Man of God

by Diaz, Debra

  “Flavius, stop rattling about,” came a querulous voice. “How do you expect me to sleep a wink?”

  His bodyguard unbuckled his sword and laid it aside. Since Caligula couldn’t see him, he sat down in a chair, and his gaze kept going back to his sword. He was one of the few permitted to carry a sword inside the palace—most of the guards carried javelins. It was an old rule—but rules were changing.

  Again he wondered what he would do, if there was ever an attempt by others to put the emperor out of his misery.

  * * *

  “Can you help me? I am looking for someone.” Livias spoke in a warm, candid manner to the young woman, who was demurely dressed in a forest green gown, her palla draped over her head and shoulders. She held a basket of fruit and a wriggling white puppy in her arms, and stopped walking to glance at him warily. His forehead, almost bare of eyebrows, lifted in surprise.

  “Daphne! I’d forgotten—you live near here, don’t you?”

  They were on a street at the eastern end of the forum, not far from the Circus Maximus. Steam rose from the pavement after the recent thunderstorm, and with it strong and unpleasant odors.

  “I don’t think I know you,” she said, and began walking again.

  He strode alongside her. “Oh, you know me very well. But it’s been a year or so, since we…saw each other.”

  She ignored him. Livias stared and wondered how he had recognized her, because she looked quite different. There were no cosmetics on her face, and it was softer somehow…

  “If you will only answer a few questions I will stop following you,” he said, when it became obvious she wanted nothing to do with him. “Have you seen a man who looks like this?”

  He withdrew the sketch of Paulus from the breast of his tunic and held it out for her to see. Her gaze flitted toward it curiously, and then fixed on the sheet of parchment. Livias knew at once that she had seen the man before. She seemed to realize she had made a mistake in her reaction, and her eyes moved and focused on the street before them.

  “What is his name?” she asked indifferently.

  “Paulus Valerius.”

  “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  “You know a lot of men—whose names you don’t know.”

  She stopped and looked at him earnestly. “I am no longer in that profession. Will you please leave me in peace?”

  “Oh! What brought this about? You are one of the most sought—”

  “What has the man done? Why do you seek him?”

  Livias eyed her shrewdly. She might not willingly betray the man, but what about the woman?

  “I seek him mainly because of his wife, a runaway slave who killed a man.”

  This time Daphne’s shock was obvious. Livias grabbed her arm none too gently and said, “Where are they?”

  “How should I know? I admit I’ve seen the man before, but I didn’t know his name or…or any of what you just said. I don’t believe it!”

  “Where have you seen him? Is he a client of yours?”

  “No!”

  “Where then?”

  “I’ve only seen him a few times, and I don’t know where they are now. They could be anywhere.”

  He tightened his hold on her arm and she shrank away from him. “Where does he live?”

  “How would I know that? I have nothing to tell you.”

  Livias felt a surge of both frustration and triumph. She did have something to tell him, and he would see to it that she did. But he didn’t want to frighten her away…let her go home and think herself well rid of him. He would send Petronius and his men to her house, which he knew well, as soon as he could get word to him. And he’d have her watched in the meantime, by one of his own “helpers”.

  His silver hair and dark eyes gleamed in the sunlight. Daphne seemed to repress a shudder as she stared at him. “Very well,” he said smoothly, releasing her arm. He realized for the first time the puppy was growling and yapping at him, and he smiled. “That’s a nice little dog. Where did you get him?”

  “Her. At a marketplace, outside of Rome.”

  “If you see this man again…you know where to find me. I will make it worth your trouble.”

  “I don’t think I want to have anything to do with you, Livias.”

  “I’m disappointed,” he said, still smiling. “About many things. But go your way, Daphne. I am sorry if I spoiled your day.”

  She didn’t reply. He watched with narrowed eyes as she hurried along the street, with the puppy trying to climb over her shoulder, still barking at him.

