on a distaff and hold it, often under an arm. The other arm was used for spinning the fibers, creating thread that was wound onto a spindle. Women would often prop their feet onto a stool and use a protective covering over their clothing to protect it from being stained by grease and dirt. After spinning, the thread or yarn was woven into fabric on a loom, and then it could be used to make clothing and other products.

Figure 3.3. A Roman loom. After spinning, thread or yarn was woven into fabric on a loom and then used to make clothing and other products

Tarsus, the apostle Paul’s hometown, was famous for linen weavers and the use of Cilician goat hair for making tents that were exceptionally heat- and water-resistant. Ephesus was noted for its towel weavers, who had organized themselves into a guild for their mutual benefit and prosperity.

Anthia broke down and cried. Between sobs she gasped, “I’m still bleeding. I don’t know what to do. And now Euxinus is sick. His fever is so high, he’s burning up. I’m afraid for Nikias.”

Phoebe nodded calmly. “I’ll keep Nikias, of course.” She glanced toward where he was already playing with her daughter. “Isidora will be thrilled if he stays, even overnight.” She paused, then gestured around the room, where several of her female relatives, including her mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and two nieces were sitting with their distaffs or looms, spinning or weaving wool. Most of the wool they were using had already been dyed; there was red, blue, and even purple. Clearly there was a contract in play with a wealthy family or perhaps a nearby clothier. Anthia noted—not for the first time—that the grim look Phoebe’s mother-in-law wore was matched by the way she pulled her hair tightly into the roll at the back of her neck. The woman intimidated her, and Anthia took a step back involuntarily. “One of my nieces will watch him,” Phoebe added. “I have work to do, but it should be fine.”

“Thank you.” Anthia composed herself and straightened her shoulders. “I have to go. Eutaxia and Zotike need water, and I told them I’d get it.”

“Go,” Phoebe said, waving her hand for emphasis. “We’re fine here.”

Anthia could feel the sweat dropping down into her strophium, the band of cloth encircling her chest, as she carried the jar to the fountain. I wish it was winter, she thought briefly. From the moment she got pregnant she had been hot—always hot—and the weather just made her more uncomfortable. She noticed a little naked boy playing in a puddle. Enjoy it now, she counseled silently. In just a year or two you will be working alongside the rest of your family.

At the fountain she was obliged to sit to fill her jug. She immersed her hands and arms in the cool water as she filled the jug, savoring the relief it offered. She lifted it to her belly and rested it on the top, balancing it with her hands. She knew from experience that she couldn’t hold it out in front of her without support. Usually the baby kicked when she constricted his space like this, but today there was no response. All she could feel was the dull pain in her abdomen that had started with the bleeding. She prayed again to Artemis as she walked. A glance upward revealed another imperial statue, and Anthia offered a prayer to Caesar as well. Who will help? she wondered.

Anthia heard Lampo’s voice before she saw him. “I was sure that Asclepius or Artemis would hear my request and respond! We used the last of our grain for the sacrificial incense and libations! How can his fever be worse?” The anger in his voice was mixed with anguish. She carried the water jug to the women and set it down. Feeling helpless, she backed up and stood against the wall.

Zotike spoke slowly. “There is one other thing we could try.”

Lampo considered his son’s listless body before answering. “What is it? And why haven’t you brought it up before now?” In response Zotike reached for a wet rag. She folded it and placed it on her nephew’s forehead. Impatient, Lampo’s voice increased in volume. “What, woman? Tell me.”

“There is a man named Paul who teaches in the lecture hall of Tyrannus near the Tetragonos Agora,” she began.

Anthia’s ears roared. Paul again! But how could a teacher help? She focused her attention when she realized that Zotike was still talking.

“ . . . named Jesus who is the ultimate healer. He is a worshiper of this Jesus and can heal in his name. I heard a story from a woman at the water fountain yesterday; she said that she had been bleeding for years, but when her son brought her an apron that Paul had touched, it healed her.”

