by Debra Diaz
“No!” she cried. “I want to have a real wedding, here, and—” She suddenly burst into tears. “I love you all, and I want you to be happy for me, because I am happy! Don’t you see—he is the only man I will ever love!”
Daphne went to her; she was not as tall as Rachel, but held her comfortingly in her arms. “There, dear, we do want you to be happy. And you would not be happy with an unsaved man.”
“But he will be saved! I know he will.”
“We all hope so—we will pray fervently for it. And we have nothing against your tribune. He is undoubtedly a fine man. It’s you we are thinking of, for you would worry about him night and day. Your soul would know no rest, Rachel, and if anything should happen to him, you would not be able to bear it.”
“That is true, whether I marry him or not.”
“So you admit this is not a real marriage,” Simon observed. “Rachel, Benjamin is the man for you.” He ignored Daphne, who was shaking her head at him. “You should explain to him what has happened, and ask him if he still wants you as his wife. I don’t think he will change his mind.”
“Daphne, will you please explain why this can never be?” Again, Rachel turned to walk out the door.
“Wait, Rachel,” said Lazarus. “We are not going to force you into anything against your will. I think it is unfortunate that you have fallen in love with this man, but if you want to marry him, we will consider it.” He exchanged a look with Simon, who frowned but said nothing. “Simon, you knew her father well. What would he want?”
Daphne turned away from Rachel, taking her husband’s arm and answering for him. “I think Paulus would allow Rachel to marry Metellus,” she said. “He and Alysia were very—practical about things. Perhaps Rachel can lead him to the Lord.”
“Or perhaps, he can lead her astray.” At Rachel’s cry of protest, Simon added, “No, of course he would not do it on purpose. Rachel, are you prepared to go alone to our assemblies? Are you prepared to keep studying the Word of God, and praying, no matter what? Are you prepared for his growing resentment, his unwillingness to have anything to do with your faith?”
“My faith is strong,” Rachel said, and then added quickly, “I mean, it is stronger now than ever before, after what I have been through.”
“We are speaking of years, possibly, before he turns to the Lord, if he ever does.”
“I can’t bear to think that he won’t,” she whispered. “So please don’t speak of it, and pray for him, without ceasing.”
“Of course we will,” Lazarus answered. “And I agree with Daphne. I knew Alysia well, and I think she would allow Rachel to marry Metellus, since she feels so strongly about it.”
“Strongly, indeed,” Daphne said, smiling.
Simon seemed to think for a moment, looking down at the floor, and finally raised his eyes. “Very well. I will explain to Benjamin, but we must invite him to the feast. He would be much offended if we didn’t.”
“Metellus will have to ask for the honor of marrying you,” Daphne told Rachel, reaching out to touch her hair.
“He will,” Rachel said, her eyes shining. “I will see to it.”
* * * *
Megara had always hated weddings, and this one was no exception, but there were certain things that she was obligated to do, as the wife of the deputy procurator. Since Drusus could not leave his duties, she appeared as his representative…she was given an apartment at the palace in Tiberias, a magnificent city on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. She had never minded being treated like royalty, until now. She wished everyone would leave her in peace, so she could stand on her balcony and look upon the mysteriously beautiful lake. She supposed she was getting old and irritable.
The bride was a relative of the late Herod Agrippa, the king over several provinces in Palestine, who had died some years ago under rather odd circumstances. There had been rumors that he’d been undertaking some sort of secret and stealthy rebellion against Rome… a great multitude of Jews had proclaimed him their Messiah, and he had accepted their worship…whereupon the God of the Jews had stricken him with a fearful sickness and killed him. It was said he had died in great agony…eaten by worms, a fate which had befallen his own grandfather, Herod the Great.
Megara didn’t know how much of such things to believe, but she was cautious with the Herod family. Her old friend, Herodias, had been banished with her husband, Antipas, by the former emperor, to some remote place…in fact, no one in Rome trusted the Herods. The present king, Agrippa the Second, had better watch his steps very carefully.
