by Diaz, Debra
“Well,” Paulus said dryly, “I’m afraid there wouldn’t be many followers if that were a requirement.”
“A lot of people did that, at first,” Alysia said, passing around a bowl of grapes. “And they did it gladly, because they wanted to. But Jesus only asked people to be responsible for what they have…to be good stewards.”
“And to give to the poor,” Rachel added. “And take care of the widows and orphans.”
“But what about that man you spoke of one night, Antonius, who Jesus told to go and give everything he had to the poor?”
“That was a test,” Rachel said, “because the man was very proud.”
Daphne looked annoyed, and Rachel was sorry she had spoken. Her mother had taught her that children should remain silent in the presence of adults, to show their respect. But Rachel often forgot. She liked Daphne, but there was something about her…she didn’t quite know what to think. She wasn’t sure that Daphne really wanted to be a believer.
Her father smiled at her, and Rachel felt better. He said, “Now, what shall we do today? Who wants to ride horses? Rachel, I’m going to teach you to ride a horse and to catch fish, and to swim!”
“Those are boy things!” Rachel answered, but looked interested.
“Nonsense—I want to learn, too, Antonius!” cried Daphne. “Can you ride a horse, Alysia?”
Alysia shook her head. “No, thank you. I am content to walk.”
“Come with us anyway,” Paulus urged. “You can ride with me.”
“I’ll do anything but ride a horse.” She smiled, but her eyes met her husband’s with a secret sorrow. The wild ride on Asbolos was forever linked in her mind with the storm at sea, and the loss of their child.
He squeezed her hand. “As you wish,” he said softly, and stood up, still holding her hand. “But you don’t mind looking at them, do you? Horatius has some fine horses.”
“We used to have a horse,” Rachel said, again without thinking, and again she reproached herself. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to tell that.
“Really? What happened to it?” Daphne asked curiously.
They stood up and began to walk toward the stable. Immediately a slave came out of the house to take away their plates.
“He was lost,” Paulus replied. “In a city far from here.”
Daphne began pulling up the hem of her gown, causing her bracelets to jingle. “I should have changed clothes before coming out here.”
“It’s very clean,” Paulus said. They entered the dimness of the large, brown brick structure, where the horses were kept in the heat of the day; mornings and evenings were spent in the pasture. Air rushed through the front from the wide, wooden doorways at either end, having a freshening effect on the sometimes musty smell…and the scent of manure. The horses were secured in stalls, and a dozen or more friendly heads poked over the gates.
“They’re beautiful,” Alysia said, reaching out to stroke a broad forehead. “What are they?”
“Arabians,” Paulus answered. “Well known for their endurance. Notice their colors…that white and gray is a beauty…the black, the chestnut. Look, Rachel, there’s a dark gray like Asbolos.”
“He wasn’t an Arabian, was he, Father?”
“No, but a finer horse never lived. I miss him.”
“What do you suppose happened to him?” Daphne asked.
“Someone found him and took good care of him…I hope.”
Alysia watched as Daphne frolicked back and forth, petting the animals and laughing delightedly when she found a long row of foals. She seemed very young; even Rachel was more demure than she. Now and then Daphne would glance at Paulus, and there was nothing extraordinary or special about the glances; her gaze would go to Alysia next and flit away. Her lithe young body moved swiftly from stall to stall.
“I like the gray,” she announced. “That’s the one I want to ride.”
In spite of her deep compassion for Daphne, and her strong desire to see the young woman brought into the “kingdom” of God…Alysia realized she just didn’t trust her. She hated admitting it to herself, but she didn’t.
* * *
Several idyllic days passed. Paulus, as he had promised, taught Rachel and Daphne how to ride, and how to fish. However, he didn’t mention swimming again, for that would entail dealing with Daphne in some sort of scanty attire; he hadn’t counted on her being so eager to learn new things. Alysia watched them from the fence as they cantered about the pasture, both laughing and encouraging, and sat on the bank of the pond, in the shade of the many cypress and pine trees, while they fished. She did, occasionally, fish with them—but that had never been one of her favorite pursuits, either.
One day they had waded knee-high into the water; Daphne and Rachel had tucked the edges of their long tunics into belts at their waists. The horsehair fishing lines were attached to short rods weighted with stones and bronze hooks, onto which Paulus had impaled wriggling pink worms. Paulus was using a hand-net, and several bream and perch already lay twitching on the pond bank. Suddenly Daphne gave a shriek, and Alysia saw Paulus reach down and grab something and sling it over his head; the next thing she knew a large snake was flying through the air toward the opposite bank.
Afterward Daphne was very subdued and watched Paulus more than ever. It was, Alysia feared, becoming a serious situation. Paulus seemed unaware of the girl’s attention, which was unlike him because he was usually observant about everything. Alysia hesitated to broach the subject, knowing it would create suspicion and she really didn’t know Daphne’s intentions, or her heart.
Rachel seemed to be having a wonderful time, and Alysia ached for her because in spite of Paulus’ and her efforts, there had rarely been much that was normal or carefree in her daughter’s life. Besides all the other diversions, she could spend as much time as she liked on her sketching; she practiced with her bow and arrow, and she had even brought her lyre, at Alysia’s insistence…but had managed to avoid resorting to that particular occupation.
