Jewel of the Nile

by Tessa Afshar

  CHAPTER 20

  But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.

  MALACHI 4:2

  In the evening, as was their habit every week, Priscilla and Aquila hosted a worship gathering at their home. Everyone congregated in the long upper room above the courtyard where they had eaten supper the night before. Chariline sat alone at the back of the room, not wanting to intrude upon a company who already seemed to know each other well.

  She counted thirty-seven people, some occupying couches, others on cushions and carpets scattered on the mosaic floor. Senator Pudens and his family were still visiting their estate in Antium, but many of their servants and slaves who worked at their house in Rome were in attendance, as were a baker, two lawyers, and a retired member of the Praetorian guard.

  “I want to speak of darkness, tonight,” Aquila began, “because we all have to contend with darkness in our lives.” He cleared his throat. “I want to speak of the darkness that plagues us: The dark thoughts that torment. The dark circumstances that wound. The dark desires that hound. The dark choices that hurt. The dark warrens of our fearful imaginations. Sometimes, under the weight of the darkness, we feel hopeless. Overcome.”

  Chariline held her breath. The rest of the gathering must have felt the same. The chamber had grown silent like the depth of the sea. One person moved and the rustling of his tunic could be heard in every corner of the room.

  Aquila stopped as if in thought. “I want you to know, the Lord had to contend with darkness also. Unimaginable darkness.

  “The darkness of physical pain when he was beaten and crucified. Then, as he hung on the cross, for three hours the world plunged into darkness. The sun was expunged from the sky as he suffered. No light to comfort him in the end. The world became a place of shadows.

  “But still greater darkness awaited him. The darkness of utter loneliness. For the first time in his eternal existence, his Father forsook him. Withdrew the light of his presence. And Yeshua had to suffer through the darkness of death, alone.”

  Aquila looked toward Priscilla and nodded. She came to stand next to him, reaching for his hand. “We all contend with darkness in our lives,” she said. “I know I have. But this truth consoles me: Our Lord, who passed through the worst darkness, endured the most grievous and fearsome evil, the deepest loneliness—he himself helps us in our darkness. Helps us to navigate the shadow places of our lives without sinning. Helps us to persevere through them without breaking.

  “He endured the loss of every light so that we may always have the light of his countenance shining upon our path.

  “Perhaps you feel the darkness of your own failures pressing in upon you this night. Feel oppressed by the weight of your sin. But even now, at this very moment, the sun of righteousness is waiting to rise upon you with healing in its wings. The light of God will swallow up the darkness of your guilt and shame, if you only reach for him.”

  Chariline drew her knees to her chest and dropped her head. Theo might never trust her again. She might have ruined their friendship. But Iesous extended his forgiveness.

  She remembered that the Lord’s dear friend Peter had broken his word also. His word never to deny him. Three times, Peter had broken that word, and yet Iesous had sought him out and loved him. Forgive me, Lord, even as you forgave Peter.

  The greatest darkness had tried to swallow Iesous and failed. Now he stood victorious, able to swallow her darkness, which she had created with her own hand, her own choice.

  Take it, Iesous. And set me free, I pray.

  After the guests departed, Chariline helped Priscilla and Lollia clean up the leftovers of the modest meal they had served. Aquila had returned to the workshop, laboring on a tent that was due in the morning.

  “You are gifted,” Chariline told Priscilla shyly. “Was it not the prophet Isaiah who said:

  “The Lord GOD has given me

  the tongue of those who are taught,

  that I may know how to sustain with a word

  him who is weary.

  “That describes you, Priscilla. Your words sustained me.”

  Priscilla smiled as she scoured a platter with a rag. “I see you know your Scripture.”

  “Not as well as I should.”

  Scrubbing a stubborn spot, Priscilla frowned. “Theo will come around, you know.”

  Chariline felt her cheeks warm. “I had given him my word, you see. Never to venture out without him.”

