Bread of Angels

by Tessa Afshar

  “He brought us here just in time to hear Paul and Silas. A week later, and we would have missed them. How our hearts needed this encouragement and added strength. Needed our brothers’ prayers. I want to thank you, dear Lydia, for opening your home to God. Because of your generous hospitality, we have been bolstered. Shored up, where we were starting to grow weak and despondent. The troubles of the world had wormed their way into our hearts. Now I feel fortified, ready to face this season of storms and challenges in Jerusalem.”

  Lydia waved a hand. “It has been my pleasure. Tell me, have you had any success finding a property that suits your needs here in Philippi?”

  “We have not. We will stay a few more days. Then we are headed for Corinth. More opportunities abound there for people in our trade. We will be sad to say goodbye.”

  Lydia smoothed out a small wrinkle from her chiton. “Everyone is leaving me.”

  Marcus, who still sat on her other side, leaned over. “Not everyone.”

  Early the next morning, Paul and his companions took their leave. Paul kissed Luke and Marcus on both cheeks, and then turning to Epaphroditus, kissed him with equal warmth. Epaphroditus wept openly at this mark of favor and friendship.

  The Pharisee turned to Rebekah. “Keep up with your studies, for you have the mind of a true pupil and the heart of a worshipper. Your father lost a great jewel when he cast you out of his home. But his loss has been our gain, sweet Rebekah.” Now it was Rebekah’s turn to weep.

  “Lydia, our precious sister.” Paul held her hands for a moment. “May God bless your home with his presence. Never forget your significance in his Kingdom. Fear nothing, for he will shelter you in any tempest you face. And open your heart to his plans for your future. They may not always match your expectations.”

  Rebekah handed Lydia two packages, which they had prepared beforehand. “We noticed you had lost your cloaks at the agora,” Lydia explained. “And your tunics, though mended after your beating, are in poor shape. Here is a gift to remedy the problem.”

  Silas opened his package to discover a new cloak and tunic. He cheered. “The blessings of God upon you, dear lady. I have been freezing for days.”

  Paul wrapped his thick gray cloak about him and purred like a cat. They took their leave of the rest of the household, including the visitors from Jerusalem. Each one received a special word, a token of affection.

  “My love to all of you in Christ Jesus,” Paul said as he walked away. “May his grace remain with you, my dear brothers and sisters. I will remember you in my prayers always.”

  SIXTY-ONE

  No weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed,

  and you shall refute every tongue that rises against you in judgment.

  This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD

  and their vindication from me, declares the LORD.

  ISAIAH 54:17

  LYDIA’S ENTIRE HOUSEHOLD came to cheer for the general as he received his honorary plaque. It looked like most of Philippi had done the same, for the forum teemed with people. The general had served many in his long life and was a popular citizen of the city. Even Leonidas had made a point of coming, since Varus was a staunch supporter of the theater.

  The general leaned on a delicately carved cane with an ivory handle as he waited for the ceremonies to begin. Lydia thought she recognized the cane as one Aemilia had liked to use years before. She noticed with a catch how fragile Varus had grown in the past months.

  Varus had asked that she, as his adopted daughter, stand with him, while his nephew and heir occupied the position of honor at his right hand. Someone fetched a chair, she was relieved to find, and Varus sat with a sigh.

  The ceremonies began and were kept thankfully short in deference to Varus’s age and health. Finally, they placed a crown of laurel leaves on his wrinkled brow and unveiled the plaque, which had been mounted on one of the public buildings, as everyone applauded.

  After presenting the general with a small gift and a daughterly kiss, Lydia turned to find the rest of her household.

  “Citizens of Philippi! Friends, Romans,” a familiar voice cried out from the center of the forum. Lydia wondered what Antiochus was up to now and continued to walk, her back to him. “Let us not disperse yet. It is my sad responsibility to share with you tidings that would shock most of you. Tidings you have every right to hear, for they concern one of our own citizens.”