Lampo’s surprise was palpable. “Why haven’t I heard of Paul if he is such a great healer?”

“He is a Jew who only recently came to Ephesus,” Zotike answered. “At first he only taught in the Jewish synagogue, but now he is teaching publicly for all who wish to hear.”

Lampo pondered this new information, and Anthia silently wondered how much information Zotike possessed. She must know more than she’s saying. Perhaps I should speak up? . . . No, I do not have answers, just questions.

She was still waffling when Lampo spoke. “A Jew? So this is a Jewish god?” Zotike’s nod was his only answer. “Do we risk offending our gods by petitioning this Jewish god as well?”

“If we do not take that risk, Euxinus may die,” Zotike affirmed.

“I will go to find this man Paul,” Lampo decided.

Anthia, Eutaxia, and Zotike waited in the hot room. She’s really worried, thought Anthia, noting her friend’s quiet mood. Normally she’s so talkative. There really wasn’t enough for all three of them to do, but none of them was willing to leave the support of their small sisterhood in that moment. There was also the question of Paul’s help, and Anthia was curious to hear of Lampo’s visit.

“It is time to rest and eat a few bites,” Zotike announced.

“I am not hungry,” came Eutaxia’s whispered response, and Anthia added her agreement.

“You don’t get a choice,” Zotike stated flatly, and Anthia tried not to smile at the way it reminded her of Eutaxia.

Eutaxia when she’s not in crisis, anyway, she considered. She took the piece of flat cake offered by Zotike and was surprised when Zotike grabbed her arm as well.

“Go home and lie down for a while,” she ordered, spinning her to face the door. “Eutaxia told me about the bleeding. We’ll be fine here while we wait for Lampo. I need to help Eutaxia get some mending done anyway; some customers are expecting it.”

Anthia obeyed, feeling relieved. She knew that her body could use the rest, and besides, she would hear when Lampo returned. She walked next door, and even in those few steps, she could feel the wetness on her thighs. Once inside, she surveyed the still forms of her father and aunt. I’m glad they’re sleeping. Andrew and Penelope were both still out, as she had expected. She turned her back to the sleeping forms and quickly inspected the rag, washed herself, and put a clean rag in place. She lay down on the mat and savored the relief it gave to her back and feet. She listened to the noises of her neighbors—babies crying, voices arguing, someone singing, metal clicking—there was never a quiet moment here. The ache in her belly was still there, and she massaged her skin with both hands while she waited for the baby to kick back. Nothing happened. She rubbed more vigorously, intent on jarring him into action. Still nothing. Come on, baby, come on, baby. She matched the rhythm of her words to the movement of her hands, hoping for some response. After a while her arms ached, and she stopped. Then a new fear occurred to her. If my baby is dead, I will still have to give birth to him. How will I have the strength? She began praying to Artemis, then Asclepius. She wondered whether she should pray to Paul, or perhaps the Jesus he had mentioned. Jesus, she began hesitatingly. Save the son in my belly. Please.

She must have dozed, because Lampo’s voice startled her into consciousness. “I have it, I have it!” he was exclaiming triumphantly.

Anthia rose quickly, eager to see what Lampo had brought with him and hear the details of the encounter. She wanted to walk over immediately, but she needed to use the chamber pot first. Everything is squished in there, she reflected, squatting uncomfortably. I feel like I’m always needing the chamber pot or the latrine. She noted the lack of bleeding and silently rejoiced, then stood to adjust the cloth wrapped around her hips and between her legs. Ow! she exclaimed, touching her left rib cage where a strong kick had jarred her. That was a big one. Her initial excitement wavered as she remembered what she had done prior to her nap. I prayed to Jesus. Did he cause my son to kick, or was it Artemis? Fear gripped her, but she told herself not to focus on it. Not now. Now is about Euxinus.

No one looked up as she entered; they were all examining a small piece of cloth. “What is that?” Anthia asked in puzzlement.

They hesitated, and finally Lampo spoke. “A handkerchief that Paul has touched.”

