Marcus laughed unexpectedly. “Don’t look so uncomfortable, Philip. I have no doubt of your prowess. And, perhaps, you may win back my favor.”
Marcus’s favor.
Philip’s mind flashed back to those few weeks wherein he had enjoyed the benefits of Marcus’s good-favor. He had known little fear or even anger. Good company, Roman diversions, and fair treatment had all been his. But now he knew the truth behind those fleeting pleasures. Like Marcus’s favor, they were temporal and meaningless.
“See that you are prepared to escort me to the Baths at my regular hour.” Marcus picked up his pallium. “I will return presently.”
Philip half-bent in silent compliance. Marcus strode briskly from the room, the sound of the shutting door announcing his full departure.
Slowly, Philip picked up Marcus’s tossed-aside tunic and absently folded it. He had much to think upon, much to consider. It was not long before it struck him that Beric’s counsel might better serve his purpose. Quickly, he finished his few duties and slipped down to the gardens.
As usual, Beric was hard at work. He offered Philip a brief nod in greeting, keeping on with his work.
Philip watched him, framing his thoughts into words. “Father, is it known you are a Christian?”
“I have not spoken of the matter.” Beric did not take his eyes from his swift-moving spade. “Unless you have told the Lord Marcus, only you and I share the knowledge.”
“He does not know.” Philip spoke slowly. “And I am grateful it is so.”
Beric looked up. “Why?”
“Only because he has strictly forbidden me to ever again associate with my Christian brethren.” Philip felt a sudden tinge of discouragement. It was if speaking of it brought him to the full acknowledgment Marcus was not going to change his mind. “I don’t understand it, father. It was only a few days ago he said he did not care what my religion was.”
“Knowing your master, I dare say he did not make this command lightly.”
“Truth.” Philip gazed over the garden, contemplative. “He has promised any trace of my disobedience will be severely dealt with. I wish I knew what he meant.”
Beric turned back to his work, his countenance expressionless. “And will you obey him?”
“You know I will not.” Despite the gravity of the subject, Philip’s mouth twitched in a smile. Beric knew he was not one to look back. But, then, perhaps he knew how deeply he feared Marcus. “But I do not wish to be foolish, father. I may die for disobeying Marcus. And, while I am not ashamed to die for Jesus, I don’t relish the thought either.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“I don’t know. That is why I have come to you.”
Beric slowly straightened himself. “I am far newer to our faith than you, my Philip. You alone can decide what is best to do.”
“Are you willing to see your only son sacrificed for his Maker?”
“Yes.” Beric rested his hand on Philip’s shoulder. “I have always been willing to see my son give his life for his beliefs. It is the way of our people, Philip.” He paused, a glimmer of emotion breaking through the resolution in his blue eyes. “But, my son, I only ask you are not foolish. It would break my heart to see you slain.”
Philip felt a flood of grateful emotion. It was not often Beric shared his innermost feelings, and it touched him beyond words to hear the expression of his father’s deep love for him. He took Beric’s hands in his own, pressing them to his forehead.
“I will do as you say, my father. I can bear all for the Christ Who gives me strength, but I will not take any unnecessary risk. I will not heedlessly endanger the life you alone hold so dear.”
Throughout the remainder of that day, Philip debated his best course of action. Was it wise to go to the meeting that night? Marcus would be on the sharp lookout, watching for any trace of disobedience.
On the other hand, was it obedience to his Lord to forsake the assembly of his brethren? He felt certain it wasn’t, but it cost him a hard struggle to place his faith in Christ’s will.
At last, Philip set his mind to go. Instant peace flooded his mind and heart, and he knew he had made the right decision. A prayer flitted through his mind. Thank you, Jesus. Give me the strength to continue following Your will.
Scarcely half an hour after his decision, Marcus announced his own intention to visit Delicia that evening.
