The Last Sacrifice

by Hank Hanegraaff

  “How could anyone here know anybody in Rome?” Pavo continued, muttering. “This is so wrong.”

  Vitas remained silent. Pavo had said nothing about their destination, nor the reason he’d taken Vitas off the ship as a captive. They’d walked for nearly an hour already, moving upward and eastward from the Great Harbor to the sprawling Jewish Quarter of Alexandria, walking wide streets past opulent mansions with private oasis gardens behind thick courtyard walls, then seeing smaller but still luxurious homes, then apartment blocks; and as they moved deeper into the Jewish Quarter, a mixture of homes and slums, until reaching a market bazaar with warrens of alleys branching out from it like cracks in parched soil.

  “Well,” Pavo demanded. “Tell me. Who here would know someone in Rome?”

  “I assumed it was a rhetorical question,” Vitas said mildly. He wasn’t upset. He was certain that Pavo intended no bodily harm and equally certain that he was not being delivered into danger. If someone in Rome had wanted him dead, that person or persons would have left him to face the animals in the arena instead of going to all this complicated and secretive effort to send him out of Nero’s reach. Out of curiosity, Vitas had decided to passively go where Pavo led, then at the best opportunity, escape and return to Alexandria’s Great Harbor to find a ship going to Rome, where he would give a passenger a letter to deliver to his brother, Damian.

  “Rhetorical?” Pavo said. “Don’t play Greek logic word games with me.”

  “My only involvement so far has been to walk where prodded.”

  “As if you don’t know where I’m taking you.”

  Vitas shrugged.

  “Your friends in Rome,” Pavo said, “made my task very clear. Deliver you to a man named Issachar in Alexandria. Since they are your friends, why wouldn’t you know Issachar?”

  Because, Vitas thought, I have no idea who put me on this ship. Nor why.

  “Look at this,” Pavo snapped, gesturing at their surroundings. “Is this where the rich and powerful live?”

  His question did not need an answer. That they were at the rear of the Roman-style buildings, facing steps to take them to the top floor, suggested that the only residents ever traveling this path were the poorest of poor, forced to live on the top floor in cramped rooms.

  Creaking of the steps above them alerted Vitas and Pavo that someone was climbing down to the alley.

  “Good,” Pavo said. “Saves me the effort of going up myself to ask for the man.”

  Moments later, a tall, thin man stepped onto the dirt of the alley. He was stooped and had a gnarled old face. His most distinctive feature was his left hand, where all that remained were his thumb and index finger.

  His eyes met Pavo’s, and the man flinched as if a cold wind had blown over him.

  “By the gods,” Pavo roared. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hello? Hello?”

  It was a soft voice calling from the entrance of the cave.

  Sophia, curled on her side and staring at nothing, lifted her head from the pillow she had made from her filthy coat. The cave was on the eastern slope of the island hills, already in the shadow of late-afternoon sun. Yet there was enough light in the sky that a bulging outline of a woman was clearly visible at the entrance.

  “Hello?” the woman repeated. “Hello? I’ve brought food and drink.”

  The woman moved inside slowly. Her right arm seemed pinned in a peculiar manner to her right side. Her left arm was bent at the elbow to hold the handle of a basket.

  “Hello?”

  For Sophia, finding the strength to sit upright was like pulling herself out of mud. “I’m here,” she said in a dull voice.

  The woman shuffled slowly deeper into the cave. She was breathing hard. She groaned as she settled heavily beside Sophia.

  “Forgive me,” she said, her right side facing away from Sophia. She released the basket handle from the crook of her left arm, letting it slide down to her hand. She set the basket down gently. “I’m in my final month, and it feels like I’ve been pregnant forever.”

  Pregnant. Sophia was in her third month. Once, the thought had filled her with joy. Now it was merely a burden that made it difficult to keep down food that was tasteless in the first place.

