by Debra Diaz
“I am betrothed. His name is Nathan bar Samuel. He is a stonemason living in Bethany.”
“And he hasn’t sought you?” Paulus asked sharply. “Does he know you were taken?”
“He is away, out of the province. A friend is trying to get word to him.”
“Perhaps you could tell me how you came to Bethany.”
She told him about Joppa and the boy who had stolen her money, and how Lazarus and Nathan had come to her rescue. He listened to her attentively, and her words trailed off; she could think of nothing more to explain her own actions. She wanted to tell him how she felt, how she had wanted only to save him, but she couldn’t. She dared not.
They reached the tall wooden structure in the middle of the wall surrounding the town. It was after midnight and the watchman was nowhere to be seen. Slowly she removed Paulus’ mantle from her shoulders and handed it to him, her eyes taking in his white tunic, the leather cuirass, the brown leather boots, the heavy sword at his side. Salome’s words rang in her head: “He is Mars, the god of war.”
“Alysia,” he said quietly, “do not marry this man.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“I want you to marry me.”
At least ten heartbeats must have gone by, though she could have sworn her heart had stopped beating at all. She whispered, “What did you say?”
“You heard me. I am asking you to marry me.”
“Paulus, I am a slave, an escaped murderer. There is no future for you if you marry me.”
“I will resign my position. It’s not important to me anymore. There are other things I can do—carpentry, farming. I will make a living for us, I promise you.”
Alysia could only stare at him. If he were willing to do that he must …
Sounds carried clearly and they had to speak very low. Paulus said, “I will divorce Megara. She doesn’t care for me.”
Alysia swallowed over the renewed thudding of her heart. “And do you—care so much for me?”
His eyes moved over her face, ethereal in moonlight that was so bright it cast shadows of the date palms on the wall behind her. His hands moved slowly up her arms and drew her closer to him. “I could never stop thinking about you,” he said, with a depth of emotion in his voice she had never heard before. “When I saw you tonight it was as if I were the one who had been dead, and had come alive again.”
For the second time that night she seemed to step out of herself, so that she was two people…bound together and yet relentlessly opposed to each other. A vista of years appeared before her, and in those years she and Paulus lived a life of hiding, of being forced to move and hide again. Paulus would grow more and more dissatisfied, more frustrated. She, without him, could exist in anonymity. Together, they were more likely to be discovered. She was wanted for murder, and he would be accused of aiding her.
It seemed a long time had passed, but it hadn’t. Paulus must have read her eyes for he said, “We can find a place where no one knows us, where no one will search. We can be happy.”
“No,” she said breathlessly, before she could change her mind. “I won’t let you do this. You belong to the army! Do you think I could ever be happy, knowing what you have given up because of me?”
“Can you tell me that you don’t love me? Can you tell me that you love this other man?”
“Whether I love him or not, I am going to marry him.”
“Don’t make this choice in haste, Alysia.”
Her voice was unsteady, but she managed to speak the words. “I was afraid for you, Paulus. That was why I didn’t go to Cyprus. I was afraid that if you were caught helping me, you would be imprisoned, or killed. And that is why I cannot marry you, now or ever.”
She had a sudden sense of irretrievable loss, but she had finally made him understand. “Besides, Jewish betrothals can only be broken by divorce. We are as good as married. I cannot dishonor him.”
He stepped closer, his eyes holding hers. “I don’t know how to convince you that I mean what I say. I would gladly give up my profession for you. There are other things more important. And I am well aware of the risk if we are discovered. Death is certain for everyone, Alysia, and at least we would be together.”
She lowered her gaze, bowing her head. “I cannot.”
He touched her face, making her look up at him. His thumb traced a tear sliding down her cheek. “You may believe you have sound reasons for your decision, but I happen to disagree with them. If you change your mind, you will know where to find me.”
The wooden door within the gate swung slowly open and there stood the night watchman, an elderly man with a cheap-looking sword in his hand.
“What goes here?” he demanded…before he caught sight of Paulus’ uniform. His jaw dropped.
“There was a matter of urgency that compelled this young woman to leave Jerusalem. I have escorted her this far. I trust you will see her safely home.”
“I—yes, yes, General—er, my lord.”
“And you will say nothing of it to anyone.”
“No, my lord General!”
The man turned back to allow Alysia to precede him through the gate. But she remained for a moment where she stood.
“Goodbye, Paulus,” she whispered.
He spoke low, but she had no trouble hearing his words.
“It is not over between us, Alysia. We will meet again, and we will see how long we can deny what was meant to be.”
CHAPTER XI
Alysia had been in Lazarus’ house only a few hours when Nathan returned, so wildly incensed that she feared he was going to storm the garrison single-handedly. Lazarus had sought him out, going from village to village until someone had been able to tell him where the stonemason could be found. (Although Alysia strongly suspected Nathan’s absence had more to do with activities other than a building project.)
A servant had let her into the house, crying out and bringing everyone running to the door. Mary wept with relief, declaring she hadn’t stopped praying for Alysia’s safety since the moment she was taken. Martha had simply helped Alysia into her nightgown and tucked her into bed.