A feeling of warm hope washed over Philip with the announcement. It was more than possible Marcus would not return until he had already returned home himself, and he chided himself for his lack of faith. Surely this was God’s hand of Providence, giving him a way of escape from persecution.
The thought warmed his heart all that day and continued with him even until night fell. Marcus left, and, scarcely waiting until he had traversed out of sight down the Vicus Tuscus, Philip slipped from the Virginius domus.
He went alone. As occasionally happened, Beric was unable to break away from his duties. Lightly, he jogged through the quiet streets until he came to the house assigned for the evening’s meeting.
Inside the simple home, Philip was warmly greeted by the others. He was somewhat late and scarcely had time to make his greetings before Daniel commenced the meeting.
In his usual quiet manner, Daniel prayed, making mention of several brethren in bonds as he did so. He then seated himself, and a brother named Simeon arose to speak.
Philip listened attentively at first, but his mind soon wandered to thoughts of the speaker himself. An elderly man of some sixty years, Simeon had been a Jewish rabbi before his conversion to Christianity. Yet, unlike Daniel, he had not come to Rome as a slave, but to escape the religious and military turmoil in Israel.
When Simeon finished, Daniel again arose. “Before we depart, I would like to ask if there are any requests for prayer.”
Philip glanced around. There was always a multitude of requests, but, tonight, his fellow believers were strangely silent. He felt a twinge. He had a request of his own, but he had never before made a public request for prayer. He had always deemed himself too young and inexperienced to speak before the others, even though he knew exactly what Daniel would say.
Let no one despise your youth, Philip. You are young and new to the faith, but you are one of us.
As if he could read his mind, Daniel turned to him. “You seem as if you wish to speak, Philip. If you have a request, share it with us.”
Slowly, Philip rose to his feet. His hands felt clammy as he pressed them together. It would seem Daniel was beginning to read his thoughts as easily as Marcus could. “I do have a prayer request that is very close to my heart, Daniel, but I fear it may be of little interest to anyone else.”
“What is meaningful to you is meaningful to us, my boy.” Simeon spoke before Daniel could answer, his voice rebuking. “Let us have your thoughts.”
Philip was silent a moment, framing his thoughts into words. Simeon was a particularly gruff, zealous member of the brethren and it was especially difficult to speak before him.
His heart pumped with nervousness, and it was all he could do to speak. When he did, his voice shook despite his best efforts to control it. “I believe it is well-known that I am the servant of the noble Marcus Virginius. Last night, he forbade me to ever again associate with those of this way. He has promised to deal severely with me if I disobey… and, of course, I am disobeying even now.”
He swallowed before continuing, remembering to breathe. Calm down. Still, he sensed part of his nervousness had nothing to do with being in front of the brethren, but because of the gravity of his situation.
“My master does not make threats lightly. I do not ask that you pray I am delivered from this trial when so many of our brethren are suffering, but I do plead with the Lord to give me whatever mercy He sees fit. If you would pray the same, I would be blessed.”
There. He had done it. He had actually spoken before the entire assembly, despite his youth and all the other objections he had so often ar
oused in his mind.
Shaking ever so slightly, Philip resumed his seat, half-averting his eyes. He felt Daniel look kindly on him.
“We will pray for you, my young brother. It is not wrong to ask for deliverance, but we all can commend the submission you clearly manifest. Take comfort–we are all behind your cause.”
Philip managed to nod. His heart slowly resumed its natural beat, warming with gratitude. He was glad he had spoken, if only to obtain Daniel’s understanding.
The closing prayer was spoken and the meeting disassembled. Some of the members paused to speak to Philip, assuring him they would pray for his safety. Again, Philip’s heart warmed. This was what had drawn him to Christianity–the concern of ordinary people for others.
He lingered behind the others. With the last member gone, he approached Daniel, crossing his hands on his breast in his old fashion of greeting.
Daniel laid his hand on his shoulder, the first to speak. “I am glad you spoke in the meeting tonight, Philip. It is well the others know to pray for you.”