  * * *

  When he broached the subject to Susanna, his wife was adamant that they should go and see Paulus and Alysia as soon as possible. Flavius felt ashamed that he’d even considered not going…and on the day of the week they were not required at the palace, they hired a small coach and rode out to Horatius’ villa. They arrived precisely at the supper hour, and the slaves ushered them to the courtyard where “Antonius” and his family were enjoying the evening meal. Paulus rose to greet them, pleased that they’d come, and Flavius and his wife gratefully sat down to dine.

  It was a perfect late afternoon, with the air having cooled after the showers in recent days. The sun hung low in the west, and torches had already been lit around the long stone table and padded chairs. Servants hurriedly brought extra food and disappeared.

  “It’s so good to see you again, Susanna,” Alysia said, smiling…touched at the thoughtfulness of their visit. “But I hope nothing is wrong?”

  Susanna was short of stature and plump, with a round, pretty face. “Nothing is wrong—yet,” she answered, glancing with a smile of her own at Rachel. “And how are you, darling? Are you enjoying your time here? It’s so lovely!”

  “Yes, we’ve been doing all sorts of things. Father has taught me how to ride a horse, and catch fish, and yesterday he taught me to swim! And Daphne was here until a few days ago. She bought a puppy at the market.”

  “Oh, so you’ve seen Daphne? I’ve been worried about her.”

  “Before she left,” Alysia answered, “she accepted the Lord.”

  Susanna put a hand to her rosy cheek. “How happy that makes me! There is something about her that touches one’s heart…But Paulus—oh, I must call you ‘Antonius’, mustn’t I—whatever do you mean teaching this child how to ride a horse? She is a girl, after all, and it’s so dangerous!”

  Flavius grinned at Paulus and laid his hand indulgently on his wife’s arm. “It’s not dangerous, if you know what you’re doing…and I’m certain Antonius is an excellent instructor.”

  “We’ll have a room prepared for you…how long can you stay?” Alysia asked.

  “Oh, we must leave tonight,” Susanna replied. “We must be back at our posts tomorrow. But thank you…otherwise we would be very glad to stay.”

  Alysia glanced at Paulus and he was looking at her; something was wrong. It had grown dark and the lights flared around them. The slaves brought out desserts and a light wine. After more casual conversation, Alysia rose briefly to take Rachel to her room, and when she returned Susanna touched her hand with an air of apology.

  “I hope we haven’t alarmed you. But there is something we thought you should know.”

  In a low voice Flavius told them of Caligula’s plans…and threats. “And he means what he says—he is highly offended by Jesus’ claim to divinity.”

  “We all know that Caligula is mad,” Paulus said soberly, “but with or without him, persecution will come. It may be gradual, it may be sudden, but it will come. Jesus said we would be hated, for his sake. It’s already happened in Jerusalem…it’s been going on there since the resurrection. I was hoping, though, for more time, until we were more in number, and stronger in faith.”

  Flavius glanced around to make sure no one was within hearing distance. “Caligula may not survive another year—I’ve heard things, there’s a sense of something—brewing. Then I wonder what stance his successor will take.”

  “Who do
you think will succeed him?” Alysia asked.

  Flavius shrugged. “He has no children, except for the little girl.”

  “A monstrous child,” Susanna said. “I’ve never seen a child I couldn’t love, except for her…may God forgive me. She can’t play with other children—she claws and bites them, and has no respect for anyone. His nephew is too young, only three or four, scarcely older than the daughter. And almost as bad. At least he obeys his mother.” Susanna glanced at her husband. “There’s Claudius. But everybody thinks he’s a fool.”

  “He’s far from being a fool,” Paulus answered. “And considering the choices, or lack of, I wouldn’t mind seeing him succeed Gaius. He might do well, if he’s let alone.”

  “He has always spoken well of you…Antonius. I think he regrets Caligula’s determination to find you.”

  “Thank you for telling me, Flavius. I admit I haven’t been able to understand Caligula’s interest, either in me or in finding Alysia, after all this time.”

