by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
Cackles and laughter echoed off the walls and fell on the ears of the prison population, along with occasional smacking sounds, followed by “Not hungry! Not hungry now.” This was too much for many of the prisoners. Not only were most very superstitious, they believed the jailer had brought a demon here to play sport with them.
An uproar grew among the inmates. Many began crying out to their gods in fear and invoking them for protection. Some called down evil on the commandant, crying out curses that his soul burn forever in torment for bringing this abomination against them.
In frustration, the commandant shouted to the prisoners to quiet down, telling them there was naught for them to worry about except his wrath. Finally, forgetting his fear, he turned toward the creature and angrily threatened, “Shut up your face! I can’t have a riot in here. If you don’t quiet down, I’ll… I’ll…” The commandant began to ponder what might become of him if the creature felt itself in danger.
The creature lowered its voice. “Yeesssss?” It suspiciously asked.
The commandant swallowed. “I’ll… I’ll say his name.”
The stinky little creature froze, put its hand up to the opened hood and cried, “Sh! Sh! Not talk, not talk now. Not loud, must be still.” It crouched, putting both its hands up like rodent paws. “Must be like a mouse… er… er… Will be like a little mouse... a quiet little mouse.”
Having gained some confidence, the commandant spoke up boldly, wagging his finger. “When we get there, I don’t want no loud words, neither. Nobody’s to hear what you say. Nobody!”
The little creature could not understand. It asked, troubled, “Nobody?” “Nobody?!”
Somewhat exasperated, the commandant explained. “Only the man you go see. That fool Ce…”
The little creature flung its arms about. “Sh! Sh! Not his name! You promised if little child was good. You promised!”
“All right! All right!” The commandant fumed. “You know what I mean, right?”
The little creature laughed. “Yes! Yes! Only to foolish man…” It threw its hand up in front of its hood. “Sh… Sh… Will be quiet like a mouse… Pretty boys… good… nice boys will not hear little child. Noooo… not hear little child at all.”
“Good!” The commandant snorted, and then threatened, “And keep it that way, or the guard will stick you with a spear!”
Both men heard a little hiss escape the hood, followed by, “Like a mouse, a little baby mouse. Good child will be quiet, like a mouse.”
On the bottom-most level of the prison, at the end of a musty, putrid smelling passage, the three came to a large iron door. The only light was from the guard’s lamp, which appeared to gasp for air enough to remain burning. The commandant took out a large key and slowly turned the rusty lock, its tumblers squealing in contempt at the intruders, finally giving way with a loud crack! It took the combined efforts of both the guard and commandant to force the heavy iron door on its hinges.
Finally, with audible grunts from the two men, the door gave way, allowing the guard to enter with his lamp. The light fell upon the single occupant in the room beyond. He sat, motionless, feet firmly secured in massive wooden stocks. The person covered his eyes with a hand, the light momentarily blinding him.
The little creature yipped with delight. “It’s him! It’s him! Master will be so happy with little child. It’s him!”
The commandant scolded, “Quiet now! You promised to be quiet.”
The creature’s hand popped up in front of its hood, nodding in acknowledgment. “Sh… Sh…”
The commandant leaned forward, into the room, calling out to the man, “Fancy that! You have a visitor, but I don’t think you’ll be much happy about it.”
He motioned for the creature to come forward. “It says its master has some words for you. Do be polite… and no screaming.”
Shaking a threatening finger at the creature, the commandant ordered, “Don’t hurt him. You promised. Or else…or else I’ll say his name!”
An angry hiss escaped from under the creature’s hood. It started, as if remembering to be good, then, as it shook its head, promised, “Not hurt him.” It extended a bony finger. “For you… for you.”
The creature turned away from the commandant and stared through the doorway. It began its happy little bobbing from side to side, humming some little nonsensical tune, followed by, “Like a mouse, a little tiny mouse.”
Satisfied, the commandant turned to go, ordering the guard to stand watch at the door. After he departed, the guard cautiously inched his way forward, until he stood just inside the room. Holding his lamp high, he motioned the creature to enter, “I’ll be watching!” his hollow words an impotent threat.
As it passed him, the creature snarled, its fingers brushing the man’s leg, the guard recoiling in near panic, stopping just short of crying out in fear. The creature swept its hand back in disgust and mumbled something under its breath, then focused its attention on the prisoner, smacking its lips and singing little chants.
Symeon sat on the stony floor, arms behind him, lending support. For six days his feet had been shackled in stocks, his food and drink scanty at best, and his cuts and bruises untended. Still, his sight was clear and his mind sharp. If this was some trick of the governor, he refused to fall for it.
