by Carol Ashby
So many years together let Publius hear what wasn’t spoken. Malleolus wasn’t a mere servant; he was a trusted friend. Publius would discuss Jesus with him, but not now. If a man really wasn’t interested, it was better to wait.
Publius laid his hand on his steward’s shoulder. “I hear your ‘no,’ and that’s fine. We can talk again later when you think you might want to.”
The tension drained out of Malleolus. “Did you need me for anything else?”
“No. Not right now. You can go.” Publius picked up the stylus and began rolling it between his fingers again as his faithful servant bowed and left the room.
Publius shook his head. Neither Claudia nor Malleolus were ready to listen and understand, but he was a patient man. There would be many opportunities to share with them about Jesus and the joy that came from believing in him. The day would come when they would believe, too.
Publius’s first week as a follower of Jesus had been more wonderful than even he had expected. Reading the Scriptures, saying his prayers, even just walking in his garden, everywhere he went and everything he did―he felt the closeness of God.
He went to the synagogue on the Sabbath, as he had been doing for the past three years. The Jewish Scriptures seemed even more alive now he knew Jesus was the fulfillment. Sabbath was good, but it was the second Sunday worship at Aristarchus’s house that he could hardly wait for.
This time, when he knocked at the door, the doorkeeper admitted him immediately. Aristarchus was delighted to see him, and they sat together while Philip taught more on the gospel of John. His heart soared toward heaven as they sang the songs. He’d learned all the words of one they’d sung the week before, and they kept playing in his mind. Aristarchus introduced him to several of the brothers, and he thoroughly enjoyed their conversation.
As Publius walked home, he found himself more at peace than he’d ever been. His only regret was that he hadn’t learned that Jesus was his Savior years before. Soon he would convince Claudia and Malleolus to join him as believers. When Titus returned from Thracia, he would convince him, too, and then all those he loved would share his joy.
Life was very good, and he was content.
Chapter 8: Betrayal
As Publius walked home from worship the next Sunday, he tried not to grin at total strangers. To think that only three weeks ago he had still been worrying about how his sins could be covered so he could approach God without temple sacrifice. After only three gatherings with his new Christian friends, he already felt like part of a big family. Aristarchus was more of a kindred spirit than any of his closest friends whom he’d known since childhood. And the teachings that Philip shared―Aristarchus hadn’t just been a proud father exaggerating when he said you could hear the words of God when the young man spoke.
Contentment colored the smile he gave his door slave as he passed through into the atrium. It felt like it might be a good day to try to tell Claudia about Jesus again, so he walked through the house and out into the garden. He found her sitting under the arbor, reading as usual.
Claudia looked up from her codex when she heard her father’s footsteps. He’d been blissfully happy for the past two weeks. His mood had never stayed so high for so long before. Every time he came back from meeting with his new Christian friends, he almost had a glow about him.
He walked over and kissed her on the top of her head. “What are you reading today?”
“The new codex you got me. Maybe you could read me some of the poems again? Especially the one that’s your favorite right now.”
“Of course. Anything you’d like.”
She beamed up at him. “I love it when you read to me, Father.”
She held out the codex and patted the bench next to her. He took it and sat down. He opened the codex to a poem near the middle, but he paused before beginning to read.
“It was another wonderful worship time today. I learned even more about how much God loves us all. Knowing that Jesus set me free from my sins―I can’t describe how wonderful that feels.”
It was obvious something unusual had happened to Father, but Claudia couldn’t imagine what that might be. Maybe it was time to ask.
Father took her hand. “I know you haven’t been interested in the past in hearing about sin and forgiveness and the sacrifice God Himself made, but I would love to tell you everything as soon as you care to hear it.”
For a moment, she considered telling him she wanted to hear.
“Aemilia is already expecting me this afternoon. She was planning to show me some new jewelry that her father just bought her, and then we were going shopping for some new sandals to wear with it.”
She paused. As she looked into her father’s eager eyes, she almost asked him to tell her right then.
Then the stable slave entered the garden and bowed. “Your sedan chair awaits you, mistress.”
Claudia placed her hand on her father’s arm as she stood. “I would love to have you tell me more later this week, when we have time for a long talk.” She kissed his cheek and turned to follow the slave from the garden.
Publius’s smile broadened as Claudia disappeared through the portal. He’d watched her face closely, and for the first time, he didn’t see that artificial smile she used to politely remove herself from an uncomfortable conversation. His precious daughter was almost ready for the discussion that might transform her life, just as it had his.
Lucius had been to the Baths of Trajan, and he’d decided to drop in to visit his father. It was, after all, his duty as a son, even though he and Father had nothing in common. If the truth were known, it would have shocked both Claudia and Father that he was hoping to find their father developing a health problem. Anything that would hasten Father’s death and bring freedom from his control would be welcome.
His father’s obvious vigor was a disappointment, but there was something different since Lucius had seen him a month ago―something he couldn’t explain. Father seemed too happy. Usually when Lucius visited, his father’s facial expressions were at best neutral and more often disapproving. Today, Father had smiled broadly when he first approached and spoken words that sounded like he was really glad to see his son. It had been years since he’d had that kind of response to his visit.