At dawn a door flinging open and slamming shut awakened everyone again, and Nathan bounded into her room. He knelt beside the bed and grabbed her shoulders. “To think that they—did they—” His face turned scarlet with rage and he couldn’t find the words he wanted to say.
“They did not harm me. Nathan, listen to me,” she said, and calmly told him what had happened. But she did not mention Herod’s banquet, or who had brought her home. He stared at her, striving to control himself. Lazarus came into the room and sat down in a chair. His sisters stood in the doorway, listening and looking warily at their cousin. No one knew what he was going to do.
“Alysia, please forgive me,” Lazarus said, with a pained expression. He looked extremely tired and pale. “I should have let them kill me before they took you. And then, I didn’t know who to go to. I felt it was useless to go to the Romans. I do not trust the priests in Jerusalem…though they may have helped, I don’t know. Perhaps I should have asked for an audience with Herod Antipas. It didn’t occur to me. The best thing to do, I thought, was to find Nathan and talk things through. I…we had to think of your reputation. I simply had to trust God to take care of you until then.”
“You did exactly the right thing,” Alysia told him. “And God did protect me. Nathan, you must not be so angry. As I have said, the centurion realized he had made a dreadful mistake and that is why he took me to Herod’s palace. He hoped things could be made right…It was only by chance that I was able to see Herod Antipas. He said he was sending a messenger to let you know I was safe.”
Mary and Martha looked at each other. “There was no messenger,” said Martha.
“I am not surprised, for I have heard about Herod’s—well, he is not a man of integrity. I do not think we owe him a debt, by any means.”
“How were you able to return to Bethany?” Lazarus asked.
“I
had to wait until the storm was over, and even after that I was kept waiting. Finally a slave escorted me through Jerusalem. I suppose I was not very important to those at the palace.”
“Well, you are important to us!” Martha exclaimed, and wiped at a tear that slid down her motherly face.
For the first time since she had started talking, Nathan spoke. He was still now, and grim. His words sent a chill over her entire body, into her very heart.
“If it takes the rest of my life,” he said, with blazing eyes, “I will see that the Romans pay for what they have done.”
* * * *
In the palace of Herod Antipas, Megara sat at an upstairs window, looking down upon a small private courtyard. She ate stoically from a bowl of orange slices and watched her husband converse with the tetrarch. Paulus obviously did not like Herod, and Herod obviously did not like what Paulus was saying to him, for he looked decidedly uncomfortable.
It has something to do with that slave, she thought. Last night, seeing her alive after months of believing her dead, was a blow from which Megara would not soon recover. But even “dead”, Alysia had been a threat to her.
Paulus changed after the ship the slave had supposedly been traveling on had gone to the bottom of the sea. He seemed to care for nothing. He took on dangerous tasks, such as rooting out a gang of criminals in one of the most deadly districts of Rome. Every other city prefect had simply left them alone, but Paulus found out their hiding places and went, with a handful of soldiers and men from the police brigade, to either arrest them or execute them on the spot.
Then, before they left for Palestine they had spent some time on Paulus’ farm in the country, and one day he’d gone with two men from neighboring farms in search of a wild boar that had killed at least two game hunters in recent weeks…equipped with only a bow, a quiver of arrows and a spear. One of the men with him had supplied her with the details. Tracking the beast for miles, loping through the forest like some wild beast himself, Paulus had killed the huge boar single-handedly with his spear, and had a long gash on his arm to show for it.
And then he had brought her to this place, with its strange customs and unfriendly populace. She had seen the hostile stares of the Jews as she was carried through the streets of Jerusalem. Megara couldn’t even have the satisfaction of reporting Alysia’s crime and exposing her as the villainess she was, for by doing so she would bring danger to Paulus and, by association, to herself. And Paulus had forbidden her to speak of it.
She had made the mistake of confronting her husband and assuming an injured air. “How long do you think you can hide her, Paulus? If you’re seen with her, it will be the end of you.”
“I will not discuss Alysia with you, Megara, for you have forfeit the right to do so. As far as I am concerned, she has done nothing wrong.”
“Nothing wrong! She is a murderess and a harlot—”
She stopped at the look on his face. His Nile blue eyes had frozen into two chips of ice and his brows drew together in a fierce scowl. “Bridle your slandering tongue, and if you betray her I will defend her to my last breath—after I’ve killed you.” He left her standing with her mouth open.
Well, she doubted he would kill her, but she would keep silent…at least for now.
Her face was stony as she watched Herod Antipas dip his head in the barest gesture of civility and creep into the palace like a whipped dog. Paulus immediately took his leave, passing through a doorway within the opposite colonnade.
She must be more careful. The gods forbid that he should decide to divorce her, making her an object of ridicule, or worse, pity. Somehow she had to find a means to get rid of Alysia, in a way that would bring no danger to Paulus. She did not intend to lose him, either by death or divorce.
Years ago, Megara had visited a famous sibyl just outside of Rome. She’d been a frightful sight, to be sure, hunched and wrinkled, with staring black eyes. The sibyl told her that Paulus had a great destiny before him…and that his influence would reach kings and kingdoms.
To Megara, that meant only one thing. And she intended to be part of it.