When the noisy little creature was just feet away, he sarcastically asked, making sure the guard would hear, “So, what do you intend to do, eat me?”
The creature put its hand in front of its face, speaking in a hushed voice. “Sh… Sh… Must be quiet like a mouse. Symeon must be quiet like mouse.”
“What the?!” Symeon cried out.
The guard lifted his lamp and craned his neck. “Hey, there!”
“Sh! Sh!” The creature was urgent. “Must be quiet like mouse, like mouse.”
A dim, flickering glow reflected Symeon’s curiosity.
The creature stepped in close so that its opened hood was only inches from Symeon’s face. “Who do you think would waste their time coming to see the likes of you, especially when you can’t even remember to keep your promised appointments!”
Symeon’s eyes grew big with surprise as he whispered, “Is that you, Hanna?”
The creature pretended insult. “Who else have you stood up? Of course, it’s me! What did you think I was, some kind of demon?”
Symeon wrinkled up his nose, shaking his head. “You smell like one. Whew! And I thought I stunk.”
The man reached up and took Hanna’s hand, careful the guard didn’t see. Although happy to see his long-time friend, his concern for her welfare was reflected in his voice. “It’s too dangerous for you to be here. Why have you taken such a risk?”
“There are many reasons I have come -” Hanna started rummaging under her tattered robe. “to help you, inform you and to warn you.” She glanced up, catching Symeon’s eyes, hoping he didn’t see the pity in hers. “The world has changed outside. Clouds of violence against our people are growing everywhere. They seek to destroy our faith by forcing you to recant yours.”
With some noticeable effort, Hanna pulled out a leather-like flask from under the robe. “Here, drink this. It’s some herb soup.” She apologized. “Sorry, it’s cold, but it was the best I could do. And I’m sorry I stink so. I couldn’t think of any other way to get in to see you.”
She looked over her shoulder at the guard, still standing in the door, and growled. The guard quailed, but said nothing. Hanna went back to digging in her robe. “They are afraid of me. They think I’m some kind of witch or demon. It’s amazing what a little flour and stink can do.”
Symeon shook his head and sighed. “The poor, ignorant fools. I feel sorry for them at times. They’re so wrapped up in superstition about the gods, they fear every shadow and every wind.” He took another drink from the flask, grinning with satisfaction. “But it does
work out in our favor at times. It’s so good to see you.”
Hanna withdrew some dried figs and pressed fruit. “Here. Don’t eat these now. Later…save them for later.” She retrieved two small loaves of date bread and gave them to Symeon. “I have little time to tell you many things.” Symeon took another drink, thanking Hanna for her many gifts.
The woman gave Symeon a water bottle, telling him to save it also. Taking his hand, she began, “Tomorrow is a big festival day. The emperor’s magistrate is visiting. They intend to break you in the arena. Already, soldiers have arrested many of our elders. They plan to have them witness you recanting your faith.”
Symeon interrupted. “I trust my God, Hanna. He will provide help to me.” His voice was filled with confidence. “I am prepared to die this day.”
“It won’t be that easy, my friend.” Hanna warned. “They don’t intend to kill you.”
He argued. “Should they choose to torture me to make me confess and recant, I shall not give in. It will be a fool’s attempt on their part.”
Hanna countered that it was not so. “Now listen. Please! Two days ago, the governor’s personal guard came to your sister’s house. They took Ishtar away with them. When your sister complained, one of the soldiers cuffed her with the back of his hand, saying to stay put, because they were returning later for her. We believe they will use your niece to get at you.”
Symeon clenched Hanna’s arm. “They can’t be that cruel! Not even those animals can be that cruel!”
“Stop it, Symeon! You know full well the governor’s men have no souls. The demons pale in comparison to them.” Hanna took the empty flask and put it under her robe. “The guards were overheard talking about Ishtar being given to the dogs if you don’t give up your faith. Now do you see why I had to tell you? You cannot stop what will happen. But could you have withstood surprise and shock of seeing the one you call ‘daughter’ being dragged into the arena? And what would you say when given the choice to save her or keep your faith?”
Symeon bowed his head, tears in his eyes. “No…I don’t know...I don’t know if I can. She’s only a child. She has cared for me when my own sons despise me. I don’t know...” He groaned. “Your words cast doubt on my faith.”
“You have no choice but to keep your faith!” Hanna was adamant. “If you fail, the governor will send a wave of terror onto our people unlike anything we have yet seen. You are a leader among us. Paul has been sent to prison and may already be dead. There are few of the old ones left. Every day that passes, you become greater in the eyes of the people. You cannot fail! You will not fail!”