Anthia shivered as she walked closer to see for herself. “Looks like a typical rag or small towel. Do you think it could actually work? And where did you get it?” She knew, of course, that items like this could mediate the power of a god, but she had never seen it for herself.

Lampo adjusted his sandal strap and tilted his head as he looked at her. His dark eyes were bright and clear. “From Paul. I found him near the lecture hall, as Zotike said I would. He was surrounded by a crowd—a mob, really—and it took me a while to edge my way up to him. When I was finally close enough, I told him about Euxinus. I begged him to heal our son and told him that while I couldn’t pay him, I would be willing to trade services at our fullery if he needed anything laundered.” Lampo shook his head in disbelief. “Paul didn’t want money. He said that he isn’t healing in his own power; he is healing in the name of a man named Jesus, and Jesus heals as a demonstration of the kind of lord he is. He is a ruler who heals and restores; those are the priorities of his kingdom. I told him that I’d never heard of a lord who didn’t want something in return, and Paul laughed at me. Laughed! He said, ‘Oh yes, Lampo, he does want something in return. You. Your loyalty and commitment to honor him and no other lords. But you can choose whether you want to do that. It’s up to you.’”

“Wait.” Eutaxia looked at each of them in turn, filtering her thoughts as she prepared to speak. “So this Jesus will heal to demonstrate who he is and how much power he has, and he wants our loyalty in return, but he doesn’t require it to heal? I don’t understand this god. It doesn’t make sense.”

“We can discuss that later,” Zotike stated flatly. “When did he give you the handkerchief? And did he tell you how to use it? Do we need to say anything? An incantation of some kind, perhaps where we repeat Jesus’ name again and again? A prayer?”

Lampo again shook his head. “He told me that he wished he could come to see Euxinus and pray for him in the name of Jesus, but there were so many others in the crowd who were waiting to speak with him. He handed me this handkerchief and told me to touch Euxinus with it. Then . . .” Lampo hesitated, clearing his throat.

“Then, what?” demanded Zotike. “If there are further instructions, we need to know.”

“No, it’s not that,” Lampo clarified. “After giving me the handkerchief, Paul clasped me by the shoulders and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Until next time, brother,’ he said.” The group stood in silence while they considered this.

Finally, Eutaxia spoke up. “We can discuss Paul later. Let’s see if this works.” She took the handkerchief and laid it out carefully on Euxinus’s chest. Anthia noted his shallow breathing, realizing she was holding her own breath. They watched and waited.

“How long—” Zotike’s question was interrupted by Euxinus, who raised his arm and rubbed his eye. Startled, they all watched to see what he would do next. He opened his eyes and sat up, yawning. He seemed confused by the four adult faces that were looking so intently at him, but his first priority was clear. “I thirsty. My tummy hungry.” He raised his eyebrows hopefully, glancing from one face to the next.

Anthia felt faint. She sat down—too quickly, she realized, as her hand and right thigh bumped hard on the floor. Eutaxia paused only for a moment, answering quickly while touching Euxinus’s forehead with her hand. “Of course, my son. Would you like some water and bread?” She looked around the room and mouthed “fever gone” while she stood, and Lampo knelt to see for himself.

“You aren’t hot,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“No, Daddy, not hot. Hungry. Hungry.” Euxinus corrected. “What this?” he continued, picking up the handkerchief that had fallen into his lap as he sat.

Lampo’s laughter answered him. “That, my son, is a miracle.”

Clearly uninterested in his father’s explanation, Euxinus stood and ran to his mother’s legs, chanting “hungry, hungry.” She handed him a cup of water and a piece of bread, and he greedily accepted her offerings.

Eutaxia’s smile radiated through the room as she turned to Zotike and Anthia. “He’s well! Thank the gods!”

Lampo corrected her gently. “No, Eutaxia, thank Jesus.”

