The Road to Bithynia: A Novel of Luke, the Beloved Physician

by Frank G. Slaughter

  “You may be right, Probus. And yet if credit is due something or someone else, I would not withhold it.”

  Probus put away the tablet. “So long as you yourself know that your own skill and knowledge of medicine saved him, I am satisfied,” he said. “How long do you propose to remain in Tarsus?”

  “Apollonius will not be able to travel for several weeks, at least.”

  “Why not leave him here until he is entirely well, then. Theophilus will gladly pay Ananias for his care, and Apollonius would just as soon stay close to that girl. Besides, we really should go on to Antioch and notify the governor of Sergius’s needs.”

  Luke recognized the logic of Probus’s arguments, and when he broached to Apollonius and Mariamne the question of the tribune’s staying on there, he found no objection. “In fact,” Apollonius said with a smile as he put his arm about the slender waist of the girl beside the couch, “I was just telling Mariamne that she and I will always be indebted to you, Luke. If you had not remembered that Ananias was now living in Tarsus, I might not have found her. I have asked Mariamne to marry me, Luke. And she has agreed, if my father consents. We want you to plead our case with him in Antioch.”

  “Perhaps you and Luke could discuss this better without me,” Mariamne suggested. “I will go and make preparations for the evening meal.” Before they could protest, she was gone.

  “Have you considered how Theophilus will feel about this?” Luke asked. “After all, Mariamne is part Jewish and her father is an artisan, a mere weaver, and a follower of Jesus besides.”

  “Would that make any difference to you, Luke?”

  “No. But my father was a freedman and before that a slave of your grandfather. Theophilus is one of the noblest judges in the Roman Empire, and you are his heir.”

  “I would still wager on your judgment,” Apollonius insisted. “You picked Mariamne first, remember. She has told me of your friendship in Damascus.”

  Luke smiled. “Then all will be well, I am sure. I might even persuade Theophilus to come here and see for himself what kind of people Mariamne and her father are.”

  “What do you think cured me, Luke?” Apollonius asked.

  “It could have been a miracle,” Luke admitted. “Mariamne and her father and Saul believe that it was. But Probus has discovered a case recorded in the writings of Hippocrates which closely parallels your own. This patient improved after bleeding, as you did.”

  “But you do not deny that it could have been a direct intervention by Jesus or God, as they believe?”

  Luke smiled. “The important thing is that you are well; that is enough for me.”

  “Would it surprise you that I am near to believing as Mariamne and Ananias do?” Apollonius asked.

  “You could do much worse,” Luke said sincerely. “The teachings of the Galilean are the finest set of principles a man could wish to live by.”

  “Then why do you not believe in Jesus, Luke?”

  “This sect believes Jesus lived after death and that He is the Son of Jehovah,” Luke explained. “They even say that He will someday return to rule over the world. But all of my studies in science tell me that such a thing is impossible and that there are no gods.”

  Apollonius shook his head in bewilderment. “You were always too deep for me, Luke. I prefer to leave such questions to philosophers, but I love Mariamne and I find it easy to believe as she does.”

  “Then you cannot go wrong,” Luke told him, smiling. “If there is a god over everything, the love of a man for the woman who will bear his children must spring from him. And if there is none, then love is the only force that can bind everyone together in happiness.”

  Luke had one more duty to perform before he sailed for Antioch. He must see Saul and express his appreciation for the tentmaker’s efforts in behalf of Apollonius, whether or not he believed that they had been effective. He had no trouble finding the shop where Saul plied his trade, but Saul was not in the shop. While he waited Luke watched the men spin the tough fabric of goat’s hair called cilicium, after the name of the province, and making it into the tents for which Tarsus was famous.

  In the back of the shop the spinners worked, making threads from the tough goat hair. A treadle kept the crude machines spinning while the operator moved his arms backward and forward, advancing and retreating from the hardened point upon which the wisps of hair were twisted into a continuous thread so strong that a man could hardly break it with his hands.