  “You are one of his obsessions. He doesn’t know you are a believer, so it isn’t that.”

  “Obsessions?” Alysia asked, with a quizzical look.

  “Women. Gambling on horses. Then for a while it was gladiators.” Flavius gave a self-deprecating smile. “And actors—one in particular. I think he sees your husband as something of a heroic figure, god-like perhaps. Caligula was present when he saved Tiberius. He saw him in command of his legion.” He glanced at Paulus. “You are, in certain ways, like his father. Possibly he wants to make you prefect of the Guard.”

  “A position I’ve turned down before and wouldn’t hesitate to do so again,” Paulus remarked. “Although Caligula probably wouldn’t take it as well as Tiberius did.”

  “No doubt,” Flavius said drolly. “As to why he wants to avenge the death of Eustacius after all this time, I don’t know. Not after all that’s happened since then, in Tiberius’ reign and his own. I suppose he sees it as a matter of upholding the law. One can’t say justice, because he doesn’t know the meaning of the word. And he only seeks to enforce laws when it is advantageous for him. He still sees you as an escaped slave, Alysia. Maybe he wants to make an example of you.”

  Susanna reached out to touch one of Paulus’ hands and one of Alysia’s. “Try not to worry…but take care, both of you. Flavius, there is no need for you to frighten her half to death. And it is growing late.”

  “I know, my dear wife, and you must rise very early to care for that poor, misbegotten—”

  “Oh, we shouldn’t say such things, and I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” Susanna seemed remorseful. “She’s just a child. I try to show love toward her, since I can’t feel it!”

  “She is exactly like her father,” Flavius answered. “And enough said about that. I’m sorry, but it is a long way. We must go—we’ll sleep in the carriage on the way.”

  “You didn’t frighten me, Flavius, but we appreciate the warning,” Alysia said, as they all stood up. “We’re so glad you came.” She linked her arm through her husband’s. “Please be in prayer for Paulus. He is going to speak in the marketplace tomorrow—a discussion with the philosophers.”

  “Of course we will,” said Susanna with interest. “And we have delayed you…you probably wanted to spend the evening in prayer yourselves.”

  “There is time, and like my wife I’m very glad you came,” Paulus said. “May God be with you both.”

  “And with you,” Flavius said, clasping his arm. “But I’m surprised…a public debate, so close to Rome?”

  “An opportunity that God provided in an unusual way, Flavius. What choice do I have but to trust him?”

  “Someday,” said his friend, “I hope to trust him as much as you do.”

  CHAPTER XIV

  It had been a long time since Paulus had engaged in rhetoric, aside from the casual speaking form he employed when teaching. He had, of course, studied it as a youth…it was required of all young Roman men and was considered an indispensable skill. As city prefect, he had given his fair share of speeches, and hated it. Strange that he didn’t mind it when he was in the army and speaking to his legion…it seemed a completely different thing, somehow.

  He wasn’t quite sure what to expect today. At least the sky was clear, and there was a cool breeze. He easily walked the two miles to the marketplace and headed toward the grove of trees at the far end. He wore a plain, belted tunic—and no cloak. He had certainly been seen well enough the last time he was here, and it wouldn’t be to anyone’s advantage for him to stand and attempt to speak, half-concealed.

  The same men were there, and more…standing, or sitting in wicker chairs or on the tops of wooden crates, and some even sat in the kind of camping chairs used by the army. There were a number of other men, and a few women, sitting on the grass nearby, who were apparently intent on listening.

  An older man, with gray hair and a beard, rose when he saw Paulus approaching. The others stood for a moment and then resumed their seats; Paulus saw that there was a small wooden platform in front of them that they obviously expected him to stand upon. He took his place there and the older man said hospitably, “Thank you for coming—what is your name, sir?”

  “I am called Antonius. I am a visitor, and will not be long in this region. My thanks to all of you for allowing me to speak here today.”