  Priscilla’s hands stilled in the water. She stared at Chariline for an unbroken moment. “Why did you? What made you break your word?”

  “I found the thought of waiting two whole days unbearable. It seemed impossible to sit home and do nothing when Vitruvia might be a few streets away. I told myself that I had no choice when I gave my word to Theo. That it did not count, because I was forced into making that promise.”

  “And did you? Have a choice?”

  “Of course. I could have returned to Caesarea.”

  Priscilla nodded. “Did you ask Yeshua about it? Ask if he wanted you to go to Vitruvia this morning?”

  Chariline shook her head. It had not even crossed her mind. “I asked for his help.”

  Priscilla passed the platter for Chariline to dry. “His help, but not his permission?” She dipped a clay cup into the water. “So, you placed your desire before the Lord’s will.”

  “It wasn’t such a bad desire, I thought. Except for breaking my word to Theo. Why should God not approve of me finding my father?”

  Priscilla smiled. “It’s not the nature of your longing that is at issue. It is the fact that God does not reign over it. Finding your father has become the jewel you refuse to part with. Not even if God asks it. In that part of your heart, at least, your flesh still rules.

  “The problem is that when you are flesh-driven, you cannot be Spirit-led.”

  Priscilla’s blue eyes bored into her. “You are aching because Theo is angry. But my dear, you have a greater problem with Yeshua.”

  Chariline dried the cup with trembling fingers. She thought of Natemahar, and the way he prayed with all his soul bare before God, waiting upon him. Thought of Hermione, who asked for Iesous’s direction even in the small things. Of Mariamne, who never presumed to jump into action without God’s confirmation. Of Theo, who climbed his mast to be alone with God.

  It had been a long time since she had settled in the Lord and allowed her soul to be still. To surrender.

  She had wrestled the reins of control out of Iesous’s hands, taken charge of her life the moment she discovered her father still lived, because she had been afraid that God might not give her what she most wanted. Afraid that he would deny her the father she longed for.

  At the root of this mad chase, this headlong spring into thoughtless pursuit lay this simple truth. Chariline did not trust God to say yes. He had withheld her father from her all her life. Why should he change his mind now?

  She had betrayed Theo, put her own life at risk, dragged Ferox into her mess, worried her poor aunt half to death for this simple reason: She trusted herself more than she trusted God.

  When you are flesh-driven, you cannot be Spirit-led, Priscilla had said. Well, Chariline was done being flesh-driven. “I want to be Spirit-led,” she said to Priscilla.

  Priscilla reached her damp hand and squeezed Chariline’s trembling ones. “So you shall be.”

  Late that night, unable to sleep, Chariline crept down the stairs, longing for the peace of Priscilla’s enchanted courtyard. She had just sat down on the bench by the fountain when she caught a silhouette on the bench across from her. Startled, she vaulted to her feet.

  “It’s only me,” Theo said quietly. “I did not mean to alarm you.”

  “I’ll leave.” Chariline took a step back, not wanting to disturb Theo. She must be the last person he wanted to see.

  “Stay,” he said, also rising to come to her side. She notic
ed his mysterious scroll of papyrus clutched in his fingers.

  “Still writing that love letter?”

  His lips twitched. “Not a love letter.” He extended a hand, inviting her to sit again, and joined her on the narrow bench.

  She could feel the warmth of his body where they almost touched and drew her legs in, tucking one foot behind the other.

  “Tell me about this Cushite,” he said.

  She snapped her head up. “The Cushite?”

  “You called him a warrior. What makes you think that?”

  “He had scars on his cheeks and forehead. In Cush, young boys who want to become warriors often receive these cuts to prove their courage. Many soldiers bear them.”

  “Was he someone you knew?”

  She frowned. “He seemed familiar. But I can’t place him.”

  Theo folded the scroll tighter. “Taharqa says that a warrior like that is not cheap to hire. Apparently, you’ve made yourself an enemy in high places.”

  “The queen would be my guess.”