She walked from her balcony to the dressing table, sat down, and began skillfully applying cosmetics to her face. She could still pass for a woman of thirty, she thought. And if she was agreeable enough, she could perhaps find out more about the Zealots. It was her duty to find out about them, because they were a threat. There was always loose talk at weddings; soldiers and officers often said things they shouldn’t. How strong were the Zealots? Who were their leaders, where were they hiding, and what were their plans?
One day, she thought, they were going to go too far. They were no match for Rome; Rome would fall upon them until not a Jew was left, but it would mean war, and Megara did not want there to be a war. She didn’t trust Roman officers, for she had certainly been around them long enough, and often they withheld information in the hope of gaining greater glory for themselves. If she discovered anything of value, she would take it immediately to her husband, and the procurator.
She heard the sound of cymbals and flutes, and knew the festivities were beginning. Slaves came in to dress her, helping with the complex arrangement of her pale green gown and the donning of her slippers. At last she dismissed them, opened the door, and began walking toward the music…
* * * *
Rachel listened to the distant strains of lutes and lyres, aware of a growing excitement. The guests were arriving, and soon Metellus would be here…She took special care with her appearance, pulling at the belt of her light blue gown until its skirt fell in fluid lines to her feet. She wrapped her hair in a close-fitting white headdress, and laid over the top of it a mantle of dark blue. She pinned it behind her head, letting it frame her face rather than conceal it. She rubbed a light perfume on her temples and wrists, and after a moment’s hesitation, on her ankles before sliding her feet into rich leather sandals.
A light knock sounded on the door, and Daphne entered the room. “How lovely you look! Come, Rachel, I’ll walk out with you.”
Daphne, too, looked beautiful, in an ivory-colored gown. She wore a matching mantle over her rich brown hair, but she never tried to hide her scars. Her black eyes were bright with an excitement that almost matched Rachel’s own.
The two women left the bedroom and entered the courtyard, where many of the guests were already assembled. They exclaimed over Rachel’s return and remarked with surprise on her happy appearance. Nearly all of Bethany was here, and many from the church in Jerusalem. Both Peter and John, two of Jesus’ first disciples, were present…and Peter’s wife, and his mother-in-law, who was very old. Rachel saw Mary of Magdala and her husband, whose name she couldn’t remember. There were other friends of the family…a devout man named Barnabas, and several of his cousins. Even Paul was here, the man who had won thousands of people to the Lord, and had been hunted, beaten and half-killed for his efforts.
For some reason Rachel was somewhat shy around him…he had a forceful personality and always said in a loud voice exactly what he thought. She had only seen him a few times when he was visiting, for she had never joined the family in worship. That, of course, would change now. He took her hand and told her, with his piercing blue eyes fixed on hers, that he was glad she was home.
“You are changed,” he said gruffly. He was not as tall as she, with a well-trimmed beard and a mixture of black and gray hair. “There is light in your eyes where once there was darkness—not the darkness of the unsaved, but of someone who has lost their way.”
“I found my w
ay,” she said quietly.
“Praise God! I wish I had known your father. In many of the cities I have been, he had been there before me—he and your mother. I hope to go to Rome someday, and visit the church there—the one he started.”
Simon came to stand beside them. “I’m afraid the church has been scattered…by Caesar.”
“Caesar did us a favor by expelling the Jews and Christians, for they took the word still further. But I am sure there are still many of them in Rome.”
Paul’s eyes fixed on Rachel’s face again, for she was obviously trying to restrain a smile of delight. He turned to see a tall, dark-haired man enter the room…he saw the man’s eyes meet Rachel’s, and he understood.
Metellus wore a light brown tunic with a wide, dark belt at his waist. His hair shone in the light of the lamps and torches. He nodded at the group before him, and Simon went to him at once, making introductions. Noticing how Rachel gazed at him, Daphne led her to a group of women, who were eagerly wishing to speak with her.