  In the center of the shop the weavers worked, sitting at ground level under their looms, with their legs in a pit over which the heavy machines rested. The yarn beams were of the weighted type which had been weaving cilicium here for a thousand years, and the shuttle flew back and forth in the skilled hands of the weavers almost faster than Luke could see. At the top of the loom the fabric was rolled up on a wooden spool as it was woven, ready to be transferred to the tables of the tentmakers, who cut and sewed the cloth into the finished product.

  While Luke was watching the men as they stitched, Saul came in. “Welcome to the Street of the Tentmakers, Luke,” he said in greeting. “How is the health of the noble Apollonius?”

  “He rests well and gains daily although smitten with love.”

  “For the gentle Mariamne? I noticed that when I was last at the house. How will the noble Theophilus take the idea of his son marrying a Jewess?”

  “I don’t know,” Luke admitted. “Apollonius and Mariamne have commissioned me to plead for them.”

  “Then they can be sure of an eloquent advocate,” Saul said, smiling. “But the kingdom of the Master may come at any moment, and then there will be no marriage or giving in marriage.”

  Startled by Saul’s statement, Luke asked, “Do you really believe Jesus will reign on earth, as some have claimed?”

  “The earth is the Lord’s, why should His Son not rule over it?”

  “I haven’t thought much about it,” Luke admitted. “But I judged from the scroll of His sayings that Jesus was referring to a spiritual kingdom.”

  “Why not both?” Saul demanded. “Would the Son of God bow down to earthly rulers?” Then he smiled. “Mere man cannot understand the inscrutable working of God’s will, Luke. I am sure that the Lord has something more in store for me than to weave tents in Tarsus just as sure as I am that it was the will and plan of God that we should meet again here in Damascus.”

  “But logic tells me there is no god and that a human being could not be his son.”

  “No man knows God or His Son in his mind alone, Luke, but in his heart as well. You need not seek to prove His existence through logic. When you are ready to know Jesus as the Savior of mankind, be assured that He will be revealed to you in the only place where you can know Him, in your heart. Tell me,” he continued, “have you seen or heard anything else of the scroll that contained the sayings of Jesus?”

  “Not since I gave it to you on the road to Damascus. Did you lose it?”

  “No. When I returned from the wilderness, I journeyed to Jerusalem and gave the scroll to Simon Peter. Later I heard that it had been lost.”

  “Do you think it may have been destroyed?”

  “The words of Jesus can never be destroyed so long as they are written in the hearts of men, Luke.” Saul smiled and held out his hand. “Good-bye, Luke. Go your way, but rest assured that our paths will cross again. You and I have been chosen as agents of God’s will; perhaps the pattern of that will may be revealed to us soon.”

  Two days later Luke and Probus sailed from Tarsus on a coastal sailing vessel bound across the Gulf of Issus for Syrian Antioch. With him Luke carried a letter from Apollonius telling his father of his decision to become a follower of Jesus and to marry Mariamne.

  X

  Theophilus looked at Luke with incredulous eyes. “Apollonius marrying a Jewess? Has he lost his mind?”

  “Not his m
ind, but his heart,” Luke said. “And you will lose yours when you know Mariamne.”

  The gray-haired jurist sat down and put his hand to his forehead. “How soon is this wedding to take place?”

  “They have set no date. Mariamne refuses to be wed without your consent.”

  Theophilus shook his head. “I have always tried to be a good and tolerant father to both of you. But for my son to marry a Jewess. . . . I must think.”

  “Apollonius also plans to become a follower of Jesus of Nazareth,” Luke added, but to his surprise Theophilus did not seem to be disturbed by this information.

  “Silvanus was a believer in the Galilean,” the jurist said. “I myself lean toward the worship of Mithras, as do most Romans outside of Rome today, but there are many fine people here in Antioch who have espoused the Nazarene faith.” He stood up. “We will talk more about Apollonius and this girl—what is her name again?”

