by Diaz, Debra
Paulus had eventually convinced one of the captains (with the help of a few coins) to take them immediately downriver, saying that they were about to miss their ship and had been delayed by “unforeseen circumstances”. They reached the port without mishap and found a ship departing at once for Athens, but it was to make several stops along the coast and they would be able to disembark wherever they chose.
They moved to the front of the ship, so as not to be seen by anyone remaining on land. Alysia felt Paulus take her hand, and thus began the longest journey of her life…
* * *
The ship’s captain was young and much impressed with beauty, and on learning that Alysia was with child insisted that they use his quarters, while he made a station for himself on deck with the other passengers. It was a tiny cabin, with only a bed, a table and a chair, all attached to the wall. The storm began that night, eerily reminiscent of another storm she’d been through, long ago. It continued through the day, and didn’t abate that night but seemed to increase hourly in intensity, tossing the ship as if it were a child’s toy. The superstitious crew was terrified; the captain was forced to ask for Paulus’ help, and when he didn’t come back for hours she became so frightened her teeth were chattering. She could barely keep herself and Rachel from being buffeted about the room…all she could do was clutch the bedrails and hang onto her daughter.
Finally Paulus returned, drenched and exhausted. He ate some bread and salted meat, and drank nearly a full jug of water. He said, “The oars are useless now—we’re all bailing water. They’ve got the women in a room below, but you’re as safe in here as you would be down there. The crew is convinced the gods are angry. And I can hardly talk out there, much less tell them about the one who could really stop the storm…”
“Then why doesn’t he?” Alysia cried, overcome by fear and frustration. “I’ve been praying constantly, and I know you have, too!”
“I don’t know, Alysia, but he hears you. Keep on praying.”
He slept for a little while, so heavily he never knew that Alysia lay practically on top of him to keep him from being thrown off the bed. She had already wedged Rachel, along with several blankets, between the bed and the wall. Her daughter seemed to think it was an exciting adventure…of course she didn’t understand they could all go straight to the bottom of the sea. All too soon Paulus rose and went out again. A blast of wind and rain swept down the corridor and into the cabin before he could shut the door behind him.
Alysia lost track of time, and still the ship careened drunkenly in its cauldron. She became violently ill and was forced to cling to the chamber pot. She reached the point where she couldn’t pray any longer—she was sick in body, sick at heart. Still, the wind lashed, and the rain poured.
Finally she fell asleep, sitting beside the bed with her head on top of it. She woke to a strange sensation of stillness, and knew that the storm had passed. Or had it? She’d thought that last storm was over, too, but it had only been a lull…Why had Paulus not returned? Had he been swept overboard? She went stiffly to the door and opened it. There was no one in sight—maybe they’d all been swept overboard! She lit an oil lamp and lay back on the bed, tossing feverishly, and at last Paulus came, nearly stumbling with exhaustion. He stripped off his wet clothes and put on another tunic, then dropped next to her onto the bed. They all slept until the sun rose in the morning.
“Is it badly damaged?” she whispered, through a parched throat.
“Yes, but we’ll make it to the nearest port. We had to dump all the cargo…Alysia, you’re ill.” He sat up and looked at her. Rachel began to climb toward him, over her mother, and he reached out swiftly to pick her up.
Alysia didn’t answer, and flinched at a sudden cramping in her abdomen. Paulus hid his alarm and said, “Lie still. I met someone on deck before the storm—she can help you.” He left and came back in a short while with a stout, middle-aged woman, dressed in plain clothes with her gray hair pinned in a knot at the nape of her neck. “This is Tatiana. There aren’t any physicians on board—she’s a midwife.”
“Where is Rachel?”
“She’s with Tatiana’s daughter, eating a fine breakfast. At least the food survived, and they can still cook.” Paulus stopped and looked helplessly at the midwife as Alysia began to writhe on the bed.
