Linux leaned back so as to study his friend from head to toe. "How you have changed."
Alban gave no sign he had even heard. "I believe the Lord performed this fearsome sign so we would clearly understand that choices must be made. Either we are fully with him, or we are with the world. We will soon be forced to declare our allegiance, and in doing so, we must accept that the world may then cast us out."
Linux protested, "But it was your own leader who condemned those two!"
Alban nodded slowly. "Yet it was the Lord who caused this dread miracle to take place. And for what purpose? That is the question we must ask ourselves. Miracles carry a great many messages. God did this for a reason. Or maybe more than one."
Outside their tent, men shouted as a neighboring caravan began to move. Linux watched the long procession slowly take aim for the Judean hills. He felt a sudden lurch in his chest, as though he too was about to embark on an unexpected voyage, one whose destination he could not fathom.
He could feel Alban's gaze on him. Linux turned and looked directly into his friend's eyes. He had the distinct impression that Alban knew what he was about to say, was merely waiting for Linux to shape the words.
"I wish ..." Linux licked dry lips. "I wish to wed the woman Abigail. I ask you to speak to her on my behalf."
Alban turned to Jacob and said, "Would you go and tell the caravan master where I am? I promised to accompany him into the city this afternoon."
Jacob looked like he was going to argue but eventually shrugged and left. Linux said, "He does want to become a legionnaire."
"I know full well what Jacob wants. What I'm waiting to hear is that he is seeking the Lord's will for himself."
Linux looked beyond Alban's commoner's clothing, the dust, the marked changes from what he had been when they had first met. "Who exactly are you?"
"I should be asking you that question," Alban said. "And until I know the answer, I cannot help you with your own request."
Linux squinted against what felt like a rebuke. "After all I did to assist you in getting the woman you wanted. Were you so honorable in seeking your own bride? Everyone knows you saw her as a mere stepping-stone to higher position."
"I have forgotten nothing," Alban replied quietly. "Ambition certainly ruled my desires. But things have changed. I have changed. I am not proud of those original motives. But thankfully I moved off that path to one that leads in a totally different direction." He paused and looked directly at Linux, then said, "Abigail is also on this new path, this new life-mine and Leah's."
"You are saying I cannot be a part of that world?"
"My dear friend, nothing would give me greater joy than to count you among us. Is this what you want?"
Linux clenched his teeth and did not reply.
"Abigail is a follower of the Way. Until such time as you too have become one of us, I cannot fulfill your request."
The bile rose in Linux's throat. He had imagined many routes this discussion might take, but never had he anticipated such an outrageous condition. "Aren't your eyes open? Have your ears been dulled? The followers are considered a growing threat to Rome! If you cared for this woman as you claim, you'd know that she would be much safer with me!"
"Safe perhaps, but exceedingly unhappy. Her faith means everything to her. That you do not share it-"
"Might I remind you that my intentions are honorable. I would not demand she forsake her faith. I love this woman."
"Love?" Slowly Alban shook his head. "No, Linux, I see desire."
Linux rose to his feet, the dust of defeat coating his throat. "This pompous, narrow religiosity does not become you."
"This faith," Alban replied quietly, remaining seated where he was, ,this all-encompassing faith."
"I had thought you to be a worthy friend. Now I see only a bigoted fool, unwilling to accept the inevitable." Linux stomped back into the sunlight and almost collided with Jacob.
One look into Linux's face, and all hope fled from the boy's features. "He refused you too?"
Linux resisted the urge to lift his fists to the heavens and shout his rage. "When you are ready, come to my quarters. I will do for you what I can."
C H A P T E R
TWENTY-Two
THE FAMILY OF ANANIAS gathered at Ezra's house for the formal period of mourning. He had made the offer because his own home was larger, and because his children were in no state of mind to be transported back and forth through the crowded Jerusalem streets. The death of their aunt had revived all the tragic feelings they still harbored from the loss of their mother. Ezra knew he was not a good enough father. Though he took them with him on his various travels, he did not spend enough time with them. He was fond of them, as fond as any father could be who also ran a trading empire. But he needed a wife who could be a mother to-
His thoughts ran in this direction only to collide with the fact that it was the clan of this woman Abigail who had caused his sister's death!
And it was only because of this woman that he'd had any contact with these so-called followers at all. Well, it was true that Gamaliel had asked him to investigate the group. But perhaps if he had not become so involved. Perhaps if he had resisted Abigail's lure, he could have turned his sister away from this fate....
Ezra knew these thoughts and the guilt were not founded in reality. But he could not stop them any more than he could keep at bay his uncoiling rage.
He focused upon the man seated across the table from him. They sat in a private chamber of the home, away from the large group of mourners whose cries could be heard through the walls. Ezra spoke in a voice he did not even recognize as his own. "They are a threat, and they must be crushed."
Gamaliel had come each day, joining with the family in the formal kaddish, the prayer for the recently departed. The senior Pharisee and member of the ruling Council stood shoulder to shoulder with Ezra and the other elders. His presence had done much to quash murmurs and gossip about the unusual circumstances of the deaths.