Claudia had thoroughly enjoyed shopping with Aemilia. Her best friend wasn’t a scholar or even remotely interested in the deep subjects she loved discussing with her father, but she was a dear friend with a kind heart and a generous spirit. The girls loved spending time together.
It was almost time for dinner when she returned home. As she walked into the atrium from the vestibulum, Lucius entered from the library.
“Lucius! What a nice surprise. Are you going to join us for dinner?”
“Not today. I was just at the baths and thought I’d drop in to pay my respects to Father before I went home.”
“I’m sorry. It’s been much too long since you spent some time with Father and me. It would have been so nice if you could have stayed.”
Lucius and Father disagreed about so many things since Father became a God-fearer. Too many times, she’d heard Father criticizing Lucius for something, and then they would argue. Lucius usually left angry, and Father was always sad for a while after that. If only they got along better. She sighed. A nice dinner together might have helped.
Lucius pasted on a fake smile. “I already have an engagement for this evening. I’m sorry I can’t stay. Father seemed unusually happy today. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time. Do you know why?”
“Yes. He’s become a Christian.”
Lucius couldn’t believe his ears. Being a Christian was a capital offense in parts of the Empire, and Father becoming one presented the perfect opportunity. One of his good friends was a praetor who hated Christians, and he would be glad to interrogate and condemn Lucius’s father if he wouldn’t worship Caesar. This was even better than finding his father was sick.
He concentrated on keeping his
smile from becoming a smirk. “Really? Is that why he’s so happy today? I thought something must have happened. When did he do that?”
“About two weeks ago. He’s been happy all the time since then.”
“I knew he was happy as a God-fearer, but I didn’t expect him to become a Christian. Do you know who talked Father into this? Was it one of his good friends?”
“I don’t really know. He just came home from his meeting at the synagogue two weeks ago and told me he thought Jesus was the solution to all his worries about being a sinner. Other than that, I don’t know anything about why he decided to become one.”
Lucius fought to suppress a grin. This was the solution to all his problems. A single conversation with his friend, and he would be well on his way to being the new head of the family.
“Thank you, Claudia.”
As Lucius walked through the vestibulum and the door slave opened the door for him, Claudia stood staring at his back. What on earth could he possibly be thanking her for?
The bright morning sunshine was streaming in through the window of Claudia’s bedchamber. Graecia had almost finished pinning the last of the curls in her elegant hairdo when Claudia heard the commotion in the atrium. The sound of tramping feet was followed by a man’s voice barking commands. She rose from her vanity stool and hurried to the door. Her father was facing a centurion, who stood with his hand resting on his sword.
“Are you Publius Claudius Drusus?”
Father’s head tipped. “I am. What’s your business here?”
“I am here to arrest you for the crime of treason.”
Her father’s head snapped back. “Treason? I am a loyal son of Rome. I have committed no treason.”
“You are charged with being a Christian, and you are summoned to answer the charge. You will come with us now.”
Claudia ran from her room to throw her arms around her father. “No! You can’t take him. He’s never done anything wrong.”
The centurion stared at her stone-faced, unmoved by her distress.
Publius kissed his daughter’s forehead. “It’s all right, child. I knew this might happen, and it’s all right.”
He extracted himself from her arms. “Graecia. Come take her.”
The maid hurried over and wrapped her arm around Claudia. Publius rested his hand on his treasured daughter’s cheek and wiped away some tears. She grabbed his other hand and held it to her chest.
“Don’t grieve for me, child. No matter what happens, don’t grieve. Jesus paid for my sins, and I don’t have to be afraid, even if I die. I just wish I’d had more time to explain it all so you’d understand.”
“No, Father! Please. Tell them it’s all a mistake. Tell them you’re not a Christian.”
“I can’t do that, Claudia. I can’t deny my Lord just to stay here, not even for you. I love you, child, more than my own life, but I love Him even more.”
Claudia sank to her knees, still clinging to her father’s hand. She looked up at the centurion with pleading eyes. “Please! Don’t take him.”
The centurion pulled their hands apart and shoved Publius ahead of him. “Move.”
Claudia leaped to her feet. Graecia wrapped her arms around her and held on as Claudia struggled to reach him one more time.
As they left the atrium, Publius turned to gaze one last time on his beautiful daughter. Then the centurion shoved him forward, and he lost sight of his greatest earthly treasure. His eyes must now be fixed on the heavenly one.
Chapter 9: The Legacy
The trial had gone exactly as Publius expected. He’d been given the chance to offer a sacrifice to Caesar as lord and deny Jesus. He had, of course, refused, and now he was in a tiny cell deep under the Flavian Amphitheater waiting for his execution.
A key rattled in the lock, the door swung open, and Appius Manlius Torquatus entered, accompanied by one of his slaves.
His friend strode over to him and placed both hands on Publius’s arms.