“How nice to see you feeling well, Rachel! Tell us about your journey…”
Rachel didn’t know where to begin, and merely said she had seen some interesting sights…and then she saw Benjamin enter the courtyard. He wore a long-sleeved tunic and over it a fine robe of dark gray, with a silver cloak flung over one shoulder. His narrow face lighted when he saw her, but before he could move toward her, Lazarus intercepted him and drew him into the house. Lazarus must be telling him about her marriage. She fidgeted nervously until the two men returned. Benjamin’s eyes went to her with stunned disapproval, but there was a determined air about him that she found disconcerting.
The music continued to play, voices rose and fell…there was much laughter and even some dancing before the servants began bringing platters of food to the vast tables. The guests took their plates to wherever they could find a place to sit, for there were chairs and cushions strewn throughout the courtyard. A few people who wished to speak privately made their way to the rooftop, and after catching Metellus’ eye, Rachel made her way up the outer stairs. After a moment he followed her, but to her dismay she saw that Benjamin was climbing up after them.
“Oh, what does he want?” she said irritably, peering over the balustrade.
“To claim his bride, no doubt,” Metellus said, but with a serious look that belied the lightness of his tone. There were five or six others in conversation around them. She and Metellus stood without speaking as Benjamin ascended the last steps.
“Rachel, at last,” he said, in his elegant voice and with the greatest courtesy. “Tribune Metellus—thank you for bringing Rachel safely to her home. I trust you encountered no difficulties?”
“A few,” Metellus answered, glancing at Rachel with a raised brow.
“Naturally, with a journey of that duration. Rachel, how are you, my dear?”
“I am well, thank you.” What kind of game was he playing, she wondered…for certainly Lazarus had told him the truth!
“I hope,” Benjamin said, “that you have not taken this marriage of yours seriously. Certainly a forced marriage, under such conditions, cannot be considered binding on either part.”
Rachel felt a flare of anger. “I do consider it binding. I must ask you to please withdraw your offer of betrothal. Didn’t Lazarus explain to you?”
Benjamin looked at Metellus. They were about the same height, and though he was slender, Benjamin had a very solid look about him.
“You, sir, are not going to keep her from her own people, her own kind, are you?”
“I may live among the Jews, but I am a Roman!” Rachel said, with quiet fury.
“A Roman, and a Christian,” Benjamin answered, imperturbably.
Before Metellus could speak, a voice called to them from below. They all glanced down to see Simon at the foot of the staircase. “Rachel and Metellus, and everyone up there! Come down for the speeches!”
Benjamin locked eyes with Metellus, who stared back at him until Benjamin turned and began descending the long row of steps. Metellus shook his head at Rachel’s furious look and took her arm, leading her down, and they were followed by the others.
The lamps and torches flared brightly in the darkness as they entered the courtyard, where everyone sat comfortably on their chairs and benches, or on the cushions spread upon the tiles. Two seats of honor had been prepared for Rachel and Metellus, wound with ribbons and garlands of flowers. They took their places, and Rachel resisted the urge to clasp his hand…though the temptation was a mighty one as Benjamin took a seat nearby.
There was still a murmur of voices among the onlookers, and Metellus took advantage of it to say to her in a low voice, “You told him?”
She shook her head and was about to reply when Lazarus rose and began to speak. Immediately the crowd grew quiet.
“Friends and fellow believers, it is with great happiness that I welcome home my ward—indeed, she is a daughter to me, as well as to our friends Simon and Daphne. Her mother was very dear to me, and to my family. You all know Rachel. She has suffered under a great burden since the death of her parents, but God has delivered her. She was called to Rome by the emperor, and was given a letter, written to her by her father, as he waited in prison. She has given me permission to read the letter to you, but first, I would also like to bestow honor on the man who escorted her to Rome, and brought her safely back to us. Tribune Metellus Petraeus.”
There was enthusiastic applause, and Metellus looked at Lazarus and nodded.
“From Rachel I have heard tales of a swordfight, and a storm,” Lazarus went on, “and probably other dangers that have not been mentioned, and we give credit and praise to God that these things were overcome. But God used the skill and courage of Metellus to carry out his protection. For that, sir, I thank you.”