Eutaxia pursed her lips then nodded. “Yes, thank Jesus. He healed my son.” She began to jump up and down, laughing and crying. Her celebration was contagious, and Anthia found herself joining her friend, though her belly required lower jumps. I’ve never seen Eutaxia like this, she thought. Zotike was next, and finally even Lampo joined in, his bellowing laughter filling the small room. The banging of the door caused all of them to turn. Philetus was standing in the doorway with a confused look on his face.

“Philetus!” Lampo enjoined. “There you are, my cousin!”

Bewildered, Philetus answered. “I’m sorry for returning so late. I meant to come earlier, but Galleos and I were having great luck while fishing.” He hesitated, looking at the faces of Anthia, Lampo, Eutaxia, and Zotike. His gaze finally shifted behind them, to where Euxinus was stuffing the last bit of bread into his mouth. Philetus’s mouth gaped when Euxinus gulped the last of his water and burped loudly. “What . . .” he began.

“He’s healed, Philetus.” Eutaxia’s declaration clearly didn’t satisfy Philetus, who persisted.

“How was he healed? Which god restored him? Was it Asclepius? Or Artemis?”

The group glanced at each other and finally Lampo spoke. “Have you heard of the man named Paul who teaches and dialogues in the lecture hall of Tyrannus?” The question clearly surprised Philetus, but he nodded. “It was his god, the one named Jesus, who healed Euxinus.”

“But . . . how?” was all that Philetus could muster. “Isn’t he Jewish?”

This time Eutaxia spoke. “Zotike met a woman at the fountain who was healed by an apron that Paul had touched. Artemis and Asclepius were not responding—apparently they were not pleased with our petitions—and Euxinus was only declining. We decided it was worth a try.”

“But how did you find a handkerchief that Paul had touched? And why would Paul heal a non-Jew?” Philetus was clearly finding his bearings; the relevant questions were finally coming.

Lampo stepped forward as he began to talk. “I went to find him. I waited with a crowd near the lecture hall until I was close enough to talk with him. He didn’t even ask if I was Jewish, he just listened while I told him about Euxinus. Then he gave me this handkerchief and called me ‘brother.’”

”But—but I thought Jesus was a man, not a god,” Philetus said. “When I heard Paul talking with someone else a couple of days ago, that’s what it sounded like.”

“He didn’t say anything about that, and I didn’t ask. But . . .” Lampo thought for a moment. “That would be like our emperors, who are also both human and divine.” He smiled a bit, looking satisfied with this solution. “The most important part is that it worked,” he added. “Look at my son!” The adults all turned to look, and Euxinus sensed the sets of eyes on him, freezing in place. A small piece of bread was hanging out of his mouth.

“Euxinus!” exclaimed Eutaxia. “That bread was for dinner!” But then she laughed. She picked him up, kissing his face and laughing.

“Well . . . this is cause for a celebration!” proclaimed Philetus. “Our catch of fish today was massive. Anthia, it’s time to come to the fish stall and sell them. Tonight we’ll celebrate.”

As they walked to Phoebe’s, Anthia marveled at Euxinus’s health. “Did you see him eat, Philetus?”

“I couldn’t miss it,” Philetus answered with a smile.

“He seems to be in even better health than before he got sick!”

“Maybe Lampo will indeed have a son carry on his name,” Philetus added. “When their other babies died shortly after birth, and then when Euxinus survived but was so weak, I wondered if Lampo’s line would end with him. It appears not.”

They passed another statue of the emperor, and Anthia pondered again the idea that Jesus could be both human and divine.

Suddenly, a cry of “Mama!” interrupted her reverie. She scanned the area ahead for the face of her son and found him near Phoebe’s daughter Isidora in the street. One of Phoebe’s nieces was with them. “Hello, Basilissa,” she greeted the eight-year-old. “Thank you for watching him.” The girl nodded shyly, glancing sideways at Philetus. “May I speak briefly with Phoebe?” Anthia asked her husband. “I would like to tell her about Euxinus and invite their family to the celebration.” Philetus grunted his approval, pointing toward the public latrines nearby. He walked toward them, and Anthia scooped up Euxinus and walked to her friend’s apartment.