  Lydia came to a standstill. A chill went through her. She forced her feet to pivot, forced her body to remain where it was rather than run at the sight that greeted her: Antiochus and Jason, standing together at the center of the forum.

  “My news concerns Lydia, the renowned seller of purple in our city. We have trusted her for years. Trusted her with our coin and our confidence. Trusted her to be an honest merchant.”

  Lydia closed her eyes. Her mouth became a grim line as she watched her life crumble before her eyes. Rebekah appeared at her side as she always did when there was trouble. Then Marcus arrived, followed by Elianna, Ethan, and Viriato. Even Epaphroditus was there.

  At least she would not be alone when her world shattered. They stood about her like a wall of flesh, unmovable.

  “This man is Jason of Thyatira,” Antiochus continued. The crowd had come to a standstill. “He is a wealthy merchant from that city. It happens that he knew Lydia well when she was a young woman. Her father, a man by the name of Eumenes, was a Thyatiran dye master. Jason’s mother, Dione, was for a short time in business with Eumenes. Short, because Eumenes was a thief.”

  “It is true,” Jason said, his head bobbing up and down. “The man was charged for stealing from my mother and was flogged for his crime.”

  The throng gasped. A few jeered. Antiochus held up his hands, motioning for silence.

  “Jason tells me that Lydia worked for her father when the theft was discovered. It’s not likely that she would have been uninformed about his dishonesty. So here you are, people of Philippi. This supposedly honorable merchant is not only the daughter of a thief but has probably stolen herself. Who is to say that she has not been robbing us for all these years? Once a thief, always a thief. You judge among yourselves what is to be done about this charge.”

  The noise grew louder than before, angry now. Paralyzed by fear, Lydia watched accusing fingers raised toward her.

  You are the anchor of my soul, Lord. With the silent prayer reverberating in her mind, a steadiness poured into her. She took one step. You are my hope. She took another step. My security. Another step. You ground me in all that is steady and solid and good.

  She now stood in the center of the crowd’s view. In an instant, everyone hushed.

  “It is true that my father, Eumenes, was charged with theft,” she began. The crowd jeered. She held up a hand. “But the accusation was false. This man, Jason, and his mother, lied and cheated in order to rob us of our land and business. There is a thief standing in your midst. But it is not I. It is Jason of Thyatira. I cannot prove my claim. I can only ask you to judge me by what you know of me.”

  She pointed to one of the praetors. “You, Justus, wear a tunic you purchased from my store twenty years ago. It still looks vibrant. And you, Gaius—is that cloak not one of mine? Has it faded? Has it worn thin? Did you pay too much for it?”

  Antiochus stepped forward. “Just because you have a few satisfied customers does not make you honest, Lydia.”

  Another grumble rose from the mob. Lydia dropped her head.

  The sound of a crash interrupted the seething crowd. Silenced, everyone stretched their necks to discover the source of the unexpected noise. The general had taken a stance under his plaque. His cane was broken in two. His beautiful plaque, just installed, lay at his feet in tiny pieces. In his fury, he had shattered both.

  “Are you speaking about my daughter, Antiochus?” the general said. “I have never known her to be less than trustworthy. Once she owed my mother a small debt, and she paid it in full before the debt came due. As to he
r father, I knew the man personally. He had better purple than you, and his prices were always fair. Not once did he cheat me or the friends I brought to him.”

  Lydia almost wept. Varus had never called her daughter before. Never defended her, even in private.

  “She may have given a prompt accounting to your mother, Varus, but—” Antiochus began.

  Leonidas interrupted, his actor’s voice loud and compelling. “Whom shall we believe? This stranger from Thyatira, or our own Lydia? Many of us have tasted of her kindness. She helped me once, when she had nothing to gain by it. Lydia, a thief? Might as well call me a hater of wine.” He raised his silver chalice, sloshing over with purple juice. The crowd roared.

  Demetrius stepped forward. “She helped me, also. In the years I have worked alongside her in the guild, not once have I glimpsed a shadow of dishonesty in her dealings. She has practiced nothing but integrity in our midst and is highly regarded by her colleagues.”