Hours passed. The pains became worse than anything she’d ever experienced, even Rachel’s birth; it was more than she could live through…she didn’t want to live through it. She gripped Paulus’ hand and slipped down into darkness. She could hear them talking, as though they were in some other world.
“There is nothing I can do to stop this,” the woman said. “I have nothing here to give her for pain. We must invoke Ilithyia—goddess of childbirth. Only she can relieve this suffering.”
“We worship the one true God,” Paulus said harshly. “I will hear no pagan prayers in this room.”
This was the most awful and heart-wrenching scene he’d ever witnessed (save one, on a hilltop in Jerusalem)…as Alysia struggled to give birth to a child who could not live. The midwife worked patiently, deciding to ignore his rebuke, and sent him for fresh water. When he returned she held in her arms a tiny bundle wrapped in a blanket. Alysia lay still and her eyes were closed.
“Is she—”
“She will live, I think, but probably will not be able to have another child. I am sorry, sir. This is your son.”
Slowly he took the bundle in his arms and sat down beside his wife. After a long time he pulled back the blanket and gazed at the little perfectly-formed face and body…wrinkled and hairless, but so perfect. With the same slow movements he covered his son again, put his hand against his forehead, and wept.
When Alysia woke, she too looked at the child and held him. Her sobs broke his heart. “We must—give him a name, Paulus.”
He couldn’t seem to think at first, and then it came to him. “Let’s name him Stephen.”
Alysia nodded, unable to speak. She slept again, but in her sleep would not relinquish her hold upon their baby. She tossed restlessly, finally relaxing into stillness, and Paulus took the bundle once again.
“It will be days before we reach land,” he said to the midwife, his voice hoarse. “I’ll bury him at sea.”
Tatiana nodded, watching as he left the room.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever done. He and the captain had found a small crate that hadn’t been thrown overboard, emptied it of its contents, and placed the tightly wrapped body inside. He weighted it with some broken pottery he found. Now the captain stood with him; they watched as the little casket sank with an unsettling swiftness. Paulus was dismayed to feel a stab of resentment against God. Who was he to question God? Especially after witnessing what had been done to God’s own son…
“I thank you, Jesus Christ, Savior and Lord,” he said, very low. “Thank you for the life of my son, Stephen.”
The young captain heard him, and looked at him strangely. Then he put his hand on Paulus’ shoulder for a moment and walked away.
Alysia’s resentment went deeper than his own. The next day she was able to sit up and eat a little soup. Tatiana helped her as Paulus sat in the chair, holding Rachel. When the midwife left the cabin, she took Rachel with her.
“Paulus,” Alysia said weakly, “why has God done this to us? I thought he had forgiven us. I will never understand it!”
“He has forgiven us,” Paulus answered. “And we are not meant to understand everything. I, too, questioned him, Alysia, but to what avail? I don’t believe he caused this to happen, but he has allowed it, for whatever good he can bring out of it.”
“What do you mean—good? He is punishing me, I know it. I’ve been so afraid something would happen to my children. I was afraid in the storm. I didn’t trust him.”
Paulus knelt beside her, placing his hands with great gentleness on her shoulders. “I will have this out now, Alysia, before it takes root in your mind. Do you think God is so cruel as to say—Alys
ia did not trust me to protect her family, so I will take the life of her child? Is this the God you know? Is this the Christ you know, who saved your soul, and returned your life to you, and sent an angel to rescue our daughter?”
“He took the life of David’s child—David and Bathsheba! How are they so different from us?”
“David committed murder to cover his sin. There were consequences—but God did forgive him.” He leaned closer. “Remember what David said, after his son died? He cannot come back to me, but someday I will go to him. Our son is with God, Alysia.”
“I’m afraid,” she whispered, after a moment. “I’m afraid this is going to change me, Paulus, and make me bitter. Please pray for me.”
He lifted her toward him and held her close. She turned her head so that her wet cheek pressed against his. “We’ll pray for each other,” he said.