Rachel didn’t dare look at Metellus, knowing her feelings would be blazing in her eyes. She wished this were a betrothal ceremony, instead of a feast to welcome her home! She kept her gaze lowered, but couldn’t stop her lips from smiling. She realized Lazarus was praying, and bowed her head still lower, wondering what Metellus thought about all this. She sensed his discomfort and stretched out her hand to touch his. He squeezed her hand, but stiffly, without warmth. Perhaps he didn’t like sharing his glory with God…and then she was appalled at herself for having such a thought.
When she raised her head she saw that Benjamin had been watching them. Why shouldn’t she announce her marriage, this very moment? There was no reason to put it off any longer, now that Benjamin knew. She was on the verge of speaking to Lazarus, and asking him to make the announcement, when she glanced at Metellus…and something in his face stopped her.
CHAPTER XVII
He was distant, as removed from her as though he had gone into another room. His face was sober, his eyes troubled, and they avoided hers. A feeling of deep uneasiness came over her.
“I want to thank all of you for coming to my house to share in this celebration,” Lazarus was saying. “I am especially pleased to have our leaders with us, Peter and his family, and Paul of Tarsus. Many of you may not be aware that very recently a council was held in Jerusalem about the acceptance of Gentiles into our faith. There had been some controversy as to whether or not they should have to adopt Jewish rituals, once they had been saved. Thankfully, it has all been settled. Our brother, James, with the approval of Paul and Peter and our other leaders, decided that Gentiles do not have to follow the Mosaic law, except in the prohibitions against fornication and idolatry, and in eating the meat of animals not properly slain. Paul and a few others will take a letter confirming this to the church at Antioch, where this controversy arose.”
Murmurs and nods of agreement met his words.
“James could not be present tonight,” Lazarus said. “I would have liked for him to speak to us. I would also like for Peter and John, and Paul, and anyone else who feels led to do so, to speak concerning their faith in the Lord. I trust our Roman friend will not mind, and the
re are many of our Greek friends here tonight, who have not heard these things.”
Rachel had become almost as still as Metellus. Why was Lazarus doing this now? It was too soon, it was too much…Metellus was not ready for this. Her spirit felt his resistance, and a growing resentment. But he only gave another courteous nod to Lazarus, and remained silent.
Peter had risen. He was a large man, and like Paul, had an intense gaze and an undeniable air of authority. He was not as eloquent as the other man, or as learned…for Paul had been educated in the finest schools…he was considered brilliant in the law and had studied under one of its most respected authorities, Gamaliel the Elder. Peter was a fisherman, a man who excelled in his profession but had little or no formal schooling. And Peter, unlike Paul, had been known to vacillate about certain matters, but one thing on which he never wavered…was the resurrection of Jesus Christ. He and most of the other disciples had gone into hiding immediately after the crucifixion…even before, if the truth be known…but the “third day” had changed them all, forever.
“I am not sure how much you have heard,” Peter said, his voice clear in the cool night air. “I always welcome an opportunity to speak of the Lord. I can only tell you what I know. I saw him heal the sick, the blind, the deaf. I saw him cast out demons, and feed thousands of hungry people with a few fish and a few loaves of bread. I saw him walk on the Sea of Galilee as though it were land, and watched him stop a violent storm with his word. I could go on, but I will tell you this…he died and was buried, and on the third day, rose from the dead. He is now at the right hand of the Father, interceding for man by virtue of the penalty he paid for man’s sin.”
He turned to the old woman sitting next to him. “He healed my mother-in-law of a fever, of which she would have died within a few hours. Perhaps his miracles were necessary, to get our attention, and to help us believe. Some of us have been given the power to heal, perhaps for the same reason. I don’t know how long we will have this power—or how many will have it in the years to come. When I look back and think of the life he lived, and the words he spoke, I am amazed that I ever doubted, that I was ever confused…when he was crucified. Yes, I was confused, and afraid, until the day we saw him…alive.”