  Appollonia drew nearer to stand by her new manager. “She gave me assistance when my husband left me a widow. Others would have robbed me.” She threw a glance in Antiochus’s direction. “Lydia served me as a friend and asked for nothing in return.”

  Chloris’s father, Belos, spoke next. “Mistress Lydia helped me as no other would. She took care of my little girl. You will never convince me that she is a thief.”

  Agnodice’s voice rose. “People of Philippi, I wish I could give you a potion to heal you of your foolishness. Then again, I suppose I would be a lot wealthier if I could create such medicine, given the number of fools that populate this empire.” The crowd chortled. “Consider what you know to be true of Lydia. The woman helps the poor, opens her home to strangers, gives you fair prices, assists a friend in need, and creates merchandise to make our city proud. What more evidence do you want? Stop this nonsense and go home.”

  “It is not nonsense, Agnodice,” Antiochus said. “A charge has come against her, and we require a reckoning.”

  “I am Marcus Cornelius Marcius of Rome, a visitor to your fair city,” Marcus said in his pure Latin. He charmed the crowd with his patrician manners. Philippians were easily impressed by these marks of the world’s influence, and Marcus plied them with expertise. “Do you give me leave to speak in regard to these proceedings?”

  The people cheered, and Marcus lifted his hand as a sign of his appreciation.

  “You ask for a reckoning, Antiochus. But it seems to me that we have given you more than enough reckoning already. Any reasonable man here among us is convinced of Lydia’s innocence. Evidence in her defense has been given from the highest to the lowest residents of this city. But you do not seem satisfied. Who is safe from such a tongue as yours, or from the depths of your suspicion? I suppose next you will accuse your own cousin Epaphroditus’s father of being a thief.”

  “His father is a thief!” Antiochus yelled.

  The crowd roared with laughter.

  “Oh, come now, Antiochus. That is a good jest. What next? Shall you accuse our honored praetors of demanding the flogging of Roman citizens without a trial?”

  The praetor, being reminded of the grave mistake he had made only days before—thanks in large part to Antiochus’s prodding—stepped forward. “This has gone far enough. We believe Lydia. Jason of Thyatira, we command you to leave this city by morning. You have been here a brief time, and already disorder follows you. And, Antiochus, I expect you to cease this fondness for rabble-rousing. Another such public display, and you will answer to me.”

  SIXTY-TWO

  And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.

  PHILIPPIANS 1:6

  SECRETS BURROW IN THE ground of the heart like moles. They dig until the heart is pockmarked with their wounds. The holes they leave behind fester and overflow with all manner of poison, with fear and bitterness and dread.

  For years Lydia had lived with secrets. Little by little, since Paul’s arrival, she had pulled them out and brought them into the light, astonished to find that they lost their power once exposed. The poison drained, the holes filled. Her heart rested.

  By forcing her greatest dread into the open, Antiochus had done her a favor. He had intended to cut her. Instead, his hand had ushered in the healing of God.

  They were back at her home, she and her guests and the rest of her household. A feast seemed to have appeared of its own accord, and everyone was celebrating as if it were their personal victory. Even the general had ignored his aches and pains and joined them. He sat next to a flirting Syntyche, looking dazed and twirling his broken cane.

  Agnodice wagged a finger at him. “Why did you smash that beautiful plaque, General?”

  “I could not speak loud enough to gain everyone’s attention. My age, you see.”

  The physician felt his arm muscles. “Not so old.”

  The general grinned, looking pleased with himself. “In truth, I did not like the plaque overmuch. It was rather small, didn’t you think? So I promised the praetor that I would pay to replace it. I’ll make certain the next one is a decent size.”

  A wasp had managed to find its way into the large chamber, and Leonidas chased it with determined glee, a shoe in one hand and a full cup in the other. “I have named it Antiochus,” he yelled. “Their stings are on different ends. Other than that, they are very alike.”