“I scarcely knew what to say, Daniel.” Philip attempted a laugh. “I do not know why I was so nervous.”
Daniel smiled, but gravity lingered over his bearded countenance. “It is a grave trial the Lord has seen fit to send upon you, Philip. I suppose you have a fair idea of what your master will do if he catches you in disobedience.”
“I do not like to think about it, Daniel. I–I dare not.”
“I understand.” The pressure of Daniel’s hand increased upon his shoulder. “And I am grateful you have not esteemed the security of this life as more important than loyalty to Christ.”
“I could not, Daniel.” Philip’s voice grew low. “He saved me from a very miserable existence. Though a very poor sort of Christian, I could not shirk my loyalty to Him.”
Daniel surveyed him contemplatively. “And why do you speak so of yourself? I have seldom seen one give himself up so entirely to Christ as you have.”
“It is your great kindness that causes you to speak so, Daniel. I know I am an unworthy Christian. Even Marcus has told me so.”
“And you believe him?”
“I must. Despite all my attempts to change, he has seen nothing good in me.”
“Then I must think he spoke in unkindness. Philip, you must know you are a constant encouragement to me. You are no lukewarm believer, but one sold to the faith and determined to live for Christ. And I have seen many changes in you.”
Philip felt a warm glow of gratitude. Marcus’s callous comment had left him more than a little discouraged, and he had struggled with feeling his efforts had been in vain. “You will never know how that strengthens me, Daniel.”
“I am glad.” Daniel paused a moment. “Philip, do not let bitterness fill your heart for Marcus. His sin in opposing your faith is great, but I counsel you to continue in steadfast prayer for him.”
Philip attempted lightheartedness. “Your counsel always comes at the most appropriate times. My prayers have been mostly for myself these days.” Then, growing serious, “But I will not forget, Daniel. I–I am not ashamed to say I fear Marcus, but I am trying to love him as I ought.”
“And that may be why you struggle.” Daniel spoke gently. “Love cannot be forced. It is much more than that.”
A wave of discouraged irritation washed over Philip. It spilled over into his voice. “I suppose I shall never learn to love properly. But if Christ looks at the heart, my attempts must mean something.”
“Truth.” Daniel’s quiet voice was a striking contrast to his slightly heated one. “And, I, for one, desire to be found obeying my Savior because I want to, not because it is my duty.”
Shame tinged Philip’s heart, realizing how callous he had sounded. He softened. “Then you think I only attempt to love Marcus because it is my duty?”
“I do not accuse you, Philip.”
“But what do you think?”
Daniel rested a hand on Philip’s shoulder. “I think that suffering can destroy the strongest sense of duty, my friend. And, if true love is not etched in your heart now, it will certainly give way to hate when tested.”
Philip looked downwards, fingering the metal collar around his neck. “And I am certain to be tested.” His voice was low. “But I do not know how to give what is not in my heart.”
Daniel squeezed his shoulder. “Pray for it, Philip. Pray for the love that is selfless, that keeps no record of wrongs.”
The words haunted Philip all during his long, silent trek home. And, in his heart of hearts, he knew what Daniel had tried to tell him in his own kind, subtle way was true.
Pain had given him fear for Marcus, cruelty had given him hate, and his new faith tried to balance the remembrance of past wrongs with dutiful respect and something he tried to call love.
Glancing up, Philip’s mind drifted to awe, taking in the bright gleams of the twinkling stars. They were a boundless cluster of light, shining out upon the darkness of Rome and guiding his way. Abruptly, he bit his lip. That was what he wanted–to be a light, shining out on dark hearts and guiding them home.
And he knew he couldn’t be that light until he broke the hold of unforgiveness.
He wanted to show Marcus all Christianity was and could be. But how? Daniel said to pray, but was that truly all he needed to do? Was there something more, something that would break this hold of past pain and bitterness?
Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.
Philip stopped short. The clarity of the words had nearly been audible. Involuntarily, he glanced behind him. No one was there.
But it was enough.
Philip again looked up, allowing the starlight to rest on his face. Slow, sure peace flooded his heart. He had been given his answer. In repaying evil with good, he would learn to love Marcus the way he ought, the way he wanted to.
His steps quickened. The Virginius Mansion appeared before him, and he mounted the steps. He took each step firmly, creating a resounding slap on his sandals on the marble. Something about the sound was strengthening, however dimly it reminded him of blows.
Don’t even think of about it. His back was sore with tension, but he brushed it aside and slipped inside the vestibule.
The lamps were lit, casting their beams over the shadowed interior of the domus. The fountains played in the garden, the sound of their dancing water echoing into the atrium.
Philip straightened his shoulders. His heart pounded like a war drum, but he refused to dwell on it. Fear would not control him. Swiftly, before he could think to stop himself, he stepped lightly up the stairs and entered Marcus’s chamber.
It was empty.
A rush of relief nearly overwhelmed him. Attempting to resume his normal breathing, Philip leaned against the door, closing his eyes.
God had spared him from suffering, at least for tonight. If Marcus was still making his visit to the household of Saturius, he would not return until well-past midnight. And he would be too drunk to question his slave’s activities during his absence.
Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.
Philip’s eyes opened. The words had given him peace before. Why did they suddenly haunt him, striking fear into his heart?
In the darkness of the room, dread slowly enveloped him. Dark realization ebbed its way into his very soul, chilling him. He felt as if God was warning him, preparing him for something he had no power to resist.
You cannot replace evil with good if you are not faced with it.
Philip tried to put away the thought. But he could not. The weight of a terrible something he could not understand pressed harder and harder against his chest.
He went to his own room and lay down on his couch. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the haunting feeling doubled in intensity. God was trying to prepare him. He could feel it, perceiving it in every sense of his body. There was something difficult in God’s will for him.
And he was not surrendered.
His e
yes closed.
Lord Jesus, I want Your will to be done, not mine. But, please, do not try me. Please deliver me. Please, Lord. Don’t test my desire to please You through suffering. Help me to love Marcus without being hurt.
Even as he prayed, Philip sensed the bittersweet truth. God, in His great love, had a great purpose for him. That purpose would shape and mold him into what he needed to be, both for his sake and for Marcus.
And that path, somewhere along it, would include suffering.
Chapter Fourteen
With the fall of dusk, Philip slipped from the Virginius domus. Everything about him was tense with nervousness. Marcus was home tonight and the likelihood of him discovering his slave’s absence was very great.
Philip tried to brush his dread aside. If God could shut the mouths of lions, as Daniel had told him, He could deliver a British slave.
But his apprehension refused to die. All during the meeting, his thoughts remained on his strange intuition that something was going to befall him. It had haunted him all last night and all that day, growing from suspicion into a difficult certainty. He couldn’t escape it.
With the close of the meeting, Philip slipped quickly up to Daniel, whispering a hasty word in his ear. “Pray for me.”
He turned away before Daniel could stop him, his heart thudding. He could not bring himself to linger as he always did, speaking with the others or waiting to have private conversation with Daniel.
The terrible torture of apprehension was too great.
Swiftly, he jogged homeward. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he entertained the faint hope that his swiftness might save him. Perhaps Marcus would not have noticed his absence.
But, despite his best efforts, the hope was a faint one.
The Virginius Mansion arose up before him. Dread arose in his heart, nearly suffocating him. He felt his pumping legs involuntarily slow, coming nearly to a standstill beneath him. He exhaled slowly, attempting to bring his thudding pulse to normality.
Hold me, Father. Only You can save me.
Bound by habit, he mounted the steps. One, two. The echo of his own footsteps was like the resonance of blows falling in regular rhythm.
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