* * *
Two days later he stood at the rail, watching as land drew nearer. They didn’t know where they were, exactly, but it was land. The wind blew back his hair; the sun bore down on his face and bare arms. There was a deep sadness in him, not only for the loss of his child, but because the world could change so suddenly and so completely that it was no longer the same world, and would never be the same.
“Be of good cheer,” Jesus had said, “for I have overcome the world”…
He heard someone approaching behind him, and turned to see Tatiana. He nodded at her, making a gesture for her to join him.
“My daughter is visiting your wife,” she said. “She has enjoyed taking care of Rachel.”
“Alysia might have died without you, Tatiana. I don’t know how to thank you. And I’ve wanted to say I’m sorry for speaking to you as I did—that day. I may have meant it, but there’s seldom any justification for rudeness.”
The woman looked out over the sparkling water. “I almost didn’t make this voyage, you know. There was a ship sailing straight to Crete, where we live. But my daughter became suddenly ill and we were delayed. Her illness went away just as quickly, but we missed the first ship, and decided to take this one.”
“Perhaps that was for a reason,” Paulus ventured, looking into her eyes.
Tatiana smiled at him. “Tell me,” she said, “about this one, true God.”
CHAPTER V
Camillus, his wife and four children lived on the Caelian Hill, in a mansion even more lavish than the one in which Alysia had been a slave, years before. The white marble floors and pillars in the atrium were streaked with crimson; matching crimson curtains hung from the glass windows; paintings on the walls depicted the heroes and heroines of Greek myths. Feather-stuffed couches with silver feet and fine mahogany chairs filled the center of the atrium, and beyond these furnishings the walls were lined with statues and wooden chests with reliefs in gold and silver, and tall, elaborate lampstands.
Camillus’ wife, Lucia, was a few years older than Alysia, with thick dark hair and dark eyes that looked bleakly out of her pale face. The two women sat together on one of the soft couches.
“Two months,” Lucia whispered. “I had him for two months, and the Lord has taken him away! Why, Alysia? How have you borne it?”
“For a long time, I couldn’t,” Alysia answered, letting her mind go to that place she had closed off long ago. “Until I remembered something I already knew, and had forgotten…the words of Isaiah, the prophet. ‘Surely he has borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows’. Those words are about Jesus. He would carry me though it, if I would let him. But somehow I wanted to hang onto my grief, Lucia. I was angry. Angry with God, angry with everyone, because they didn’t behave as I wanted them to. I wanted everyone to suffer as I was suffering. But the people who knew, the ones we told, went on as if nothing had happened, as if it were just a moment in time that hadn’t really meant anything.”
“Even your husband?”
Alysia shook her head. “No. He knew. But even he couldn’t completely understand how I felt.”
“Camillus has no idea,” the woman said bitterly. “He is a brute. You see how he’s been receiving his clients all morning! I used to think I hated him, Alysia, before we became believers. I’ve been trying to love him, and now—this—”.
“But he does care,” Alysia said quickly, putting her hand over Lucia’s. “He sought out my husband yesterday, to ask for his help. He is most concerned about you.”
Lucia didn’t answer, looking down at the floor.
“I began to realize how I was hurting my family,” Alysia went on quietly. “They couldn’t—move forward, because I couldn’t. And so finally I was able to ask God to forgive me. It was selfishness, Lucia, pure and simple—even though the pain was very real. There is a grief that is too deep for words, and when I sincerely prayed about it, I felt the spirit of God absorbing it, and grieving with me, but giving me peace as well.”
Lucia’s eyes filled with tears. “How can I do that, Alysia?”
“I can’t tell you that, Lucia. It is a journey that you must make on your own, and find your own way. But if you ask him to help you, he will.”
The other woman gave a deep, shuddering sigh. Alysia covered both of Lucia’s hands with her own. “You are so new in the faith, Lucia. I don’t know why God has allowed such a severe testing of it, but he is here for you.”
“My heart knows that what you say is true, Alysia—just as I knew the truth about Jesus when I heard you and your husband speak of him. But I don’t want to be comforted right now. All I want is my son back!”