As she knocked she could hear the chatter of women, and when another niece opened the door, Anthia could see the women busily working. “Anthia!” called Phoebe, quickly standing and leaving her loom to walk toward the door. As she walked, she adjusted her baby, who was nursing while wrapped in a sling around her chest. Her worried eyes searched Anthia’s face.

“Tell me,” she demanded. “Has something happened to Euxinus?”

In that moment Anthia realized that her friend assumed the worst; why else would she have returned so quickly? She decided to be direct. “He’s healed. He’s fine, and healthy, and eating and drinking nonstop.”

Phoebe’s surprise was apparent. “Asclepius? Artemis?”

Anthia shook her head. “No, Jesus. The one the man Paul, who teaches in the lecture hall, worships.” Anthia knew her friend had many questions, but she also knew there were many fish to sell. “Come tonight to eat dinner with us and Lampo and Eutaxia. We are going to celebrate Euxinus’s health. And I’ll tell you the whole story then. I need to go now and sell fish.”

Her friend’s eyes signaled both understanding and impatience. “Fine, then,” Phoebe said. “I suppose I’ll have to wait. I’ll send a few of the older children to tell my husband.”

Philetus walked up and gestured impatiently, and Anthia picked up Nikias, who squirmed unhappily in her arms.

Anthia set him down as they walked to the agora, grabbing his hand instead. I just can’t carry him with my big belly, she thought for the hundredth time. There’s no room for him. She used her free hand to push on her belly while she walked, again trying to provoke a response from within. Nothing. She wondered again about the power of Jesus. Could he save my baby? Would he? Does it matter that I am not Jewish? It did not matter for Euxinus. Perhaps . . . ?

Her musing was interrupted by shouts coming from a crowd up ahead. Philetus was also curious, and he quickened his already-brisk pace to see what was happening. As they grew closer, Anthia could see a man being restrained by several other men. He was clearly trying to get away, and it looked almost like a wrestling match. Suddenly the man growled. His back arched and contorted in what looked to be a humanly impossible way, and one by one he picked up the men restraining him and threw them to the ground. Anthia gasped along with the crowd, which grew silent when the man spoke. “My name is Legion,” he declared.

A woman near Anthia whispered to the woman next to her, “It is the demon again. That is not my husband Philip. That is not his voice. It’s the demon’s voice.” She was holding a small piece of cloth in her hand, and in a flash Anthia realized what was happening. The woman nodded at the group of men, who leaped together on the man in the next moment.

As they did, the woman ran forward and covered her husband’s head with the handkerchief. What started as another growl grew and morphed into a screech. The crowd watched in stunned silence as he hunched into a fetal position, his body rolling in wave-like movements. The men holding him moved away one by one until he was alone. He began speaking in a language that Anthia did not understand, but then she caught a word that she knew. He screamed it, extending the sound for several seconds.

“JEEEEESUUUUS!”

Anthia felt as if she’d been slapped. She grabbed for Philetus’s hand, feeling faint for the second time that day. She watched as the man slumped, his body relaxing. He lay on the ground quietly, as if sleeping. Suddenly his eyes opened, and he sat up. His posture was expectant, and it reminded Anthia of Euxinus earlier.

The next question only encouraged the comparison, for the man stated, in a different voice than he had used earlier, “I’m thirsty. May I have some water?”

The crowd was electrified by this statement, and everyone began talking at once. Except Anthia. She watched as the woman who had placed the cloth on her husband’s head ran forward and embraced him, weeping. He hugged her back, weeping along with her. A couple of young men broke free from the crowd and joined them, crying and laughing. The scene was reminiscent of the one that Anthia had participated in earlier that day, and the parallel struck her to her core.

“Jesus,” she breathed. “Your power is truly enormous.” She wanted to continue watching them, but when Philetus touched her shoulder and pointed toward the agora, she nodded in agreement. They had work to do.

They walked quietly toward their fish stall, each processing what they had just seen. “Did you hear what the man said?” questioned Philetus.

