“The bread hasn’t had time to rise yet, but it will be ready soon. I’m so sorry it’s not done.” Syntyche blushed and turned back toward the culina.
“Come sit. The bread will wait. Join us in thanking our Father for the safe return of our friends.” Lydia handed out goblets of honeyed wine. “I know this isn’t the usual morning fare, but I also know you didn’t eat most of yesterday, either. You need food for those bruises to heal.”
“Then you must rest.” Loukas ripped a chunk of meat from the platter. “Rest is the best medicine you can give your body.”
“I thought a merry heart was good medicine,” Timos said.
Paulos laughed. “Ah, Timotheos, your mater taught you well.”
Quin glanced at Tia, who shrugged.
“Timos is quoting our Scriptures, Quin.” Silas clasped his young friend on the shoulder. “When we found him in Lystra, he knew the Holy Writings better than anyone we had ever met. His mother and grandmother had taught him. He was the son of a Greek father in a Roman outpost, and they managed to teach him to worship the living God.”
Paulos sipped his wine. “The Scriptures are true, of course. You all have made my heart lighter and I feel better already.”
“Still no substitute for rest.”
“Of course, dear medicus.” Paulos laughed.
It was amazing how easily they could all laugh after everything that had happened. Paulos and Silas were still in pain, he could tell, even if Loukas’s medicine was beginning to take its effect.
Quin had only trusted in Yeshua for a few hours. Would he ever have the faith these men had?
Because he still had no idea what his immediate future held. Did he still have a job? Did he still want it? If he didn’t, where would he live? How would he live?
The questions bounced around in his head, producing no answers. He’d been thinking about all of it for too long and his mind was exhausted—most of a day with Loukas at his farm, only to return to the nightmare on the forum that had extended not only deep into the night but now past dawn.
Perhaps he should take the physician’s advice before he tried to figure out anything.
But at least he was still alive, and Tia was safe. For now.
As the men finished eating, Tia and the others gathered up the dishes.
“Have you talked to him yet?” Charis bumped her with her shoulder.
“What? Who?”
She laughed. “Who else? The soldier. The one we were praying for before the sun showed its face. The one we cooked all this food for.”
She frowned. “I thought we were praying for Paulos and Silas.”
“Them too. But neither of them is the one who hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he got here.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s true.” Syntyche entered the kitchen, a stack of dishes in hand. “He’s been watching every move you make.”
“You’re both completely mistaken.” Tia tossed a cloth on the table and flounced out of the room to a flurry of giggles.
Composing herself before she entered the peristyle once again, she found the only seat available was next to Quin.
His eyes followed her as she neared him, his smile—the one she’d come to adore—bringing some light to his otherwise exhausted features.
She sat next to him and he slipped his arm around her, drawing her near.
“Are you safe now?” she whispered.
He shrugged. “I believe so. If he were going to do anything, I think he would have done it already. But who knows?”
An unseen hand reached into her chest and squeezed her heart. Could he still be executed?
“We can do this.” He grinned and kissed her temple before turning his attention back to Paulos and Silas.
We?
We. He could still face death for his part in last night’s debacle, and she could be reclaimed by Max at any moment.
But for now they were we. They had one another and they had the living God.
Tomorrow would bring its own challenges in addition to those of today yet unsolved, but for now she chose to rest in the Father.
For just this moment, it was enough.
29
“After Paul and Silas came out of the prison, they went to Lydia’s house . . .”
Acts 16:40
Quin awoke in one of Lydia’s many guest rooms. Yesterday everyone had slept off and on, recovering from the ordeal that had felt like it would never end. At least he and Paulos and Silas had. Sleep was more than enough to bring him back to excellent physical condition, except for his hip, but the others had lost a good deal of blood and it would likely take several more days before they could travel.
He wandered downstairs and found only the two of them in the peristyle. A plate of cheese and bread sat on a low table.
“Where is everyone else?”
“It seems Lydia’s household had a great deal of work to catch up on. Several are at the dyeworks, Lydia and Demas went to visit clients. They thought we might enjoy a quiet day.”
Quin took a seat and reached for a piece of bread. “May I ask you something?”
“I would imagine you have a great many questions.”
“I do, but I’ll start with one. What are you making? You’ve been working very hard on that.” He gestured toward the folded leather and parchment creation in Paulos’s hands.
Paulos tied a knot into the thread and then bit it off. “This is a gift for you.”
“For me?”
“For all of you here in Philippi. It’s a codex, a copy of the Scriptures.” Paulos thumbed through its pages. “The Law, the history, poetry, and the prophets. This is how you will learn more about Yahweh.” He held it out for Quin.
He drew his fingers over the codex. Soft leather covered pages and pages of handwritten parchment. Each sheet, folded in half. A metal clasp to keep it closed and protected. Exquisite.
“I’ll take good care of it.”
“I’ve no doubt.”
“May I ask you another question?”
“What question would that be?”
“Why did you not claim your citizenship earlier? You could have prevented all of this—the beating, the imprisonment, all of it.”