  “Mariamne. She was named for a very beautiful Jewish queen.”

  “I remember now. One of the Herods had her murdered. But we had better get to the bath if we are not to be late for the dinner at Junius Gallio’s apartment.”

  “What brings Gallio to Antioch?” Luke asked while they soaked themselves in the tepidarium before being rubbed by the balneator, a slave trained particularly in massage. As deputy governor of Syria, Theophilus occupied a lesser palace on the insula, the island formed by the division of the river Orontes on the northern side of Antioch which housed the palaces of the governor and other officials and the administrative center of the province. The baths in the palace of Theophilus were not so elaborate as those of the governor, Petronius, or those which a triumphant Caesar had built on the side of Mount Silpius to the south, but they sufficed for the simple needs of Theophilus and the members of his establishment.

  Now that he was back in Antioch, Luke found it pleasant to take up once more the familiar routine which he had left five years before to begin his studies of medicine at Pergamum. There were deft servants to attend every need and cool breezes from the river to refresh them as they sat at dinner in the evening. And as the foster son of the deputy governor, Luke was invited to the frequent entertainments and feasts at the governor’s palace and the luxurious homes of the richer Antiochians who lived along the bank of the river within sight of the island.

  Theophilus emerged from the water and entrusted himself to the hands of the balneator, who began to rub his body with fragrant oils. “Junius Gallio is something rare in the Roman Empire these days,” he said as Luke seated himself on a bench to await his own turn at the hands of the deft slave. “He is a statesman, but more attached to the empire than to bettering his own fortunes. The emperor trusts him explicitly and keeps him busy with special missions.”

  When his own massage was finished, the older man waited while Luke’s strong young body was pummeled and kneaded. “I haven’t asked about your plans, Luke,” he said almost hesitantly. “Do you expect to return to the army?”

  “No. Military medicine requires little skill, except in dressing wounds and an occasional surgical operation. I had thought of setting up as a physician in some city.”

  “Why not Antioch?” Theophilus asked, his eyes lighting up. “You could continue to live here with me then.”

  Luke smiled. “I did have Antioch in mind.”

  “Then it is settled,” Theophilus said happily. “There is a small building at the edge of the grounds which is unused; it would make a fine surgery for you. And its proximity to the palace will certainly not hurt your practice.” He looked at the water clock and exclaimed. “We must hurry! Gallio is expecting us in less than an hour.”

  Junius Annaeus Gallio was a small, roly-poly man with twinkling, deep-set gray eyes. Although a brother of the Stoic philosopher Seneca and of Mela, father of Lucan, the poet, Gallio had no need to bask in the reputations of his kinsmen. He was seated in the atrium of the luxurious palace apartment which had been placed at his disposal by the governor, his bandaged foot extended upon a cushion. “A thousand apologies for not being able to accept your hospitality, Theophilus,” he said in greeting. “But I cannot get about with a toe which seems inhabited by a legion of devils.”

  Theophilus introduced Luke. “So you are a physician.” Gallio’s face brightened. “Can you cure the gout?”

  “I treated Sergius Paulus with a new drug,” Luke admitted, “and was able to give him some relief.”

  “By Mithras!” Gallio exclaimed. “Where can I get this preparation?”

  “A friend of mine, one Probus Maximus, is opening an apothecary shop near the palace. I will visit him in the morning and order a supply for you.”

  “Good! Good!” Gallio rubbed his hands. “Then maybe I can get on with my travels. By the way,” he continued, “you spoke of Sergius Paulus. When did you treat him?”

  Luke told of his experience with the army, and Gallio questioned him shrewdly. “You have saved me a trip to the front, Luke,” he said finally. “The emperor asked me to report on this affair with the Paphlagonians. From what you say, Sergius has saved us from a serious defeat.”

  “I am sure of it,” Luke agreed.

  “I will report as much to the emperor before I leave for Cilicia,” Gallio stated. “Sergius Paulus and I are friends, but his enemies are circulating rumors that he has failed miserably in Paphlagonia, and Rome is always ready to believe the worst of its generals in the field.”