“Yes,” she answered, then paused, almost afraid to say it out loud. “Jesus.”

Philetus shook his head in confusion. “What is happening? And what of Artemis and her honor? She will not appreciate another god usurping her role as protector and savior of Ephesus. She is the one who keeps us healthy.”

Anthia felt the tension as well. This cannot end well, she thought silently.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of haggling, trading, and selling. Anthia’s proudest moment had been when she sold one large mackerel for a denarius. A day’s wage! she celebrated inwardly. That woman must have been in a hurry, or perhaps she’s so wealthy that the price doesn’t matter. The catch was indeed huge, but the agora was filled with people. The crowds were also talking about what had just happened outside the agora in the street. News sure travels fast, Anthia noted, when the third person in a row asked her about it. “Yes, I was there,” she confirmed, telling the story again.

“I heard,” her customer added, “that a little boy was healed this morning through another handkerchief touched by Paul. Do you know anything about that?” Anthia hesitated, wondering how much to share. The look on her face must have given it away, because the woman pressed her with another question. “Were you present for that one as well? Tell me, is it true?” Anthia glanced to her right, noticing that a couple of the other wives whose husbands were fishermen in their association were listening as well.

“Um . . .” began Anthia. Her mind worked frantically, trying to decide how much was safe to tell. She was beginning to think that her presence at the two healings was unfortunate. Will this make me a target of Artemis’s anger? she wondered? Will she refuse to save my baby because of this?

A new customer pushed her way up to the counter and interrupted, granting Anthia a reprieve. “Will you trade one of those tuna for some barley flour and olive oil?” she asked, pointing to the row of hanging fish.

“It’s possible,” Anthia replied. “How much flour and oil?”

The women settled the transaction, and Anthia turned back to the woman who was still waiting for an answer. She hesitated again when she felt a trickle of blood moving down her thigh. Artemis, she reminded herself silently. “I don’t know,” she told the woman. “I wasn’t there.” Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for the woman’s response. Thankfully, the woman turned and left.

Anthia enjoyed the steam rising from the hot water. What a treat. Two days in a row, she celebrated silently. She lifted Nikias’s leg from the water so that she could inspect his legs and feet. “Dirty,” she declared, “especially the bottom. Were you playing in mud this morning at Phoebe’s?” Anthia wished that they could afford leather sandals for him, but he grew so quickly that it didn’t make sense to spend so much on an item of luxury.

Figure 3.4. A bathhouse in Ephesus

Today the bath was full; there were many more people than yesterday, including more children and women. The water was moving and churning as children swam and adults climbed in and out. Anthia smiled at the young woman next to her, who also had a big belly, and the woman smiled back. She leaned back and listened to the chatter and noises as she planned her contributions for the celebration that evening. Let’s see . . . I need to make some maza cakes, now that I have some barley flour and olive oil. She could buy bread, as the fish had sold well that afternoon, but she had decided to put the money toward a different kind of treat. Pork. She could hardly wait to taste the pork sausages she and Philetus had purchased from a vendor. The bite that Eutaxia had shared yesterday only increased her craving. Philetus had also traded fish for a few onions and turnips, and those needed to be cooked. That shouldn’t take too long, she told herself. We have plenty of time to finish that before the others come. She checked on Nikias—he was still near her, splashing—and then arched her back in an attempt to stretch the front side of her body. A sharp pain hit her in the belly as she moved, and she tensed and froze as she processed it. She glanced down at her belly and noticed the blood in the water, and she swirled the water with her hand in a desperate attempt to hide it. She glanced around the room, checking faces to see if anyone had noticed. Behind one man’s shoulder, the face of a statue stared back at her. Artemis! Her heart sank. She grabbed Nikias and held him, confident that his movement would keep the water swirling and hide the blood. “I’m taking him to the frigidarium,” she told Philetus after touching his shoulder.

He turned from his conversation with the men near him and nodded in response. “I’ll be there in a bit,” he added. “We’re discussing the healings that happened today.” With that, Anthia escaped, taking Nikias with her.