Paulos nodded. “You’re absolutely right. We could have prevented any pain or inconvenience. But then what happens after I leave? What happens to Lydia, or the grain merchant, or Euodia when they are accused of the same crimes? If I claim citizenship to avoid persecution, then what is to happen to those who have no citizenship to hide behind? I cannot ask those we leave behind to endure anything we have not ourselves suffered.”
“I suppose I understand that.” He paused. “Has this happened before? Timos said you were stoned. In Lystra, I think?”
“We were. But that was by the Jewish leaders. This is nothing new. The leaders of the synagogue have been against the Way since Yeshua began teaching about His Father. I myself was one of their most vigorous persecutors. I’m sure Loukas told you.”
“Some of it.”
“But what happened here is different.” Silas was uncharacteristically somber. “The Roman government has never been involved before.”
“We have never been treated so shamefully as we have here. To be stripped, flogged, without any chance to speak even a word . . . it is disgraceful that any man should be treated in such a manner.” Paulos’s voice was soft.
A lump worked its way up Quin’s throat. “I’m so sorry I had any part in that. You have no idea.”
“You caused none of the pain, or the shame. And if you hadn’t been there, would you be here now?” Silas’s grin was back.
“The persecution is only going to get worse. Trust me, this is just the beginning.” Paulos focused his gaze on Quin. “There will come a day when we will be arrested and thrown in prison just for saying the name of Yeshua. And that, my son, is why I think our God has brought you to Philippi.”
“What do you think I can do?”
“You�
��ll be one of our leaders. That’s why I made the codex for you.”
Quin laughed. “I’ve followed Yeshua for less than two days. How can I lead anyone?”
“You’ll still be ahead of most of the others that will come to know him here in this city,” Silas said. “I believe God has great plans for Philippi. And he has you and Elantia, Epaphras and Charis, and Lydia and her household to lead the way.”
Paulos pointed a long finger at Quin. “In your position as prison master, you may be able to help protect them. You know Gallus and Decimus, you know how the Roman world works.” He drew in a long breath. “This is a whole new war, Tribune. And we need you here.”
How was he supposed to protect everyone who came to know Yeshua? He couldn’t countermand the magistrate’s orders. He couldn’t possibly know what that unpredictable man would do. Quin might not even be here himself that long, if Gallus had his way.
As if Paulos could read his thoughts, he touched his shoulder. “Quin, no one expects you to do the impossible. But I believe our Father took you out of Britannia and placed you here, as a soldier of God, for His purposes. Just keep doing your job, the job He placed you in. Do what God asks you to do when He asks you to do it. He asked me to order the spirit to leave Elantia, and I did. He did not ask me to be responsible for everything that happened after. He asks me to tell everyone that Yeshua is the Son of God. I do. I am not responsible for what people do with that knowledge. You put us in the inner cell, but God rescued us. Just keep doing what you’re asked to do.”
“That’s all?”
“Isn’t that the way it works in the army? You should be used to this.” Silas laughed. “You simply have a different commander now.”
Quin smiled. “You’re right. I can do that.”
As long as He allows me to.
Tia had sneaked out of the house with Lydia before dawn just to have something to do, and somewhere else to do it. She picked up a piece of fabric Lydia had dyed a beautiful indigo. The dye shop was full of cloth that needed to be folded and sorted into orders for clients or stacked by color for Lydia to turn into exquisite articles of clothing. The last several days had put them behind, and until that area was cleared, she couldn’t begin dying more cloth.
Beside her, Timos picked up a stack of folded cloth and placed it into a basket to be taken to Lydia’s house. “You’re very quiet this morning.”
“I was thinking.”
“About?”
“I’m not really sure what I am.”
He smiled. “You are a child of God. A daughter of the King.”
That much was true. “That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean then?”
“Where I fit. I’m not Roman or Greek or even Macedonian. Paulos says we’ll be the foundation of the church here when he leaves but . . . Quin is a tribune. People listen to him. Lydia is a successful merchant, Loukas a physician. Even Epaphras is a leader among the slaves. I’m just a fugitive. How can I be a leader of anything?”
“Oh, everyone is a slave.”
She laughed. “No they’re not. Look at Lydia. Look at her beautiful stola—that she made herself. And Loukas—even Gallus respects him.” She thought of Quin and the way he looked in his leather cuirass molded to perfectly fit him, his gleaming sword reflecting the sun. His striking Roman figure was anything but slave-like.
She gestured to Timos. “And you—you’re not a slave. How can you say something like that?”
“Because it’s true. Everyone is a slave. We are either a slave to sin or to righteousness.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What is the most important thing, as a slave?” He set the load of indigo on a table by the door.
“To obey.”
“Exactly. You can either obey the evil desires of sin, which lead only to death, or you can obey the laws of God, which lead to holiness, and eternal life with Him.” He began folding bleached linen to fill a new basket.