  “If you are going on to Cilicia, Junius,” Theophilus said, “perhaps I shall join you. Luke brings me the disquieting news that my son Apollonius is planning to marry a Jewess in Tarsus.”

  “A Jewess!” Gallio exclaimed. “She must be rich.” The office of tribune in the Roman Army carried a relatively modest stipend but a high social position in military circles, so the young officers nearly always made advantageous marriages.

  “No,” Luke volunteered. “She is the daughter of a weaver.”

  “The weavers are influential in Tarsus, almost as much as the silversmiths in Ephesus.”

  “Ananias is a follower of Jesus of Nazareth,” Luke explained. “And that sect does not believe in the accumulation of great wealth.”

  “Hah!” The ambassador’s eyes lit up. “Do you know much of these Nazarenes, Luke?”

  “A little, sir. I have met a number of them in my travels.”

  “Isn’t this faith spreading rather rapidly for a mystery cult?”

  “I know very little about the mystery religions,” Luke admitted. “But it seems to me that the beliefs of the followers of Jesus are different from the others, such as those of Mithras, for example.”

  “I had already decided as much,” Gallio agreed. “The emperor is very much interested in the Nazarenes, since there has already been trouble in the empire because of them.”

  “Petronius has condemned a number of members of this sect to death,” Theophilus added. “They refused to be conscripted for military service and affirm allegiance to the emperor. I advised against such a penalty, but he felt that he must make an example of them.”

  “My interest in the Nazarenes is more than a casual one,” Gallio admitted. “The emperor has been informed that they teach the coming of a leader who will overthrow the empire and set up a new kingdom in which the Jews will rule the world.”

  “Jesus taught nothing of the kind, sir,” Luke said earnestly. “I have studied a scroll of His sayings, and they contained no such statements.”

  The ambassador’s eyes brightened. “Do you still have the scroll? I would like to read it.”

  Luke shook his head, but Theophilus said, “Tell Gallio of your experiences with the scroll, Luke. I have heard Silvanus speak of them.”

  Luke told the story again and gave Gallio a brief description of the teachings of Jesus. “There is nothing in them that many Greek philosophers, even my brother Seneca, have not said before,” Gallio said w
hen he finished.

  “Both Plato and Socrates taught similar truths,” Theophilus agreed.

  “Whence comes this talk of destroying the Roman Empire and setting up another?” Gallio asked. “It seems to me that Jesus was merely another philosopher.”

  “The Jews believe they are a chosen race,” Luke explained, “and that their God, Jehovah, will one day rule over the world. Some of their prophets told of the coming of a Son of Jehovah that they call the Messiah, and the followers of Jesus think He is that Son.”

  “Is?” Gallio echoed. “Was He not crucified? I can hardly see an all-powerful god letting that happen to his son.”

  “I think the Jews who follow Jesus have confused the teachings of a great and good man with their prophecies about a Messiah who would rule the world,” Luke explained.

  The ambassador sighed. “It is the same everywhere. Why are these small countries not content to be simply parts of the Roman Empire? Even Herod Agrippa would betray us if he could, so he plays the different factions among the Jews against each other in order to gain power for himself. It was he who reported that the Nazarene sect is stirring up the Jews to revolt.”

  “Then they are not following the teachings of Jesus,” Luke assured Gallio. “He taught only that people should help and love one another and respect the dignity of the individual.”

  “I shall write the emperor tomorrow, then,” Gallio said happily. “You have told me what I need to know. Now I can have a holiday in peace.”

  But as he walked home with Theophilus after the dinner, Luke’s thoughts were troubled. For he had failed to tell the ambassador of his last conversation with Saul of Tarsus and he remembered now the short, dynamic preacher’s words: “Since the earth is the Lord’s, why should His Son not rule over it?” And again, “Would the Son of God bow down to earthly rulers?”