Here in the privacy of this chamber, the Pharisee's doubts and hesitation were given freer reign. "Did you know even Titus has joined them?"
Ezra started to lash out, tempted to tell his oldest friend that his minor troubles had no place in this chamber today. But he stifled the outburst before it took form. Ezra was doing that a great deal these days. Everything seemed to bring him to the brink of losing his normally formidable control.
He had to search to recall of whom Gamaliel spoke. Then it came to him. Titus was the slender bearded student, the trusted young man who had been teaching his son. Gamaliel had sent Titus out also to gather information on the sect.
Ezra could hear the repressed anger grate in his voice as he finally said, "I am sorry to hear of this betrayal. But I fail to see how that news has a place in today's discussion."
"Yes, of course you are right," Gamaliel said contritely, stroking his beard. "Even so, I wish to tell you what happened. Titus came to me a few nights ago. He said he had searched the Torah and searched his heart. He found that the message being brought to the people by these so-called followers had spoken to him. He was joining them. He asked my blessing. Of course I told him it was out of the question. I warned him that if he took this preposterous step, I would cast him from my household and erase his name from the members of the scribes' community. That was the word I used. Preposterous. Even so, Titus merely bowed and departed. I have not seen him since."
"You can't possibly be suggesting there is any parallel between this dreadful act that caused my sister's death and your student joining the sect. There must be revenge for their barbaric actions, whatever your aide-Titus, is it?-might be doing."
Gamaliel looked at his friend, his face creased with deep lines of anguish. "Logic says that we must strike. As do many on the Council. But ..."
Ezra felt the rage uncoil, lifting him from his seat. The fire in his gut sparked flames to his words. "You cannot possibly be thinking to defend this rabble!"
Gamaliel seemed to struggle
to his feet, moving like a confused old man. "I must pray and study further on this."
"They have murdered my sister!"
"Your dear Sapphira is most certainly dead," Gamaliel said, his voice reed-thin. "But by whose hand?"
"You cannot be serious!"
"All I know is what I have heard. From a dozen different sources. Eyewitnesses." The elder Pharisee's feet moved slowly across the stone floor. "A man accused them of lying. Two people who had conspired in a dishonest act fell down and breathed their last. What does this suggest to you?"
Ezra pounded the table with both fists. "It suggests nothing! It demands revenge!"
"Pray." Gamaliel did not turn back toward Ezra from the doorway. "I must pray."
Abigail feared that there would be no sleep for her this night. Never had her world made such a dramatic turn for the good in such a short time. Not in her wildest dreams or her most heartfelt yearnings would she ever have dared to wish for such reversals.
It had begun at an evening meal she had planned in Alban's honor. Yet even as she had carefully prepared the roast of lamb seasoned to Alban's liking, she had a growing sense that much more was at work this evening. There had been no further discussion of the offers for her hand in marriage, though Alban's time with them was quickly coming to a close. Abigail knew that conversations and decisions were still ahead. As she worked, her mood vacillated. First with pleasure anticipating the evening ahead, then with concern. Surely Alban will not assign me to a life with either of them....
The meal had gone as Abigail had hoped. The invited guests conversed animatedly about what God had been doing in their midst. Alban talked about what was happening among the believers in Galilee, how the numbers were growing there as well. Many villages and cities between Jerusalem and Capernaum were also reporting additional seekers of the Way.
Even the threat of continuing opposition did not dampen their enthusiasm, though everyone around the table knew the threat of persecution hung on the horizon.
When the tables had been cleared, Martha insisted that she and others from the kitchen finish the cleaning up so Abigail might spend the time remaining with Alban before his departure. Abigail quietly sat down at one end of the table, a mixture of emotions making her tremble.
It was Peter who introduced the subject. "You are aware of course, Alban, that two individuals have asked for a marriage to be arranged. I have given my word that nothing will move forward without your consent. I cannot let the time of your departure arrive without making good on my word."
"I understand."
It was clear to Abigail that Alban was no more anxious to make the decision than she herself. He cleared his throat, an action Abigail guessed was a stall for time. When he spoke it was to Peter. "Would you offer your thoughts on these two men?"
Peter was direct as always. "One is Ezra, a high-ranking merchant, rich as the world counts richness. An older man, but well respected in his community. He is the father of two young children. Maybe a bit on the pompous side. But undoubtedly well able to care for a wife and, I should suppose, do so with an amount of honest concern for her well-being. The other man is your friend Linux. A Roman. Not a bad sort for a Roman. If I remember correctly, it was he who helped you escape a few years back."
Alban merely nodded. Abigail could feel her heart pounding against her arms folded across her chest.
"But neither of these is a follower. Nor is Linux even a Godfearer. Ezra is most stubborn in his refusal to join us. In Linux, I see hints of change. But at this point, he too remains among the nonbelievers. Given those circumstances, I am not able to recommend either one of them."
Alban nodded again. "It is as you say. Neither man is suitable for Abigail."
"It is agreed, then. I shall tell both men that you have not accepted their offer."
I am safe. Abigail's hands dropped into her lap, and she lowered her eyes also so they would not give away her relief.