  “But why? Does she know you are on your father’s trail?”

  “She saw me with Sesen on my last day in Meroë. If Sesen is my father, or knows his identity, the Kandake would have known that I was close to finding him.”

  “And that is enough for her to want you dead? Enough to send an assassin halfway across the world?”

  “It seems so. Theo?” She swallowed. “If he knew where to find me today . . .”

  Theo nodded. “He knows where you are staying. That occurred to me also. He must have followed us from Puteoli. I don’t want you to worry about it. As determined as he is, he can’t hurt you while you are in this house. He would have to get past too many of us to reach you.”

  She exhaled, allowing the relief of his assurance to wash over her. “I wouldn’t want anyone to be hurt on my account.”

  His expression hardened. “No one is going to get hurt.”

  Looking into the flashing eyes, Chariline believed him. “Have you noticed an odd thing?” she asked.

  “You mean apart from someone trying to kill you?”

  “Exactly. Here is a trained warrior sent to Rome all the way from Cush. But he does not use swords or daggers or arrows or pikes or spikes . . .”

  He bit off a smile. “I think I see your point. He tried to drown you the first time. And then he attempted to squash you under a giant stone pot. In either case, had he succeeded, no one would have suspected foul play. It would have appeared to be a mishap.”

  “Exactly.”

  He arched a brow. “I am impressed.”

  “By what?”

  “Your powers of observation.” He rubbed a finger along his chin. “This could work in our favor. If his mandate is to make your murder look like an accident, he is constrained by how he can attack you. We’ll be able to protect you better.” They sat in silence for a moment.

  Theo sighed. “Chariline. I spoke more harshly than I intended, this afternoon.”

  She looked up. “I understand. If I had died, you would have felt responsible. All your life, you would have carried that weight.”

  The tight knot in his jaw loosened. “If you knew that, why did you do it?”

  “I did not think of it until I saw your face when I confessed. Theo, I want you to know I will never break my word to you again. Whether I find my father or not. Whatever is at stake. I won’t do that to you again.”

  Theo inhaled. Tapped the scroll into his palm for a beat, then grinned. “It seems my curse.”

  “What does?”

  “To be forever bound to stubborn women.”

  Before she could ask what he meant by that cryptic comment, Theo had disappeared into the shadows. What women? Then a slow smile spread over her face. Theo felt bound to her.

  In the morning, Chariline went to the diminutive kitchen in the corner of the courtyard to help Lollia make hot wheat pancakes. A freed slave, Lollia was more a member of the family than a servant and felt free to order everyone around, including Aquila.

  “Lord, have mercy,” she said, waving her wooden spoon at him as he swooped into the kitchen to pinch a couple of dates. “Look at the circles under those eyes. They are deep enough to plant a hedge of strawberries in.”

  “Yesterday you called me handsome,” Aquila said, pilfering half a pancake with no apology.

  Lollia tried to rap the back of his hand, finding him too fast. “That was before you stayed up half the night, working on some impatient fellow’s tent.”

  “One bite of your wheat pancakes, and I am restored.”

  “Did I hear someone mention pancakes?” Theo said from the door.

  “Mercy! We are being ambushed by barbarians,” Lollia cried. “Where is Priscilla when I need her?”

  “You don’t think I would dare to come anywhere near the kitchen if Priscilla was in it, do you?” Theo reached for the pancake half that Aquila had left behind.

  Chariline laughed. “She is the gentlest of women. Don’t you dare malign her. I won’t have it.”

  “Gentlest of women, is she?” Theo managed to grab a date and stuffed it into his mouth before Lollia could blink. “I will have you know she once slapped me so hard, I almost lost my teeth. Had a bruise on my cheek for weeks.”

  “Are you still going on about that little incident?” Priscilla said from behind him.

  “Every chance I find.” Theo grinned.

  Chariline looked from one to the other. “Surely you did not . . . That is to say, Priscilla never would . . .”