“I couldn’t believe it when I heard you were condemned to the arena for being a Christian. I can get you another hearing with a different praetor, and we can get you out of here. After you make the sacrifice to Caesar, we can put this all behind you.”
Publius patted his friend’s shoulder. “I appreciate you coming here to see me, my friend. I appreciate your offer to get me a second hearing with an impartial judge, but the result would be the same. But there is something you can do for me before I die.”
“What is it?”
“I want to write a final letter to Titus. All my property has been seized. The letter will be the only legacy I can give him. I need to explain why I’m dying and to tell him why I do it willingly.”
Appius’s head bounced back. “You don’t want to fight this?”
Publius shook his head as a slow smile formed. “No. I can’t do what it would take to win. I can’t sacrifice to Caesar without denying my Lord Jesus, and I will not do that.”
Appius peered deep into his eyes before the slow nod came. He turned to his slave. “Glyptus, go buy pen and ink and plenty of papyrus sheets and bring it all back here as quickly as you can.”
His slave bowed and hastened away to execute his master’s command.
“I’ll stay here until Glyptus returns to make sure he can get back in. He’ll wait while you write and then bring the letter to me. I’ll make sure it gets to Titus.”
Appius lowered his head to stare at the filthy floor. He stood in silence, searching for something to say to a friend who was about to die. The pain in his eyes when he looked up again spoke volumes.
“Appius, you have been my best friend for more than thirty years. There won’t be time to explain why I’m making this choice to die for Jesus so you could possibly understand. I want you to promise me you’ll read what I write to Titus before you send it. Then maybe you’ll see why I have no other choice.”
Appius nodded without speaking. His jaw clenched. Publius had never seen him at a loss for words, even after the carnage of the battles they’d fought in their youth. A Roman was supposed to be strong, able to face anything stoically, even to joke about death. But it was obvious Appius couldn’t bear the loss of his closest friend that way.
Publius chose his next words to soften the blow. “Did you make it to the lecture that Lartius Licinius gave yesterday on Vespasianus when he commanded the II Augusta Legion during the invasion of Britannia?”
“Yes.” Appius’s eyebrows shot up. Publius suppressed his grin. It was a very odd question from a man about to die.
“Good. I’ve always enjoyed Licinius’s lectures on Britannia. I hope you can tell me some of the highlights while we wait.”
“Of course. He thought the decision to move the II Augusta from Germania to Britannia was…” Appius began their last discussion of history with a sigh of relief.
Publius fixed his gaze on Appius and nodded at the important points. His friend couldn’t speak the words he wanted to say, but Publius could let him think their discussion had helped him think of something other than the lions for the few remaining minutes they had together.
He didn’t need the distraction, but his friend couldn’t yet understand that. Perhaps after he read the letter, he would.
When the slave returned with the writing materials, Publius rested his hand on Appius’s shoulder.
“It’s time, my friend. Thank you for this last discussion. Remember your promise to read my letter before sending it to Titus.”
“I will.”
Appius stepped to the door and called the guard. When the door opened, he stood for a moment, his lips squeezed tight as his gaze lingered one last time on his best friend. Then he turned and slowly walked away.
Publius pointed to a corner. “There’s a dry spot over there, Glyptus. Sit, if you wish. This will take some time.”
As Publius began to write the most important letter of his life, he gave thanks to God for this last chance to
share the faith worth dying for, first with his best friend and then with his best son.
When Malleolus walked through the atrium and past Claudia’s room, he heard her crying...again. He wanted to cry himself. The master he’d followed into battle on the frontier before becoming steward―the master who’d freed him and called him friend, the master he loved like a brother―had been betrayed by the scum of a son that he now had to treat like the master himself.
He would do anything to save Publius, but what could he do? The great wealth of the Claudius Drusus family was, to a large extent, due to Malleolus’s extraordinary skill in managing all the master’s estates and other affairs, but none of it was his. He’d invested his own small salary, but he had too little to help the best man he’d ever known. If only there were something, anything, he could do to get Publius out of the cells beneath the arena.
Decimus Lentulus had just returned to Rome. His father, Tiberius, had finished his term of service as governor of Germania Superior and had chosen his son to command the cavalry troop that escorted him back to Rome. His father was planning to build Decimus’s network of politically valuable acquaintances before he had to return to his post as senatorial tribune of a legion in Germania. A few months ago, nothing would have pleased Decimus more. He now had other priorities, and the need for a serious private conversation with his best friend, Titus Drusus, was uppermost in his mind.
When Decimus knocked on the door of the Drusus house, it was opened by a house slave he didn’t recognize.
“I’ve come to see Titus.”
“Master Titus is not at home.”
“Do you expect him soon?” Disappointment dragged Decimus’s mouth down.
“He is serving now in Perinthus in Thracia. He hasn’t been home for more than three years, and we don’t expect him within the next year.”
Disappointment surged through Decimus, then his frown flipped into a smile. Publius would be even better for part of what he needed. Who better to consult than the man to whom he’d brought all his ethical quandaries during his youth? In all the ways that were important, Publius had served in the role of father when his own was too busy with political affairs.