Evenings were spent in the prayer room, where Paulus, Alysia and Rachel read aloud from the Scriptures. Daphne listened and never offered to read, causing Alysia to wonder if she had ever learned to do so. They discussed what they read, and again Daphne listened but made no comments and asked no questions. Then they prayed before retiring for the night. Silently, Alysia lifted special petitions for Daphne’s salvation…and Paulus’ protection.
* * *
Megara read the note presented her by the mute slave, Tertius…dismissed him with a flick of her wrist and sat down abruptly in a thickly cushioned chair. He had scribbled his news on a piece of papyrus, the only way he had of communicating—for she couldn’t bear it when he made signs like an idiot and had forbidden him to do so. She’d always assumed his first master had cut out his tongue; she’d never asked, and didn’t really want to know.
Her gaze went slowly over the comfortable furnishings of her townhouse on the upper slopes of the Esquiline Hill—comfortable, but not luxurious. It was the best she could do, and how she hated being dependent on Paulus for it! She thought longingly of the beautiful house they had lived in, long ago; it was now occupied by his sister and her husband. The farm and villa Paulus had owned had been sold by his family a few years after his disappearance.
She looked at the note again, and couldn’t decide what to do. Usually she could make up her mind with lightning speed, and could stick to a decision with obsessive obstinacy, but this was…complicated. Tertius had heard that inquiries were being made about Paulus on the streets, and one man was even going around showing a sketch of him. She had known Caligula wanted to find him, but thought his interest had waned over the years.
Should she warn Paulus—her only source of money? Or should she turn him in to the authorities and expect to be richly rewarded?
Megara had actually considered going to Caligula and telling him the whole story…how she had faked her own death (she would say it was because she was so depressed over the state of he
r marriage), and how she had found Paulus in Rome…but something that woman had said gave her pause. The emperor might not like being tricked. He might not find the reality of his traipsing teary-eyed in a funeral procession behind a fake mummy as hilarious as she hoped he would.
Oh, but she was so tired of being alone, and of having no friends and no one to talk to except the wretched slaves—and she didn’t talk to them, actually, she just ordered them about and scolded them when they deserved it, which was often. She wanted to dye her hair red again, and go out in society and find another wealthy husband, since it would be obvious to all that Paulus Valerius had abandoned her. Once the prospect of being an abandoned wife had been odious to her—something that must be avoided at all costs. The years of virtual exile had changed her mind; in fact, perhaps she could use the “desertion” to her advantage.
But Caligula was so unpredictable. And he might not have forgotten that little thing she had let slip that made him think she supported Sejanus—that thing she herself couldn’t even remember. Perhaps she shouldn’t consider betraying Paulus to the authorities; he would probably tell Caligula all about her, and then she would be in as much trouble as he.
The next time she went for an installment of her living expenses she would just have to warn him that he was being sought much more aggressively than he had known. Or perhaps he did know it and still went about business as usual—trusting that his God would protect him! She still couldn’t get over that. Paulus was the last person in the world she would have thought could be taken in by such superstitious nonsense. But he had changed…drastically!
Megara rose and went to stand by the window, her statuesque figure outlined against the hazy, setting sun. The nightly clang and clatter on the streets below had already begun.
Why did it have to be so hot and noisy? She was beginning to hate Rome.
CHAPTER XI
The walk to the marketplace only took about half an hour. The tree-lined avenue to the villa branched toward a road surrounded by woods, and when they reached the bazaar everyone except Paulus was surprised by its size and many diversions. Because he had formerly owned a villa, he had visited such country markets before, but he had to admit this one was more impressive than any he had seen.
Farmers and merchants who didn’t wish to sell their goods in the odorous and overcrowded markets of Rome gathered here, and not only people from the country but a large influx of patrons from the nearby resort city of Tibur came to look over the fresh food and merchandise. Rows of tents and canopies stretched from one end to the other. Wooden structures had been set up as well, and the merchants sat behind tables or counters and loudly called out to everyone who passed by. There were games being played, dancers with their accompanying musicians, and even a group of acrobats performing, far to one side. On the opposite end, smoke billowed upward and the smell of roasting meat filled the air. It was early in the morning, and already a steady flow of patrons poured in from the connecting roads.
Daphne and Rachel had found a tent full of puppies from which they obviously wouldn’t be parted for some time, so Paulus and Alysia strolled on, with Paulus lightly clasping one of Alysia’s arms just above the elbow. He wore a rust-colored robe with a hood for partial concealment, and Alysia’s head covering extended past each side of her face.
He was very quiet, she thought, as they made their slow way through the crowded rows and aisles. His mood was light, though, and he seemed to have gotten over the discouragement he’d experienced when Camillus’ father died. For several days now Alysia had sensed a gathering strength in him, something she’d witnessed often over the years; there were times he prayed longer and immersed himself more deeply in reading the Scriptures, and always during those times strength and power emanated from him almost tangibly. She’d experienced those moments herself, but Paulus had surpassed her…and she was proud of him, proud of his faith and his ability to share it. She felt, somehow, that he was going to share it today.