  “Strabo and Ben-Aryeh are at the cottage,” the woman said. She removed a veil from her head with her left hand. The indirect light from the mouth of the cave was enough to highlight the left side of her face. She was young too, perhaps Sophia’s age, with a classic beauty and skin that looked unworn by time or sorrow. “They are discussing goats as if they have been friends for years. They told me you prefer to remain here.”

  Sophia shrugged. What difference did it make? Strabo and Ben-Aryeh had already decided that she and Ben-Aryeh would spend the night in the cave. Why go through the effort of leaving it? Besides, there was something comforting to Sophia about staying in a cave. Perhaps she would never leave.

  “The soldiers didn’t stay long,” the woman said. “Zeno—he’s our son—and I sat in the vineyard and sang songs to each other while we waited for them to tire of looking for us. If it hadn’t been for the heat and my pregnancy, it would have been enjoyable. As it was, it wasn’t too much of a hardship.”

  “We’re sorry to bring trouble on you,” Sophia mumbled. Then, without warning, she found herself weeping.

  The woman put her left hand on Sophia’s shoulder, but Sophia shook it off. Nothing would help. Nothing mattered.

  The woman pretended it had not happened. “My name is Chara,” she said. She turned slightly. “I’m Strabo’s wife.”

  Sophia didn’t bother to wipe the tears from her face. Perhaps if she refused to talk, the woman would go away.

  “You saw Strabo giving a lesson to our new goat,” Chara said. “Ben-Aryeh tells me it’s the funniest thing he’s seen in years.”

  Sophia didn’t care.

  “If you’re curious,” Chara continued, “Strabo does that because whenever he buys a new male goat, he wants to teach the goat to be afraid of him. Out on the hillside, when Strabo is tending to some of the nannies, he doesn’t want to worry about the goat attacking him.”

  Sophia wasn’t even a bit curious. She only wanted to lie down again and sleep and never wake.

  “A full-sized man doesn’t have to worry about such things,” Chara said lightly. “But Strabo is a brave man and he accepts his size without complaining.” Chara paused. Smiled. “At least, without complaining much.” Chara’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You lost your husband, I’m told. I am so sorry for you.”

  Sophia barely shrugged. “Terrible things happen. Everywhere. All the time. Sorrow is so common in this world it is hardly worth a thought.”

  “Just as love is unique to each of us,” Chara said softly, “so is the sorrow that comes when something loved is lost.”

  “Don’t waste pity on me. I don’t.”

  Which was true. Hour by hour, day by day, Sophia felt nothing. Only emptiness, filling a black chasm of apathy. She followed Ben-Aryeh because there was nothing else to be done.

  “It’s not pity but shared sorrow.”

  “What do you know about sorrow?” Sophia said. “You have a boy, a baby on the way, a husband, and a home.”

  “My heart knows that no sorrow is too great for our Father to overcome,” Chara answered. “I’ve been given hope beyond understanding because of this faith.”

  Sophia didn’t bother to answer.

  “In Ephesus, there was a man named John,” Chara said. “Through his teachings, I heard about this great hope through a Nazarene sent from God.”

  “Yes, yes,” Sophia said, sinking deeper into herself. “The Christos. I’m familiar with the teachings.”

  “But do you know the Christos? No matter how heavy your burden, He will take it from you and—”

  “I want to sleep,” Sophia said.

  “I understand,” Chara said.

  No, you don’t, Sophia thought. You don’t understand the distance be
tween me and God. You don’t understand that the teachings of the Christos no longer seem to give solace. You don’t understand that sleep has become an escape, yet no amount of sleep removes the exhaustion.

  Chara used her left arm to push herself forward, then, as if a thought hit her, settled back. After long moments, perhaps gathering her words, she spoke. “Lucullus, the commander of the barracks, brings prostitutes to the island from Ephesus on the supply ship. Most women leave on the next ship. Some stay longer, because the money is good and the soldiers have no other place to spend it.”

  What of it? Sophia thought. Prostitutes are common.

  “I was one of them,” Chara said, as if accurately reading her silence. “And I was one of them who didn’t return to Ephesus on the next supply ship.”