  Agnodice hushed him and ordered him to behave. She would have had more success ordering the waves of the Mediterranean to conduct themselves more becomingly.

  Lydia noticed Epaphroditus perching alone in a corner and joined him. “I wanted to tell you that you are welcome to stay here if you wish. You can continue to work for me. Your slate is clean as far as I am concerned.”

  His eyes widened. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “For what you did, I forgive you, Epaphroditus.”

  “Mistress, I am more ashamed than ever, now that I have learned of your history. Your father was accused, same as mine. Only he was innocent. And still, you remained upright and good. You lost everything you owned, and you did not allow fear to drive you into the wrong path.”

  “What you did is in the past, Epaphroditus. I, too, know the power of fear. It is hard to resist its crushing hold.”

  Agnodice interrupted, unaware of the nature of their conversation. “Lydia,” she said, “will you tell us the full story of what happened in Thyatira?”

  Lydia sat on a cushion and gathered her thoughts for a moment. “My ancestors lived in Thyatira for generations. Long before Rome became her master, our family made their home there. I thought I would spend all my days in the land of my forefathers and be buried with them in the soil of Thyatira. But God had other plans for me.”

  She told her story, glossing over her feelings for Jason. She told no lies. She chose merely to refrain from exposing certain details. This crowd was too big for such intimacies. Though she had learned to entrust her past with a few special companions, sharing personal details of her life with a large group of people was not something she considered wise.

  “I always knew you were strong,” Leonidas said. “But I did not realize what you had to overcome in order to achieve so much.”

  “I could not have done it alone.” Lydia smiled, her eyes bright. “I had Rebekah, who has been better than a sister and wiser than a Greek lawyer. The general’s mother, Aemilia, was like a grandmother and banker and manager rolled into one. If there is any victory in my life, it is because each one of you has played a role in it.”

  The hour had grown late when her guests drifted home. Lydia was wakeful, her body still caught in the upheaval of the day. She stepped outside into the moonless night, enjoying the stillness.

  “May I join you?” a familiar voice asked. The darkness enveloped them so that she could only perceive the outline of his form.

  “Of course.”

  Marcus remained silent, as if aware of her need for a few tranquil moments.

  Abruptly, she chuc
kled, breaking the silence.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I am still astounded by how you managed to twist Antiochus’s plan against him. How did you think of it? No one will ever believe his accusation against Epaphroditus’s father now. It was utter genius. If your buildings are half as clever, you should be designing whole cities.”

  “It pleases me that he will not have to live with that threat hanging over him.” He took a deep breath and held it. “Smells like rain.”

  “We need it. It has been a dry year.”

  “I hope Paul and Silas and Timothy have somewhere warm and dry to sleep tonight.”

  “You miss them?”

  “I was with them for only a few weeks. But they felt like family by the time they left.” He was silent for a moment. “I found the mason. The one who tampered with your marble lintel.”

  Lydia gasped. “You spoke to him?”

  “He did not put up much of a fight. Loyalty, apparently, is not a virtue he holds in high esteem. He admitted Antiochus had paid him. Epaphroditus was with me, and Luke. We all three bear witness to his testimony.”

  “What next?”

  “That is up to you. We can charge Antiochus publicly. It will be a scandal for him, though I am not sure he will end in prison. He will accuse you of bribing the mason. He will accuse the mason of lying. He might wriggle out of the charge entirely. He is a wealthy man and prone to giving fat bribes. He could emerge like a wounded bear, more dangerous than before.”

  “Or we could do nothing.”

  Marcus shrugged. “Also not an ideal solution.”

  “Once, when we were much younger, Rebekah and I saw Antiochus behave with unimaginable cruelty.” She told him about the rabbits. “I decided then that we should not speak up. I feared his anger and revenge.” She pulled her mantle more closely about her. “I have regretted that decision a thousand times. Perhaps if we had gone to Rufus, he would have been able to intervene, to stop the twisted bent that had started to warp his son’s character.