* * *
He had been aware for some time that they were being followed. At first it was only the knowledge that a certain young man was keeping up with him, and Alysia, everywhere they went. Whenever they stopped to look at something the young man would stop, and Paulus…without seeming to…examined him closely and decided he’d never seen him before. There was something strange about him; he walked with an odd, shuffling gait, his black hair was long and uncombed, his bare arms showed ugly red scars where something had viciously cut him.
He followed them as they came to the far end of the market, where about a dozen men were sitting in chairs beneath the trees, having a heated discussion. As he listened briefly, Paulus could tell they were landowners and “amateur” philosophers who gathered here to air their views in public…today’s topic seemed to be whether or not women should be allowed to speak in the forums and markets. He thought it best to steer away from that conversation.
Before he could move, the young man behind them began to make a low, whining sound. Alysia noticed him for the first time and gave her husband a puzzled look. Immediately Paulus felt a sense of darkness, of something evil…almost the same feeling he got when he was around soothsayers and those who practiced divination and sorcery. He made a small gesture with his head, and he and Alysia turned and went in the opposite direction. They traversed the entire bazaar again, passing booths and tents of merchandise, vendors selling food, people playing board games, others throwing dice and playing games of chance. The man continued to follow them, and his whining grew louder until it gradually became a keening wail.
They were back to the group of men seated under the trees. The men had ceased talking, as had everyone within hearing distance of the wailing young man.
Paulus felt the spirit of God coming over him as never before. Deep within, a power burgeoned and grew; it filled, and began to overflow…as a vessel too full of water cannot hold it.
He turned abruptly and commanded, “Be silent!”
The young man cowered back. “What have we to do with you, man of God?” he cried. “Why have you come to threaten us?”
Paulus pushed back the hood of his robe; his eyes locked with those of the other man. “In the name of Jesus Christ, come out of him!”
A hideous scream rent the air, sending shudders through all who heard it. The young man convulsed and fell to the ground, where he lay completely motionless, his eyes closed. Alysia, and everyone else, stared at Paulus. A spate of murmuring erupted; one of the seated men rose and bent close to the unmoving form on the ground.
“He’s dead!” the man exclaimed. “You’ve killed him!”
Without answering, Paulus stepped forward, reached down and clasped the young man’s arm. He pulled upward, and at once the man opened his eyes and stood. He looked at Paulus with an expression of wonder; he lowered his head and without another word turned and walked away, his gait normal. The people around them continued to watch, awestruck, as though waiting for something else to happen. Having heard the commotion, others hurried toward the scene, Rachel and Daphne among them. Daphne had a puppy in her arms.
An elderly man called out, “Sir, would you be so good as to come here?”
Still in the grip of supernatural power, Paulus turned toward the men under the trees and waited for them to speak. The elderly man said, “That man is known to us—he has often come to this place. His despairing father, too, has come with him. Others have tried what you did, and failed. In fact, he beat one such man rather brutally and ran him off. But he’s never followed anyone about as he did you. Tell us, who is this Jesus Christ, in whose name you healed this man of his lunacy?”
“Sir, if I may have an audience, I could speak at great length about Jesus, who has the power to heal, to cast out demons, to bring the dead to life and to save the souls of men.”
Another of the seated men answered, “We have asked a man to speak to us today, but we will hear you out five days from now, at this time and place, if you are willing. But we must be allo
wed to have our say, as well.”
Paulus inclined his head. “I am more than willing. I will see you then.”
* * *
Observing the stares of those surrounding them, Paulus said in a low voice to Alysia, “We’d better go. When I come back, I come alone.”
Clouds had gathered overhead and it seemed a good time to make their departure. The four of them began to walk toward the road leading to the villa. They stopped briefly at one of the booths to eat a small meal, and were on their way again. By then Paulus had relaxed, Alysia noticed, and seemed more like himself.
“Isn’t anyone going to admire my new puppy?” Daphne asked, pretending to pout. “I’m naming her Tigris, because she keeps growling. They said she was bred on the island of Malta.”
Alysia looked at the ball of white fur with large black eyes; the little dog was panting and looked as though she were smiling, exhibiting a tiny pink tongue. “She’s adorable, Daphne…how old is she?”
“Eight weeks. She’s very playful…she doesn’t mean anything when she growls.”
“Mother, can’t we have a puppy?” Rachel asked wistfully.
“Not just yet, darling. Things are so unsettled now.”
Rachel looked disappointed but didn’t argue. Daphne walked along, feeding Tigris bits of cheese. They entered the road through the woods, where only a few people passed to and fro.
Daphne didn’t like silence. “Well, I didn’t get to see everything that happened, but I saw enough. Have you ever done that before, Antonius?”
Paulus shook his head. “No, Daphne.”
“Did you ever heal anyone? How did you know you could do it?”
Paulus sent a look of silent appeal to Alysia, who answered, “Let’s not speak of it, Daphne. One does such things by the spirit of God, and there is no explaining the how or why of it.”