  Chara sighed. “For me, the money was so good that I sent for my son, Zeno. I lived in a small cottage near the sea. My time with Zeno was all that mattered. My time with the soldiers . . .”

  Chara stopped, gathering her words again. “My time with soldiers was no different than my time with men in Ephesus. The more money I made, the less value I felt. When John arrived on the island, I felt a hunger to hear more of what he’d been teaching in Ephesus. Day after day, I returned to John to ask about the Christos, until one morning I finally fell on my knees and prayed to the Christos. All my shame and worthlessness was taken away. John baptized me, as he had once seen the Christos baptized. I had worth again. I was healed in a way that no doctor could ever heal me.”

  “I am familiar with the teachings,” Sophia said. “Thank you for your effort to share them with me.”

  “No matter what tribulation we face, because of the Christos and His sacrifice, Gentile or Jew, through faith in the Christos, we all become part of the true Israel and heirs of God’s promises to Abraham.”

  “I am tired,” Sophia said.

  Chara did not seem to take insult at Sophia’s bluntness. Not that Sophia cared what Chara thought.

  “I will leave you in peace,” Chara said. Chara kept the left side of her face toward Sophia as she struggled to her feet. “Ben-Aryeh will have blankets to keep you warm while you stay in the cave.” She leaned over and pushed the basket toward Sophia. “There is plenty. Strabo is a good man and provides well for his family.”

  “You are a blessed woman,” Sophia said with a trace of bitterness, the only emotion that ever came when she found the strength for any feelings.

  Chara must have understood the tone in her voice. “Please forgive me. I did not mean to point out that I have what you don’t.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” Sophia said. “My husband is dead. There is nothing I care about. Truly.”

  Two of Vitas’s escorts had the man with the missing fingers pressed against the wall.

  Like Pavo, Vitas had recognized the man immediately. One of the crew members on Pavo’s ship.

  “Grab his left hand,” Pavo told the remaining crewman. “Cut off his thumb.”

  “Not the finger?”

  “It will be useless without a thumb. Let him live with that.”

  “No,” the man against the wall wailed.

  “How did you find out this is where we were going?”

  “I . . . I didn’t.”

  “You’re here. Ahead of us. You didn’t follow.” Pavo’s eyes seemed small, cold, like stones. A predator focused on prey. “I want to know how you knew I would be here.”

  “I didn’t know! I swear by the gods.”

  “Try some fingers from his other hand,” Pavo told his men.

  “Stop.” The quietness of Vitas’s command spoke far more forcefully than any other inflection could have.

  Pavo whirled on Vitas. “You have answers?”

  “Just this. If the man knew this was your destination, don’t you think he would have been far more cautious?”

  Pavo looked back at the fearful man.

  “To me,” Vitas continued, “he seemed as surprised to see you as you were to see him.”

  The tall, thin man nodded frantically.

  “Why are you here?” Vitas asked him calmly.

  “I was sworn to secrecy.”

  “Take three fingers on his right hand,” Pavo snarled. “Match one hand to the other.”

  “Bully, maim, kill,” Vitas said. “Not much of an original thinker, are you?”

  Pavo pushed his face within inches of Vitas’s.

  Vitas was very aware that his hands were tied behind his back. “Why don’t you ask him who swore him to secrecy?” Vitas said. “Ask him when? Give the man a chance to speak.”

  Without taking his eyes off Vitas, Pavo said, “Who swore you to secrecy? When?”

  No answer.

  “Now you understand,” Pavo told Vitas, “why I prefer to bully and maim and kill when necessary.”

  Without taking his eyes from Pavo, Vitas spoke to the frightened crewman. “I admire a man who holds to a vow. What can you tell us without breaking that vow?”

  “Just before we set sail from Rome, a man approached me while I was standing near the ship. He said if I went to a certain household in Alexandria one day after the ship arrived, I would be paid handsomely to deliver a letter.”

  “You were to wait a day?”