  “We are honored to have you as our guest, Antonius. My name is Alexandros. This is Sophus, Timaeus, Isidoris, Philo…” He continued to call others by name, and they nodded, eyeing him thoughtfully. “And here is the man you healed, Nikanor, and his esteemed father. We are all very interested to hear how you did so.”

  Paulus took a breath and thought for a moment. “Before I begin, I would like to ask Nikanor, and his father, what their beliefs are, in regard to philosophy and religion.”

  The young man’s father shrugged. “Like many men, we merely seek wisdom, and truth.”

  “What,” Paulus asked, “is truth?”

  After a short pause, the father replied, “It is based on what one has learned in life, through experience, and revelation. It may not be the same for you as it is for me, or my son.”

  “Doesn’t the word, truth, by its definition, imply there is only one?”

  “There is one truth, for each individual.”

  “And you, Nikanor—what do you believe? What do you think happened to you?”

  The young man shifted in his chair. His face was still gaunt, his eyes shadowed. “Like my father, I sought wisdom. And the oracles say to—know yourself. I meditated often, and began to have dreams. A man came to me in these dreams—he was wise, and kind. I was not afraid. He brought peace to my mind, at first.”

  Paulus asked, “What did this man tell you?”

  “That in order to be wise, I must accept everything without judgment. I must have no feeling about anything. This frees me to choose my own path, my own boundaries. To find my own truth.”

  “Do you still believe this?”

  Nikanor gave a shrug like his father’s. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Then you are in great danger of the same affliction befalling you again,” Paulus said soberly. “This was not a man—it was an evil spirit, posing as a guide, or teacher. Do you recall the possession of your body?”

  “It is like a dream. But yes, I recall it.”

  “This was something beyond your ability to control, wasn’t it? Would you say it was an entity—something other than yourself, or your own thoughts?”

  Nikanor had a pained look on his face. “Yes. Something—other.”

  “Would you call it a force, and if so, a force for good, or evil?

  “A force, yes. Not good. But I don’t believe in evil.”

  Paulus stepped down from the platform, saying earnestly, “If it is not good, what is it? Did you have a sense that it cared for you? That it was concerned for your welfare, your life?”

  Nikanor avoided looking at anyone. He spoke in a strange, flat tone, as if he had suffered t
he loss of all hope in life. “The thing—it was more than a force. An entity, as you said. I felt that it wanted to destroy me. But before it took over me, the man I saw in my dreams told me I would be a god, that I was my own god, and I would be joined with the cosmos…to become one with it.”

  “If that happened, Nikanor, would you not cease to exist—as yourself?”

  “I—I don’t know,” came the barely audible response. “Once, I thought that would be a good thing.”

  Paulus walked around the group of men, and noticed that more people were joining them, sitting further away, but listening intently.

  “Tell me, sirs, what gods do you worship?”

  Philo answered at once, “I believe in the gods of Rome. They are the same as those of Greece, only with different names. How could this have happened, unless there is truth behind them?”

  Isidoris said, “I believe in Isis—from whom I took my name.”

  Another man said, “God is in all of nature! Look at the beauty and wonder of it!”

  “But do you worship that, or do you look for the one who created all things? You have asked about the man in whose name I cast out the evil spirit—Jesus Christ. He created the world, he has authority over every spirit, and even all of nature. He himself said that all authority in heaven and earth had been given to him.”

  Sophus almost got to his feet. “But we have not established that there is any such thing as evil, and so who is to say that the spirit within Nikanor was evil?”

  Paulus turned to him. “Whether you consider it evil or not, it obeyed the word of Jesus. Nikanor, you said that the man who visited you in your dreams brought you peace—at first. What happened?”

  Nikanor sighed and leaned backward. “A restlessness filled me. I had to sink deeper and deeper into my thoughts, to find peace. But, if I were honest with myself, I could no longer call it that. It was just—nothing. Emptiness.”