* * * *
The winter months passed slowly for Alysia. And with the passing of each month, the day of her wedding drew nearer. At Nathan’s insistence she did not venture outside the town…which was just as well since she had learned that there were Romans on virtually every street corner in Jerusalem. And what if she should see Paulus? It was much easier to not risk catching a glimpse of him…to pretend that he was still in Rome and lost to her forever.
At least, it was easier for a while. Until she began to grow bored and restless and to feel as if she were a prisoner. In the spring Lazarus and his sisters began planning a trip to Galilee. There was a man there, a man they knew well, who had recently begun to preach. He was from the town of Nazareth; his name was Jesus.
His fame had already reached Judea, for it was said he performed miracles, healing people without medicine or herbs, healing even the blind and deaf. Alysia wasn’t particularly impressed…she had seen many charlatans and magicians in Athens who claimed to do the same things. It seemed the rest of the province was skeptical, too, for most Judeans were contemptuous of Galileans and especially of Nazareth, a town they considered uncultivated and uncouth. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” was the popular saying.
But that didn’t stop her from wanting to go. She would have gone almost anywhere for diversion. One night when Nathan was eating supper at Lazarus’ house she broached the subject with more than a little trepidation. She knew he would be opposed.
“Of course you cannot go,” he said, not even looking up as broke off a piece of bread.
She looked with dismay at Lazarus, who merely raised his eyebrows. He’d already told her she would have to abide by whatever Nathan decided.
“Why not?” she asked. This time Nathan raised his brows.
“Have you forgotten what the soldiers did to you? What they would have done had not God intervened?”
“I’ll be in the country—I won’t go into any cities where there are Romans. Besides, it’s ridiculous to think that that could happen again.”
“Why is it ridiculous? What has changed? The Romans are still without any sense of honor, and you are still a beautiful woman.”
“Nathan, I will not spend the rest of my life afraid to venture outside the walls of Bethany! Everyone else at least is able to visit Jerusalem. I haven’t been anywhere in months!”
Martha began picking up dishes and retreated to the kitchen. But Lazarus and Mary remained sitting at the table.
Nathan looked at his cousin. “Do you not agree with me, Lazarus?”
Lazarus thought a moment before he replied. “I was with Alysia when she was taken, and so I would not presume to promise you her safety. But I don’t believe that such a thing will happen again.”
“And about this man—Jesus of Nazareth. Perhaps you know him well, Lazarus, but I do not. Why should Alysia risk so much to go and hear him?”
“We have been friends all our lives.” Lazarus looked at Alysia and explained. “I was born and raised in Nazareth, but when I married I moved here to Bethany, so that my wife could be near her family. Not long after I lost my wife, Martha’s husband also died, and she and Mary came here to live with me. Our parents had already been dead for some time, and Mary had been living with Martha.”
Alysia nodded her understanding. Lazarus’ dark eyes went back to Nathan. “Jesus was a good friend to me,” he said again. “I was not a healthy child, and other children can be—unkind. He was several years younger than I, but whenever he was with me—for some reason there was no bullying from anyone, no cruel words. He’s been a carpenter since his youth, and he taught me woodworking, light things that would not tire me. I know that he is a good man. If he feels that he has been anointed by God to preach, then it is so.”
“Perhaps you didn’t know this, Lazarus. The Romans are watching him. He has acquired a large following. And since the
Romans are concerned, so is the Sanhedrin.”
“As far as I know, he has said nothing against Rome.”
Nathan said dryly, “That’s what I don’t like about him.”
Unexpectedly Mary spoke, in her usual gentle manner. “I wish you would let her go with us, Nathan. I know it must be tiresome, staying at home all the time. You could come, too.”
“I cannot leave my work.”
“Which work?” Alysia couldn’t resist saying. “You do things that I might not approve of, and yet I am allowed to say nothing.”
Nathan pushed his plate aside and crossed his arms on the table. “Alysia, I realize that you were raised differently and you are not familiar with some of our ways. We’ve all been lenient in our expectations. And, I will admit that some of the traditions are old-fashioned and not strictly followed anymore. At one time a betrothed young woman would be expected to stay secluded, never go anywhere, and not even see her prospective bridegroom for an entire year.”
“But as you say, some traditions are old-fashioned.”
Nathan paused for a moment, then gave a slow smile. “Well, it seems I am outnumbered. Lazarus, if some evil befalls Alysia perhaps your miracle-worker can save her.”
“No evil will come to me,” Alysia said, wishing she could be certain of that.
Lazarus also smiled. “Your concern is not without cause, Nathan. But if the Lord God is willing, I will bring her safely home to you.”
* * * *
Most Judeans hated Samaritans, even more than they despised the country-bred Galileans. If a Jew wanted to inflict the most scathing of insults upon another Jew, he called him a Samaritan. Besides the unforgivable act of being descendents of Gentiles who had intermarried with Jews, the Samaritans believed themselves to be racially superior to all other inhabitants of Palestine and had their own temple, their own priesthood, and their own Holy City. Most Jews would not even pass through the province, going far out of their way to hug the western bank of the Jordan River; many even crossed to the other side.