  “I didn’t see the harm in coming immediately,” the man said. “I wanted money to enjoy women tonight.” He spat out bitter words. “Not only was there no money, but now this.”

  “I suspect,” Vitas said mildly, “this is exactly why you were told to wait a day. Were you given a password?”

  The crew member’s eyes widened in realization. “‘These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.’”

  “See?” Vitas said. “You were meant to find me. I assume you also stopped at Issachar’s mansion, only to be told he didn’t live there anymore.”

  The man nodded.

  “Do you still have the letter?” Vitas asked. “Or did you leave it up there?”

  “I wasn’t given any money.”

  “So you still have the letter.”

  “I was told you would pay me ten thousand sesterces.”

  “You’re a poor liar,” Vitas said.

  “Two thousand then,” the man mumbled.

  “I’ll see you’re paid. You have the letter?”

  “Not so fast,” Pavo said. “I want to read it.”

  “You’ve gone to great effort to obey those who put me on your ship,” Vitas said. “Do you really want to cross them now?”

  “So who’s a bully using the threat of violence?”

  “I can’t disagree,” Vitas said, smiling.

  “Give me the letter,” Pavo said. To Vitas, he returned the smile, but without sincerity. “If it tells me something about the men behind this, it’s worth far more than two thousand sesterces.”

  With knives jabbed at his throat, the crew member reached into his tunic and pulled out a sealed scroll.

  Pavo examined the seal, shrugged, and broke through the wax. He unrolled the letter and, after reading it, frowned.

  “You are welcome to this nonsense,” Pavo said. He dropped the letter on the dirt in front of Vitas. “The sooner I’m rid of you, the better.”

  To his three men, Pavo said, “Let him go.”

  Vitas could not reach to get the letter. He hoped Pavo would untie him soon.

  To the crew member, Pavo said, “I don’t want a man like you on my ship. Run, and consider your freedom from me as the wages you are owed.”

  “Shouldn’t you ask him who he was supposed to find in the apartment?” Vitas asked.

  “Obviously the same person I’m supposed to deliver you to,” Pavo snapped.

  “Did you give him the same password you gave me?” Vitas asked the crew member.

  “I couldn’t. He’s been sold into slavery.”

  “No,” Pavo groaned. “He’s not up there?”

  “Only his wife and three young childre
n.”

  “I hate all of this,” Pavo said. “I really, really hate it.”

  Hora Decima

  “I don’t understand this. You’re going to leave a strange man in my household?”

  This question came from Jael. She was a Jewish woman, short and round with long dark hair. She held a sleeping baby to her chest, and her tone of incredulity showed that she was remarkably unafraid, considering that five large men had walked into her tiny apartment without an invitation.

  “I want to be rid of him,” Pavo said. “I’ve been instructed by people in Rome to deliver him to your husband.”

  She asked the obvious question. “Why?”

  Pavo shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Rome.” To her, Rome must have been on the other side of the world. “You have the wrong family. We don’t know anybody in Rome. And we certainly don’t know him.”

  Aside from the baby she cradled, small twin girls clung to her legs, peeking from behind the woman with obvious fear. Vitas was no expert on children. It seemed to him that they were barely old enough to talk—but they had been mute since he entered.

  “Is your husband a silversmith?”

  Jael nodded.

  “Then this is the right family. That’s all I care. If anyone ever comes to you and asks if I delivered a Roman to you in good health, you can answer that I did.”

  “You can’t just leave a man with me and my children. It’s beyond comprehension.”

  “Good-bye,” Pavo said. “I’m rid of him.”

  Pavo nodded at his three crewmen, and the four of them swept out as quickly as they’d barged into the woman’s apartment.

  Jael looked at Vitas with bewilderment.

  “I’ve been delivered,” Vitas said. “Now, if you would be kind enough to untie my hands, I’ll leave immediately.”

  “Just like that.” Her voice was now tinged with anger.

  “The sooner I am away from you, the sooner you can forget this.”