In the warm room Anthia stirred the turnips and onions that were cooking in salt and olive oil on the brazier. Her aunt Eirene had already prepared the barley flour and oil, and she and Penelope were now forming the maza cakes. The children were playing, and Andrew would hopefully return soon from whatever work he had found that day in the agora. She was grateful to be able to sit while she worked, as it helped to keep the rag in place. She could hear Eutaxia and Lampo next door. For once they weren’t arguing. They actually sound like they’re enjoying each other, she marveled. They didn’t ever argue in public, of course; Eutaxia was careful to be appropriately respectful and publicly honor her husband. In their one-room home, however, Eutaxia’s strong opinions often made themselves known, as did Lampo’s anger. But right now they were laughing quietly.

Someone knocked on their door, and Anthia could hear Lampo walk to answer it. “Father! Come in.”

Anthia knew their arrival meant that Philetus had returned as well. Lampo had asked his cousin to find his parents, who lived on the other end of the city. They were Lampo’s only immediate family in Ephesus, though of course there were cousins and other extended relatives. His father, Linus, had come to Ephesus to seek better prospects from Hypaipa, a village nearby, as a young man, bringing his new wife with him. His wife had given birth to Lampo first, but the three children born after him had not survived infancy. Lampo’s mother had died in childbirth with the fifth baby, and the woman now married to his father was his stepmother, though she was nearer to Lampo’s age than her husband’s. Lampo’s father, however, was still remarkably strong and healthy. His much younger wife had proven to be barren, so Lampo was his father’s only hope for continuing the family line.

Anthia listened for her husband’s voice but heard nothing. She turned to check on Nikias, who was supposed to be playing on the bedmat, but her eyes stopped when they reached the open doorway. Philetus stood there, a deep frown creasing his face. What have I done now? she wondered, sensing that the anger was directed at her.

“Why aren’t you helping my cousin and Eutaxia right now?” Philetus demanded, striding toward her.

Anthia leaned back instinctively. “I am helping. I’m cooking food for tonight.” She gestured toward the turnips and onions in the brazier. She dared not look at her aunt or Penelope, who continued their work on the maza cakes without commenting.

“You are too slow. This should be finished, and you should be next door, greeting Lampo’s parents.” Philetus insisted. “Get up now.”

As she struggled to stand quickly, his hand reached for her arm. “Ouch!” she said, instantly wishing she could take the word back.

“Ouch?” he hissed quietly, aware of the thinness of the walls. “Ouch?” He stared at her and tightened his grip, watching her reaction. As the pain increased, Anthia forced herself to breathe normally.

“I am so sorry,” she said quickly. “You are right. I am slow.” Satisfied, he released her arm and turned toward Nikias, telling him to bring his toy and walk next door. “I’ll be there in a moment,” she promised.

The mood was celebratory, and Anthia did her best to pretend to join in. Her arm ached, but the growing pain in her abdomen concerned her the most. It didn’t feel like contractions; Anthia was well aware of the distinct contours of that kind of pain. Phoebe’s arrival had been a godsend. Phoebe took one look at her face and demanded that she sit and rest because of the advanced stage of her pregnancy. Philetus, unsure of how to respond, said nothing, which allowed Anthia some respite.

The whole group was packed into the one-room apartment shared by Lampo and Eutaxia, and the rest of the adults were still standing. Anthia, because of her position on the floor, was at eye level with the children, who were running and weaving through the adults. The conversation was focused on Euxinus and his amazing recovery, and Anthia was listening carefully. Lampo’s father, while happy that his only grandchild was still alive, was concerned about the rising popularity of a new god in Ephesus. “At what point does this god’s prominence begin to shame Artemis?” he asked worriedly. “There is also the question of Asclepius. . . . We live on the other side of the city, and we have heard as well about the other healings, including the casting out of evil spirits. If Artemis is shamed, that will only damage us as well.”