Hanna consoled Symeon, wiping away his tears and comforting him with supportive comments. Gradually the rush of emotion passed. Symeon eventually changed the subject. “What of you and your daughters, my dear Hanna? For sure, they will track you down. Can the storm of injustice pass you by? The entire city knows who you are.”
“Do not fear.” Hanna stroked Symeon’s hand. “I have sold our home. After tomorrow, we are leaving Ephesus. I doubt we shall ever return. My late husband’s uncle, Gallen, has come down from the North Country. He is with my two youngest daughters outside the city as we speak. My oldest daughter, Leah, and her husband, Midian, departed Capernaum some time ago and arrived during the past week. They helped me get my things together and are going with us. Gallen suggested we travel beyond Bithynia, cross the straits near the Sea of Marmara, and continue on north with him to the frontier.”
Symeon felt uneasy about the news. “I have been told many stories of the Barbarians on the frontier. Are you sure it is wise to go that far?”
“Symeon, Gallen’s grandfather was one of those Barbarians. My daughters have cousins residing among them.” Hanna explained, “Look, the frontier is dangerous to the legions because they are so heartless and cruel. They rape and plunder for fun and profit. Most of the captives brought here as slaves or sold to the arenas are innocents kidnapped from their homes. Many of the atrocities are committed against the peaceful border towns or even within the territory itself. It is little wonder the north people seek revenge when opportunity affords.”
She gently squeezed his hand. “As a wedding present, James gave his son some of his own father’s carpentry tools. Midian is a skilled carpenter, too, just like his father and grandfather, and the north people will pleasantly accept his craft. Leah is almost three months’ pregnant. If we do not leave now, she will not be able to come with us. Gallen has relatives living in Thrace. We will be able to winter there and then move on in the spring.”
Thinking of his old friend, Symeon asked, “How is James?”
Hanna lowered her head. “His health is bad, Symeon. Leah wonders if he will survive the winter. The death of his wife and mother in the same year took so much out of him. You remember how he adored them so.”
“Yes,” Symeon sighed, recalling. “I remember watching him, eyes all aglow, while his mother, Mary, described her early years, how the family had to flee from home, the strange visitors giving them all that money, even Anna’s prophecy regarding his oldest brother.” He waxed romantic. “And Alba’s eyes could hypnotize anyone, and her smile...”
Sadness grew in his voice. “When the fever took her, something inside James… inside all of us… died. He put himself into the work of building up the friends, but his health has continued to decline from that time on. I would so much love to see him once more.”
Hanna agreed. “If he had been better, James would have journeyed here with the children.” She went on to relate the current conditions of Symeon’s hometown. “It’s bad in Capernaum, real bad. The Zealots have overrun the countryside, forcing the people to join the resistance or be burned out, sometimes even murdered. I was told that the emperor is raising a large army with a new general to retake the territory. Most of the friends have left or are leaving. Those who have family elsewhere are traveling to join them.”
For but a moment, Hanna allowed her personal distress to slip into the conversation. “The world has turned upside down. What the future holds for us is anybody’s guess. I hope and pray that things will work out in the end.”
“They will, they will.” Symeon smiled, attempting to boost Hanna’s morale. “Look, this will all be over soon. Then you and I can be reunited. I have so many things to say to you.”
Hanna closed her eyes as tears fell. “May it be so. May it be so...”
Symeon squeezed the water bottle and patted Hanna’s arm. “What you have done tonight has built me up. With God’s help, I will not falter. Please be careful, and may our God protect you through the coming tribulations.”
“Hey in there!” The guard’s anxiety was growing. He had waited as long as he dared, fearing the demon creature’s wrath. But the time was late, and he knew the commandant would be growing impatient. He called out with timid bravado, “Come on, gotta get goin’. Time is up. You gotta leave.”
The little creature hissed. “It’s not done talking! A curse it is on them! No money for pretty boys if master becomes angry.”
The guard’s voice quivered in fear as he warned, “One minute, then. That’s all you can have.”
Symeon cautioned, “You better go. You got in here on your wits, but the door of escape is not yet opened to you. No need creating suspicion.” He took her hands in his. “Oh, how I do thank you for being here tonight, and for all the things you have told me!”
“Good bye, my dear friend.” Hanna worked to hold back tears. “Someday… I don’t know when…but someday we shall be together again. God bless.” She slipped her hands from his and slowly turned to leave.
The stinky little creature instantly returned. “Hee, hee. Sh… sh… like a mouse.” Then it quietly giggled some more and slowly waddled toward the door.