* * *
Petronius took out a bag of coins and set it on the table. Though he wasn’t tall, his thickset body made him feel positively huge next to the man who sat across from him. Livias was small and wiry, with a long narrow head and tapering, smooth-shaven arms. Streaks of black laced through his silver hair. His brown eyes were spaced widely apart over his broad nose and he strongly resembled a ferret. He was, in fact, an excellent hunter…of men, not rabbits.
Livias glanced around the dimly lit tavern and took a long drink of the imported Egyptian beer. “Who is it this time?”
Petronius, too, looked around, and answered in a low voice, “Paulus Valerius Maximus. Do you know of him?”
Livias was adept at hiding his feelings, especially surprise. “He is in Rome?”
“He’s been seen twice.”
“Who wants him, and why?”
“The emperor. He left his position years ago and obviously has been in hiding. According to some of the soldiers who saw him last, at the Antonia in Jerusalem, he is with the woman who killed Magnus Eustacius. Caligula wants them both arrested.”
“Valerius is a great name in Rome,” Livias said thoughtfully. “Paulus Valerius was well-loved by his legion…and admired by the Senate. He probably only disappeared to protect this woman. The emperor is taking a risk if he seeks to put Valerius to death.”
“Bah,” said Petronius disgustedly. “Caligula doesn’t care about the Senate. And he thinks the army loves him!”
Livias grinned. Petronius expected to see a line of sharp, feral teeth, but the other man was actually missing several. Livias didn’t smile much.
“I see you have no love for Caligula. I wonder that he let you go without shaving the back of your head, Petronius.”
The soldier’s brows drew together…he saw nothing humorous in the remark. He was, after all, rather vain about his thick, curly black hair. Caligula, suffering from thinning and receding hair, often took his revenge upon men more blessed than he by ordering a razor to be run down the middle of their cranium.
“We are not here to discuss the foibles of the emperor, Livias. I will tell you where Valerius was last seen, but that is all I know. Are you familiar with his appearance?”
“Oh, yes. I saw him many times when he lived here before.” Livias gestured toward the bag of coins. “How much more, if I find him, and his wife? They may not necessarily be together, you know.”
“I’ll double it.”
Livias took another
slow drink. “That’s quite a few months of wages—for you. Or is Caligula offering a reward?”
Petronius shook his head. “No reward.”
“Then why pay me …why not search for him yourself?”
“I will be searching, but I need help,” Petronius said shortly. “And you are very good at what you do.” He didn’t feel the need to add that his life was probably at stake, since he had vowed that he would find Paulus Valerius before the end of August. Why he had made such a rash statement he didn’t know. Yes, he did…he was trying to divert Caligula from the fact that Valerius had escaped under the very noses of his guards…even though they hadn’t known they were supposed to arrest him!
“So, Livias, I may depend on you, then? Of course, if you find him the credit will go to me.”
Livias shrugged. “I have no wish to be thanked by the emperor or, gods forbid, even noticed by him. Unless he changes his mind about a reward.”
“I’m sure you will hear of it if he does.”
When Petronius had gone, Livias sat for a while finishing his beer, and thinking. Where would he start looking for Paulus Valerius and the woman? The guards said he had headed northeast after passing through the gate. He could have been trying to throw them off track, but more likely his first concern was to get the woman and child, his child no doubt, to a place of safety, and he would have headed for the part of town he was more familiar with. Although…the former legate and prefect of the city probably knew Rome better than anyone!
It was possible Valerius was living here now, especially since he’d been seen in Rome twice recently. The city was as good a place as anywhere else in the Empire to hide, considering its huge populace. The army could not be trusted to find him, unless Caligula offered a hefty reward. Valerius’ own men had respected him, and many of them probably wouldn’t report it even if they did see him. Even the Praetorian Guard (that elite unit of the army that thought entirely too much of itself!) would hesitate to turn Valerius over to Caligula.