She nearly choked. “But I don’t know all of the laws! I can’t obey them all! What if I break one by mistake? Or still sin?” Panic set in. Would she lose everything she had just found?
“When you placed your faith in Christ, God set you free from the power of sin. This is why I say you are no longer a slave to sin, but a slave to Christ. And that faith and obedience is counted as righteousness. You don’t have to know all the laws, because God is teaching them to you. He is writing them on your heart. You are growing in your faith and knowledge of Him every day.”
She had spent every day since leaving Britannia trying to break free of her slavery. Could she be happy as a slave, a slave to Christ?
“Is this why Lydia could be content while she was a slave? Why Euodia refused Lydia’s offer to purchase her?”
He nodded. “I’m not saying everyone should remain in bondage. Our Father has different plans for each person. Euodia believes that is where she belongs. I don’t know what He has in store for you.”
“What about my brother?”
“Your brother?”
“Max killed my brother. I vowed I would kill him for that.”
Timos froze, his hands in mid-air. The calm smile melted from his face, and she watched a myriad of conflicting thoughts race through his mind as he tried to decide what to say. “You cannot mean to still do that.” He furrowed his brow. “Do you?”
Elantia picked at her fingernails. “I know it’s wrong. I don’t really want to kill him anymore. But I don’t know if I can forgive him. Tancorix saved my life. More than once on our trip over here.” Her eyes burned, and she swiped away tears.
He took her hand. “Tia, unforgiveness will only eat a hole in your heart, not his. It will keep you in bondage more surely than anything in this world.”
More tears flowed. “I don’t know how to forgive him. How do I do that? I don’t want to forget my bratir.”
“You don’t have to. I said forgive Max, not forget your brother.”
A sob escaped her.
“May I pray for you?”
“Please?”
“Our heavenly Father, we come to You to seek Your help. Your precious child needs to forgive a tremendous wrong done to her. We all have sinned against You, and do not deserve Your forgiveness. Yet You died for us, so that we might live with You forever. Help Elantia to share that forgiveness with her dominus, so her heart can heal. Let Your love flow through her, so that perhaps he, too, can come to know Your salvation.” He squeezed her hand before he let go.
There was no immediate, complete healing. She was still angry with Max. Furious. Enraged. But there was a tiny part of her that was willing to let go that wasn’t there before.
And that was progress.
That was God.
Quin paced in Lydia’s peristyle. Paulos and Silas had returned to their rooms to rest after their discussion earlier.
He hadn’t spoken to Gallus since that morning, the morning they had been escorted through the forum. What would Gallus say to him if he showed up at the prison? Or the basilica?
“Quin.”
He looked up at the sound of Loukas’s gentle voice.
“Tell me, honestly, how are you doing? It’s been two days since the earthquake. You haven’t been back to the prison.”
“I’m wasn’t sure I would go back. I’m not sure what I’d do instead, though. I haven’t had any time to save up any coin. I lose my home if I’m no longer keeper of the prison. I’m not even sure if Gallus wants me to continue. But Paulos believes I should.”
“Have you prayed about this decision?”
He winced. “No, I’m afraid praying about things is not something I’m used to yet.”
“It takes a while to become used to thinking that way. Making Him a part of your life is a conscious decision that has to be made over and over again, every day.”
Could he do that? He didn’t regret his decision, but would he disappoint God?
“Don’t worry. Sometimes we have to make that decision more
than once in the same day.” He laughed. “God does not expect perfection.”
“That’s good to know.”
“I’m going to find something to eat. Want anything?”
“No. I think I have something I need to do.”
At the end of Lydia’s street, he turned left and soon entered the forum. Nothing much seemed to have changed since the night before last, for most of Philippi. Most of the people barely felt the quake. For him, though . . .
“Quin, I’ve been looking for you.” The senior magistrate approached him.
“Decimus.”
“How are your friends? Healing, I hope?”
“They’re recovering nicely, thank you.”
Decimus’s gaze skimmed the forum. “Can we move over here a moment?” He gestured to an open space, leading Quin away from the crowd. “I wanted to ask you about them.”
“What about them?”
“I found their attitude to be . . . rather different.”
Just when he thought everything was over. Was Decimus going to make trouble for them now? He’d come to think of Decimus as a friend. “What do you mean different?”
“After everything Gallus did to them, they had every reason, every right, to want to hurt him. To cause pain. At least to demand justice. Revenge, even. But they didn’t. Not even a public apology. They only asked for some time to rest before traveling on. I find that odd. Commendable, but odd.”
“I agree, it’s definitely different. Not the way I was taught.”
“So how do you explain that?”
“That’s the way of their God.” He paused. “My God now too.”
His eyes widened. “You’ve decided to follow their God?”
“I have. Will that be a problem?” Had he just signed his own death warrant?
“Not with me. Not if it makes people behave like that.”
“Would you like to know more about Him?”
Decimus thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No. I’m not ready for that. I have too much to lose. And I’m too afraid. Of Gallus and of Rome.”
Sold Into Freedom Page 28