Alban rubbed a point on his ankle where the sandal straps must have chafed. "It may not be quite that simple. Both men have power and influence. Both represent groups looking for reason to destroy us. I would not want to unnecessarily make cause for further conflict."
"And you have a suggestion?"
Abigail felt her stomach tighten.
"I think it might be wise for Abigail and Jacob to return to Galilee with me."
Abigail saw her brother sit forward and look around, eyes wide in protest, then sink back into the shadowed recess where he was seated. She knew Jacob would fight this idea with all his being.
But Alban must have noticed Jacob's response. Abigail saw the sorrow that filled Alban's eyes as he glanced briefly at her. He continued, "I will see if I can make arrangements with the caravan driver. We are not prepared to transport a young woman, but perhaps-"
"There could be another way." Peter was stroking his beard, his fingers curling to rake through the thick growth. "You could give her in marriage to one of ours. We have several who might be suitable."
Abigail's spine stiffened in shock. Was she to be given to another man, someone else she did not know, in whom she had no interest? And what of love? She forced herself to sink back against the cool stone of the wall behind her, her whirling thoughts causing her to barely hear the ongoing discussion of her future.
"Yes," Alban was saying. Clearly the idea was pleasing to him, and he leaned forward, arms folded on the table. "Yes. That could be done. We could celebrate their betrothal before I leave. So there would be no further question."
Abigail wanted to leap to her feet and shout a refusal. But, like Jacob, she did not utter a sound, just pushed back further against the wall and tried not to weep. She could not, would not, challenge the authority of her guardian.
But Alban was speaking again. "I met a young man that impressed me greatly. What can you tell me about this fellow Stephen?"
Stephen? Abigail wanted to run and hide. Please, please, she cried inwardly, don't thrust me on Stephen. He is a fine and honorable man, but far too sensitive and caring. He would feel obligated to marry me just to save me from an unsuitable union. You don't know Stephen. A man of great faith which he puts into action daily. He totally gives of himself for others....
Abigail stopped breathing. She had just listed the qualities she would look for in a husband.
"Stephen," Peter was musing aloud. "Yes, Stephen. I couldn't have chosen better myself."
Abigail's thoughts became such a jumble she could no longer sort out what was being said. Stephen was called, and she drew back in embarrassment as he stood before the elders, even as she found herself yearning to hear what he might say.
Alban laid out the circumstances. He then asked Stephen outright if he would be willing to agree to a betrothal to Abigail.
Though her head was lowered, Abigail watched Stephen take a small step back. Then he turned and somehow found her in the shadows. Abigail saw a tenderness in his gaze, an expression she had never seen before.
"I can think of no greater honor for any man," Stephen replied. "But, sir," he said, turning back to Alban, "I have nothing to give. I am a poor man that God has called to serve. I have nothing to offer in return for such a gift. Nothing."
Alban was quick in his response. "Indeed, you have everything to offer that I wish for Abigail. Faith. Uprightness. Integrity. Good will. What are the world's riches in comparison to these? And if I'm interpreting correctly, you could also promise her love."
"Yes," said Stephen simply. "I have already learned to love her. She serves with a heart of compassion. She desires only what God is pleased to give her. Yes, I would love her."
Abigail closed her eyes and let the wonder of the moment wash over her. Stephen had expressed love for her. Before them all, he had declared his love.
There followed a spontaneous celebration of sorts. With the help of a learned elder, Alban and Peter drew up papers. Stephen was not a bit hesitant to sign the document. Abigail was drawn forward by a smiling Martha. Her down-to-
earth strength provided a heartwarming validation. Abigail stood before Peter, Alban, and Stephen with a confidence she did not quite yet feel. But when asked if this betrothal was what she wished for herself, she replied, "It is."
Peter thumped the table. "It is settled, then. On the morrow your betrothal to Stephen shall be announced."
Martha put a strong arm around Abigail, and other women came forward to embrace her and offer their blessings. Abigail felt as though their words and their heartfelt joy spilled over her like an anointing. Her eyes were so filled that when Alban stepped in front of her, she scarcely could make him out.
But it was the strong but gentle voice of her guardian that said, "Abigail, I wish you the same joy and contentment with Stephen that I have found with my Leah."
She heard herself thank him, saying something she hoped made sense. Still, she could scarcely believe it. The man she had learned to admire, the man whose steady faith had helped her own to grow, was to become her husband.
Only two things marred her happiness that night. Leah was not present to share her joy.
And Jacob had vanished into the night.
C H A P T E R
TWENTY-THREE
FOR THE FIRST TIME since he had arrived in Judea, Linux found himself without enough to do. In light of the "special assignment" he had been given, the prelate had relieved Linux of all regular duties. He still had not officially accepted the task of moving the Temple treasury into Marcellus's possession, though he had discovered the secret doorway into the Temple grounds.
Tribune Bruno Aetius was leaving Antonia Fortress on the morrow, and he was taking most of his officer corps with him. The news was passed on by the tribune's adjutant. The officer apologized, saying that the tribune had intended to speak personally with Linux. But he had been called away on an urgent matter. "The Zealots have attacked one of our outlying garrisons," the adjutant explained. He then said, "The tribune wishes you good fortune."
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