  “She would and she did,” Theo said.

  “It is true enough,” Aquila added. “You should have heard the screeches that came out of these delicate lips.” He bent to kiss the delicate lips. “I still blush when I think of it.”

  Priscilla rapped him on the shoulder. “It was all in a good cause.”

  Chariline raised a brow. “Can I join in?”

  “The cause that leads to my abuse? I think not,” Theo said, reaching for another pancake.

  “I will abuse you myself if you take that,” Lollia hissed, and everyone backed out of the kitchen very slowly.

  Priscilla led them out to the courtyard. “In truth, Theo helped save the life of our friend Paul,” she told Chariline. “He may be a stodgy old merchant now. But there was a time when he did not mind climbing up walls and sneaking through windows.”

  “That was the easy part. Being slapped by you was what made me realize a life of adventure held too many dangers for the likes of me,” Theo said, making Priscilla chuckle.

  Chariline tucked a tuft of hair behind her ear. Theo had helped save the life of one of the church’s most famous leaders. Another Theo mystery to add to her long list.

  An hour later, Theo and Taharqa left to tend to the sale of soap at several baths, and Lollia went off to shop for their noonday meal, while Priscilla and Aquila retreated to the workshop.

  That left Chariline alone with her mountains. The ones she could not move. God was her mountain mover. Chariline sat at his feet and gave those mountains back to him. Then she spent a day watering Priscilla’s garden, clearing dead flowers, collecting herbs for Lollia’s cooking, sweeping the floors, and generally making herself useful to her hosts. Hard work might not find her father or find answers to the puzzle of the Cushite assassin pursuing her. But it did quiet her soul.

  CHAPTER 21

  Wait for the LORD;

  be strong, and let your heart take courage;

  wait for the LORD!

  PSALM 27:14

  Although the implements of Priscilla and Aquila’s work—awls, needles, blades, hole punchers, sheers, stamps, threads, and cords—required little space, the leather itself could be cumbersome to store so that after a few hours of labor, the workshop looked and felt cramped.

  Noticing the height of the room, Chariline realized that with a few simple adjustments, she could help create a more orderly environment for her new friends. She drew a series of shelves overhead, stretching across every
wall. They were too narrow to interrupt the light, but substantial enough to add a convenient space for storage. She also designed a wide cutting table for the center of the room that contained a chest underneath, as well as a drawer where they could keep the smaller implements of their trade.

  She was drawing a long bench with a retractable stool when she heard Ferox barking and heard Theo’s and Taharqa’s voices at the door. She rose to greet the men. Her smile wavered at Theo’s expression.

  “Did you not fare well at the baths? They are fools if they rejected your soap,” she said.

  “The baths were fine.” Theo rubbed his neck. “In fact, Taharqa and I finished early. We were close to the neighborhood Pomponia had mentioned and decided to investigate.”

  A fist twisted in Chariline’s chest. “You could not find the house.”

  “We found the house. But she does not live there. No one connected to the Vitruvius family does. The current residents have no idea where they have moved. Apparently, they did not reside there for long. None of the neighbors were able to help us, though one old man said he thought they had left Rome. I am sorry, Chariline. It was a dead end.”

  All at once, the warm atrium seemed cold. “Thank you for trying, Theo,” she said, twisting her arms into a tight knot.

  “Don’t give up just yet. We still have Senator Pudens.”

  Chariline bit her lip to stop it from trembling. She tried to smile and failed. Tried to look brave and failed at that, too.

  “Chariline!” Theo reached a hand that did not quite touch her shoulder. “We are not finished.”

  “What if this is God saying no? What if I was never meant to come?” She took a step back, followed by another. “I always knew God did not want me to find my father.”

  Theo filled the gap between them with a long stride. This time, he reached out with both hands, wrapping them around her shoulders. He drew her forward, until they stood nose to nose. Until they only needed whispers to be heard. Her heart skipped. Theo lowered his head a fraction. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek.