Bread of Angels

by Tessa Afshar

Lydia could feel the blood rushing to her face. “She is only ten.”

  “As I said, too old.”

  “Then change your tastes,” she said, her voice like iron.

  Antiochus gritted his teeth until the bones in his jaw stood out. “I will give you seven days, starting today, to change your mind.” With jerky motions, he pulled off his cloak and threw it at Lydia’s feet. “You can keep this. It’s ruined,” he said, enunciating each word with deliberation. “This is not the first thing I have destroyed. You will find I have a talent for that.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “Remember. Seven days.”

  He walked out, his steps measured. Somehow he had managed to fold his animosity and hide it under a perfectly calm exterior before he greeted the world outside. Bile rose up in Lydia’s throat. She was not fooled. She knew his rage percolated just beneath the surface, poised to strike with deadly aim.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Anxiety in a man’s heart weighs him down,

  but a good word makes him glad.

  PROVERBS 12:25

  LYDIA RESTED HER FOREHEAD against a shaking palm. An oppressive weight pressed against her chest so that she could only breathe in shallow huffs.

  Fear.

  Unreasoning, gnawing, hungry fear. Next to it, Antiochus looked like a tame squirrel. She resisted its rising hold as she had learned to do since childhood. She would do the right thing even if fear swallowed her up. She would persevere through it as she always had. But oh, why did she have to be so enslaved by its power?

  “How did you fare?” Rebekah’s soft voice came from the door.

  Lydia tried to repress the quaking in her voice. “He seems displeased with me. He believes I took Chloris with the intention of depriving him.”

  Rebekah smiled. “Well, to be fair, that is exactly what you did.”

  “Maybe so. But it was ungenerous of him to reach that conclusion. He is determined to make me his chief enemy. He did give me seven days to change my mind. Merciful, by his standards.”

  Rebekah was not fooled by Lydia’s light tone. She wrapped her arms around her friend and held her for a moment of pure, fortifying love. “We will find a way. With God’s help.”

  “Well, he had better send us his assistance soon. I have stepped on a hungry lion’s tail, and he is roaring in my ear. How is Chloris?”

  “Subdued as always when there is mention of Antiochus.”

  “Thank goodness her father spoke to me before the auction.”

  Antiochus had offered Belos enough for the girl to clear the father’s debts and end his financial woes. Belos, pathetic parent that he was, did have enough heart not to want Chloris in the clutches of a man like Antiochus. At least he had not been fooled by Antiochus’s charm like most of the rest of Philippi. Instead, Belos got drunk on cheap wine he could not afford and sold Chloris to a slave trader. Then he ran all the way to Lydia’s house, blubbering with tears, begging her to buy the girl.

  “Why didn’t you come to me from the start?” Lydia had said. “I could have relieved your debts and moved the girl into the safety of my home quietly. Now I have to contend with a slave trader’s greed as well as with Antiochus.”

  “Forgive me, mistress! I was too scared to approach you. I thought you would berate me and tell me to take care of my own problems. But now that the child is sold, I can’t bear to leave her unprotected. You have a kind heart. I beg you to help her.”

  Lydia had managed to buy Chloris at an inflated price before she was placed on public auction. The last thing she wanted was a bidding match with Antiochus. Such an affront to his pride he would never forgive. Besides, she was not sure she could have won. Antiochus had three generations of money to throw around.

  “Appollonia is still waiting,” Rebekah reminded Lydia.

  “Graces help me. I forgot about her.”

  “She tells me that you spoke to her of Demetrius. You do not intend to take Demetrius from Antiochus also? Not after Chloris?”

  Lydia pulled down the neck of her tunic and tried to take a deep breath. “It’s a good solution. Appollonia is out of her head with grief. She needs a skilled steward to protect her; anyone could cheat her while she is in this state of mind.”

  Rebekah snorted. “Anyone could cheat her in any state of mind. She understands nothing about managing a business. But can’t you come up with another solution?”

  “What would you have me do? Run the business for her? I barely have time to care for my own workshops. She needs a manager who will not take advantage of her naiveté. You know as well as I there is no man better suited to the job than Demetrius. And I would like to do him a good turn. He has been a gracious friend to us through the years. Just last month he helped me make a profitable trade. At Antiochus’s expense, I might add. And it wasn’t the first time he has proved of benefit to me.”

  “If Antiochus finds out what you are planning, he will stop at nothing short of ruining you.”

  Lydia pressed the bridge of her nose. “He will smash his honorary plaque over my head and dye his new cloak with my blood. But let us not concern ourselves with such dismal thoughts.”

  Rebekah bent to retrieve the man’s cloak from the ground. She frowned at its stained corner. “What’s this? Was he trying to sneak out a sample of our dye?”

  “He’s not that clever. He could drink the whole vat of dye and urinate purple for a week and still not figure out my father’s formula. The stain on his cloak is a mere accident. And a reminder to me that he is good at destroying things.”

  “You must hold what I am about to tell you in strictest confidence, Appollonia. Antiochus can never know that you have received this information from me.”

  Appollonia nodded, her eyes wide.

  “Just before Rufus died last year, he secretly sent for a magistrate. Rufus had a legal certificate of manumission drawn for Demetrius and gave him his freedom. But he made Demetrius promise that he would work for Antiochus one additional year to help put the affairs of the workshop in good order before leaving.”

  “Wait. I thought Demetrius belonged to Antiochus.”

  Lydia shook her head. “No. Rufus is the one who bought him. He never gave him to Antiochus legally. Demetrius continued to work at the workshop when Rufus’s health prevented him from overseeing the workshop personally and he all but retired. Rufus knew Demetrius was a far better manager than his own son and allowed the arrangement to go on.

  “But as he lay dying, his conscience smote him. Demetrius had served him faithfully for two decades. In some ways he was closer to Rufus than his only son. The old man felt he owed him a better legacy than a lifetime of servitude to Antiochus. So he gave Demetrius his freedom, with the proviso I spoke of. According to the law, Demetrius is no longer a slave.

  “More to the point, twelve months have passed since that day. This very week, Demetrius will be free of his promise. He will be able to work where he chooses.

  “The news of his manumission will come as a great shock to Antiochus. His father never told him what he had done. As far as Antiochus is concerned, he has inherited ownership of Demetrius along with everything else from his father. He does not know that in a matter of hours Demetrius will walk away. Indeed, the man is already legally free to do so.”

  “Free to manage a different workshop in Philippi?”

  “Precisely.”

  Appollonia pulled her drab shawl tighter about her shoulders. “Antiochus will not like this.”

  “He will not. If you choose this path, you will no doubt have a few battles before you. But you will have Demetrius to help you. I doubt Antiochus will dare to come directly against you. Demetrius is privy to many of his business secrets. He will not want to rile him.”

  Appollonia shook her head. “How do you know all this?”

  “I was there.”

  Appollonia’s eyes widened. “You were there? The night Rufus gave Demetrius his freedom?”

  Lydia shrugged. “Rufus sent for me.”<
br />
  “Why would he do that?”

  “We were friends. I think he wished to have company, on such a night.”

  “But why did he choose you? Philippi is full of influential men who counted themselves his friends. Why did he call on you?”

  “I once did him a small service. He trusted me after that, in a way prosperous men trust few people. We enjoyed a rare friendship based on respect and mutual admiration. He helped open many doors for me when I first came to Philippi.”

  “No wonder Dryton admired you so much.” Appollonia twisted the edge of her shawl until her fingers turned white. “I would be a fool not to take this opportunity. Tell Demetrius to come and see me the moment he is free of his promise. The job of steward to Dryton’s trade is his if he wants it.”

  She rose to take her leave. There was color in her cheeks now and a determined gleam in her tear-soaked eyes. At the door, she turned. “I doubt your service to Rufus was as insignificant as you say. I know what your help has meant to me.”