The guard raised his lamp to see about the prisoner. When the light revealed Symeon to still be alive and apparen
tly well, he let out a sigh. As the creature neared him, it raised its hand to its hood, “Good child! Good child! Not hurt bad man… promised… promised.” It looked at the spear and then up at the guard, angrily hissing as it passed.
Closing the door behind him, the guard followed the creature up the stairs and along the many hallways until reaching the commandant’s chambers. The commandant turned away from the brazier, his shadow falling across the little creature. He grinned while extending his hand. “We’ve done our part. Now give us what you’ve promised. Where is the money?”
The little creature hesitated, glancing around the room. A little hiss escaped from under the hood. “Master said it would cheat the others. He said the man with the bossy mouth would steal all the money for himself.” It cocked its head and asked. “Where are all the good boys I promised the money to? I see only one.”
The creature, pointing a finger at the commandant, threatened, “Master has the money! Your soul for the dammed if you should try to cheat the good boys. I will give you the money where master can see me give it, outside the gate!”
It then cooed in a nasty hiss. “Or shall you buy the way with your soul?”
The commandant was indignant. He raised his voice, shaking a fist as he declared his innocence. In the middle of his tirade, the creature coughed, spewing some dark liquid onto the floor. The commandant gasped and stepped back. The creature cackled with laughter…
“The blood of jackals at your feet is laid.
In the hand of the helmsman your soul is weighed.
A ransom of gold must now be made.
‘Ere the sun does rise, your debt must be paid.”
It pawed the air. “Come! Come with me and I shall show you the way to the boatman. He waits for you. Hurry! Hurry! I know him well. He will like you… hee hee… like you.”
The commandant put up a brave protest, swearing oaths and making threats, but his voice betrayed a growing fear. Finally the little creature, acting disappointed, shook its head and asked, “Doesn’t loud boy want to go with little child? Too bad... Too bad... Then must come and get money… good money.”
Without hesitation, the commandant called to the guard as he ushered the creature from the chamber. Up the last set of steps and into the cold of the foggy street, the commandant didn’t stop until they were all outside. The guard keeping watch there hurried over to the others. Now, breathing the fresh crisp air, a renewed boldness entered the commandant. He hailed the creature. “There now, we kept our end of the bargain. What of our money?”
“Money? Yes, yes, money.” It turned back to the three men and laughed. “Will get money for nice boys, good boys.”
“What do you mean get!?” The commandant cried, thinking more of the curse the little creature had pronounced on him. “Where is the money?”
Defensively, the creature replied, pointing into the darkness, “Over there, over there.”
“You’re lying!” Shouted the commandant, desperation growing in his voice.
The creature shook its head. “Not lie… no… no… not lie. Little child does not lie.” It bobbed up and down. “Master promised. Yes, yes he did.”
Looking into suspicious faces, it pleaded, “Come with nice child, good little child. Will get money.”
Finally, the commandant, nodding the guards to accompany him, followed the creature as far as the gate. The little creature began humming some strange tune as it passed through the opening in the fence. It turned back and beckoned, “Come, come with good little child, nice boys, good boys.” Reaching out for the arm of the first guard, it begged, “Please.”
The guard screamed in fright and jumped back. “I’ll stick you! I will! I will!”
“Come!” The creature cried. “Come get the money, the pretty money! Master says to give you the pretty money.”
The commandant ordered the guards to follow the creature. They refused to move. Every curse word and threat the commandant knew could not force them to budge. Finally, he snarled at the creature, “You get the money and bring it here.”
The little creature turned, muttering to itself in disgust. “Go get money… Not come with child for money... Must bring money to silly boys… silly foolish boys.” It cackled while smacking its lips, catching itself up short. “Not hungry. Not hungry now.”
The creature dissolved into the darkness. The men could hear it talking and complaining about the gold and the bad little boys as it moved toward the far end of the animal pen. A little while later a heated argument ensued, the creature complaining about the bad little boys and how it didn’t want to give them the money. Then came a loud smack and all was quiet. Moments later, a small purse was flung past them, hitting the stone pavement with a ‘plop!’
The second guard scooped up the bag, which was promptly confiscated by the commandant. With shaking fingers he opened it, tipping the contents into his hand. Out fell three silver and two gold stater coins - a half-year’s wages.
The guards hopped with joy, chattering about their newfound wealth. The commandant gleefully handed a silver coin to each guard and began to pocket the rest, that is, until the one guard reminded him of what the little creature had warned about, sharing and all. A lively argument broke out, lasting until the sun peeked over the eastern hills.
The outcome was uncertain, at least for Hanna, for she had quickly disappeared, parting the scene through a sewer grate on the far side of the pens. By the time the sun arrived, the stinky little creature was little more than a memory, as Hanna was now preparing another charade.