“Please, sit and eat,” Eutaxia invited, gesturing toward the plates and bowls of food that were placed in a circle in the middle of the room. They all sat, each with their legs crossed. An image flitted across Anthia’s mind of all of them reclining, as the wealthy did, and she suppressed a smile. We wouldn’t all fit in this space if we were reclining.

Philetus grabbed a sausage and wrapped it in a piece of flat cake. “I agree, Linus. We need to be careful. I wonder also about the man Paul, who teaches about Jesus and is healing in his name. Lampo,” he added, turning to his cousin, “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier—that he called you ‘brother.’ He’s a Jew, so you obviously can’t be related in any way. He’s also a tentmaker—he works in a shop near our fishing stall in the agora—so he’s an artisan, and based on what I’ve seen of the fine tents he makes and the elite customers he serves, he’s of a higher status than we are. What do you make of that?”

Lampo hesitated, clearly searching for the right words. “I’m not sure.”

Eutaxia spoke next. “I heard Paul teaching yesterday, and he said that Jesus changes the way that Jews interact with other people groups.”

“How did you hear him teaching?” Lampo challenged.

“I needed thread to mend Euxinus’s tunic, and I went to the agora while Phoebe and Anthia stayed with the children,” she declared, defensive. She picked up a piece of maza and topped it with onion and turnip. “Anyway,” she continued, “Paul said that Jesus is the first new human, and that all other humans can come together in unity and peace through him, or in him, or something. So maybe that’s why Paul called you ‘brother.’ He thinks that because of Jesus you now share the same status.”

Anthia wondered whether anyone was going to mention the other piece that was so confusing. And Jesus died on a cross, she added silently while she reached for an olive. But first Lampo’s father had another question. Anthia had noticed that he was chewing very carefully, and he often raised his hand to his left cheek and held it there. He must be in pain, she realized. Perhaps another one of his teeth is infected. He only had a few teeth left anyway.

Anthia shuddered at the thought of the dentist and his dental tools near the agora, grateful again for her strong teeth. She still had most of them and hadn’t had a toothache that resulted in a tooth being pulled since Nikias was little. She made a mental note to clean her teeth with her wool ball before bed that evening.

“Wait,” Linus insisted. “This Jesus is the first new human? I thought he was a god. Didn’t Paul say that he is healing only through the name and power of Jesus?”

“He is both, apparently,” Zotike answered, and her husband nodded from his place next to her. “We’re not sure if Jesus is like the emperor or if his ‘man-ness’ and ‘god-ness’ work differently,” she added.

Teeth

The ancient world was not kind to teeth. Teeth were worn down from eating coarse grains. Abscesses and periodontal disease were rampant, and the solution for toothaches was often extraction. Tools for dentistry included extractors, scrapers, bone levers, scissors, small drills, and knives. Many elderly people, if they lived to old age, would have been toothless.

Physicians recommended cleaning teeth, often with a “toothbrush” composed of a wooden or bone stick with fibers and/or a sharp end to use as a pick. Fingers were also employed, either covered with cloth or small, round balls of wool that were dipped in honey, or a toothpaste or tooth powder (often used for whitening, not cleaning) made from shells, lime, chalk, dried whale’s flesh and salt, or even animal ashes mixed with honey. Mouthwashes used vinegar and other ingredients such as pepper.

It appears that the causes of dental problems were not well understood, as small worms rather than plaque and bacteria were viewed as the reason. Medicines for toothache and/or rotting gums included ointments of oil; roots boiled in wine, vinegar, water, or salt; tree gum; smoke from burning seeds; and even eating mice or using the ash of burnt animal heads.

Anthia poured more wine into her cup. “Maybe he’ll be teaching on that question tomorrow when we walk to our fish stall,” she suggested.

“I’ve heard that he rises early to do his tentmaking work, and that at the midday break he always teaches and dialogues in the lecture hall, often staying all afternoon,” Philetus added.

He’s been paying closer attention than I thought! realized Anthia, and she wished that she could ask him what else he knew. Or perhaps I can find a way to listen tomorrow. Perhaps . . .