  Lydia slumped on the couch after her guest departed. She could not believe it was only the first day of the week, at least according to the Jewish calendar. She seemed to have gathered enough troubles for a month. Six more days until the Sabbath. Six more days before she and Rebekah could go to the river and have a quiet day of rest and prayer.

  Lydia knew it was a sorrow to Rebekah that there were too few Jews in Philippi to establish a synagogue. But for the past few years, the two of them, along with the other Jews and God-fearers in the area, had made a habit of gathering at the river on the Sabbath to pray and worship God. It was a welcome respite and time of refreshment for Lydia as she learned more about the God she had chosen to follow.

  With a deep breath, she forced her mind back to the matter at hand. Crafting a letter with carefully chosen words, she sealed the papyrus with her ring and called her servant, Epaphroditus. A capable and intelligent man, he had worked at the shop for several years and had proven himself worthy of her trust. She handed him the freshly written scroll.

  “For Demetrius. Give it into his own hands, and no other.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  The slave does not remain in the house forever.

  JOHN 8:35

  “ARE YOU FREE AT LAST, MY FRIEND?” Lydia asked Demetrius. Two days had passed since he had fulfilled his promise to Rufus and walked away from Antiochus’s workshop, a man at liberty according to both Roman law and the gentler whispers of moral responsibility. He had come to see her in the cover of night in an attempt to hide their association from Antiochus.

  “Hard as it is to believe after so many years, I am a freedman.” Demetrius rubbed his hands together.

  “Cause for celebration.” She handed him a goblet of wine. “From the sun-drenched hills of Italy, where you and I have never been. You will find it mellow and sweet, fitting for this joyous occasion.”

  “And here comes Chloris with our supper,” Rebekah said. For once, the girl walked at a decorous pace, looking like a princess in her new pink tunic and gold beads. Lydia dismissed her with a smile and told her she could retire for the evening.

  Demetrius leaned forward and whispered, “Is she the girl Antiochus fumed about for days? But she is only a child!”

  “She is that. But she is also ravishing, a combination he can’t seem to resist.” Lydia took a sip of her wine. “Tell us, how did Antiochus take the news? Did he lose consciousness when you told him you were leaving?”

  Demetrius smirked. “If only he had done me that favor. But no, he remained upright for two full hours, and would not allow me to sit either. At first, he accused me of forging the documents of manumission. Threatened to throw me into jail. When I pointed out both his father’s and the magistrate’s seals, he grew quiet.”

  “A pleasant change,” Lydia said.

  “It did not last, sadly. He said he would ruin me wherever I went. Expose me as a false and conniving steward, so no one would hire me in Philippi or anywhere else in the Roman Empire. I had already spoken to Appollonia by then, for which I thank you. I told him that I had a new employer who trusted my loyalty.

  “He changed tack then, and offered me a plump salary if I stayed on as his manager.”

  “What did you say?” Rebekah asked.

  “I thanked him for his generosity and told him that the honor of working for him for these many years was enough to last me a lifetime.”

  Lydia put an olive in her mouth. “Did he let you go, then?”

  “No. There followed more threats. Shouting. Bribes. In the end, I rose up and left whilst he was in the midst of another tirade.”

  “And how do you like Appollonia?” Rebekah said.

  Demetrius hid his face in his goblet for a long moment as he drank. When he raised his head, Lydia noted that his cheeks had turned red. “She is very beautiful.”

  “She is very inexperienced. Antiochus will come against her; you know that,” Lydia warned.

  The good-natured cast of Demetrius’s face turned hard. “He best watch his step, or he will have to contend with me. I will not stand aside and allow him to harm her. Not even for the sake of Rufus’s memory.”

  Lydia nodded, satisfied. “That is all I needed to hear. Now dig into this lamb while it’s still hot.”

  Demetrius grinned. “The next supper is on me. Appollonia is paying me a fair salary, as well as a percentage of the proceeds of every sale. Was that your idea, perchance?”

  Lydia shrugged. “It might have been. Given the fact that she will have to depend on you entirely for the running of the workshop, I thought it a fair arrangement.”

  “One I much appreciate. I will be a wealthy man come next year. And she will be a wealthier woman. If ever you need a favor, Lydia, I am your man.” He chewed on a delicate pastry. “How is old General Varus? Is he still among the living?”

  “Yes, God be praised. He has inherited his mother’s talent for long life, and I appreciate it more with every passing day. Life is much easier with his name behind me. It took him a decade, if not two, to finally accept my involvement in business. He now smiles when he sees me and no longer lectures me about the evils a maiden faces in the world of trade.”

  “I imagine the trunkfuls of tasteful purple goods you have sent him over the years have worn down his objections. Still, I am your servant, Lydia. If ever the general’s name proves insufficient and you need help in any matter, call on me.”

  “I think our friend is very taken with the young widow,” Rebekah said after their guest had left.

  “Demetrius? You jest. He is past all that nonsense.”

  “He is a handful of years older than you, and you are only forty-two! Not exactly an old woman, for all that you act as one sometimes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “My point is that over the years, I have seen men fawning at your feet, sick with love, desperate for your attention, and you don’t even notice. If Demetrius is falling in love with Appollonia, you would be the last person in Macedonia to realize it.”

  Lydia scratched her head. “I don’t think I am as hopeless as that.”

  “Name one man who would have declared his love for you if you had given him the slightest opportunity. Just one name will suffice.”

  Lydia cleared her throat, unable to think of the requisite name. “In any case, if you are right, I pity the man. Appollonia still mourns for her husband. And Demetrius does not strike me as the man to draw her attention. Her head is full of romantic notions and athletic, handsome men.”

  “That is a pity, for he is just the man for her. Protective, loyal, caring, kind, intelligent.”

  “And the gawkiest man I ever met.”

  “Gawky men can make marvelous husbands.”

  Lydia threw her hands in the air. “I found her an honest manager. Husbands are beyond my aptitude.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  Those who sow in tears

  shall reap with shouts of joy!

  PSALM 126:5

  LYDIA WAS SOR
TING THROUGH a sample of glass beads newly arrived from Cyprus when Rebekah settled herself on the stool before her. “These are pretty,” she said, rolling a few beads in her palm.

  “They will make lovely buttons for the new Greek tunics. And I am considering designing a matching belt, using the same beads.” The Greek-style tunic, the chiton, had grown in popularity in recent years. During the cold winter months, especially, its longer sleeves provided additional warmth, while the buttons or pins at the shoulders and arms lent the garment an added sense of distinction.

  “Every woman who buys a chiton will want to buy its matching belt. Two sales in place of one.”

  Lydia grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

  “I almost forgot. This letter came for you today. From Judea.”

  Lydia broke the seal and quickly read through the contents. She clapped her hands. “It is from Elianna and Ethan.”

  “Your friends in Jerusalem?”

  Lydia nodded. “I only met them once, and that was thirty years ago. Yet in a strange way, God has knit our hearts together most dearly.”

  “You never told me how you met.”

  “My father was trying to expand his business at the time. We traveled all the way to Judea to find new buyers for his dye, which he had perfected not long before. I was eleven at the time and probably a great nuisance to him. But he would not be parted from me, and in truth, I would not be parted from him, so off I went to Judea.”

  “I wish I had met your father. He is everything my own father was not.”

  Lydia pressed her friend’s hand. “I, too, wish you had met him. He would have loved you.”

  Rebekah smiled. “It is odd that you have been to Jerusalem, and I, a Jew, have never visited. Your friends were merchants there?”

  Lydia nodded. “Ethan’s parents invited us to their home to discuss my father’s dye, and Elianna joined us. It was an unusual meeting, what with an eleven-year-old and a woman participating in the business discussion. The land of your forefathers is not nearly so open-minded toward women as we are in Macedonia.”