The feast Herod had promised them was a lavish affair, with rich viands of all sorts, many of them, Luke observed, belonging to the group which orthodox Jews labeled “unclean.” Herod seemed far more Roman than Jew but apparently gave lip service to the religious law of his people in order to maintain his hold over the hierarchy of priests in the Sanhedrin, through whom he controlled the country. There was music during the feast, and the sulky dancing girl whirled and stamped in a provocative dance before the king, obviously angry that another woman occupied the place of honor at Herod’s right hand. More than once Luke saw Herod’s pudgy fingers stray toward Thecla, but each time she managed to escape his touch gracefully without offending the bloated monarch.
When finally Thecla pleaded the lateness of the hour and her father’s illness as a reason for retiring, Herod let them go without protest. “I must go to Caesarea in a few days for a celebration at the theater,” he told Luke as they were leaving. “But I will want you to examine me again upon my return.”
“I plan to return to Antioch soon,” Luke protested.
“Your plans can wait,” Herod said airily. “I will pay you well, so you have nothing to lose by staying in Jerusalem.” As they were going out, the atriensis, who had charge of the slaves, handed Luke a small box, and when they opened it outside the gate, they saw that it was filled with gold. On top of the coins lay a beautiful emerald necklace, obviously for Thecla.
“Taint not your fingers with the riches of Mammon, my brothers,” a deep voice said beside them, and they looked up to see the prophet Agabus standing there. “Give the cursed gold of Agrippa to the poor he starves that his coffers may be filled.”
“We will do that, Agabus,” Luke promised. Then, obeying an impulse, he asked, “When will this disaster to Herod that you predict take place?”
“Man knoweth not the day nor the hour,” Agabus intoned, and they could get no further satisfaction from him.
When Luke was kissing Thecla good night outside her father’s room she suddenly clung to him, trembling. “Take me away, Luke,” she begged. “We can hire a carriage and leave tomorrow with father for Joppa or some of the ports to the north. The others can catch up with us later.”
He held her close, knowing the source of her fears. Naked desire and lust had burned in the eyes of Herod Agrippa tonight, and what the king desired in his own country he often took.
“Herod leaves within a few days, dearest,” he assured her. “We should be safe while he is gone, and I will try to arrange for us to go before he returns. Remember, we are Roman citizens. He cannot trouble us so long as we claim the protection of Rome.”
She shivered. “Agrippa and Claudius are friends. The emperor would not stand in his way.”
“I will speak to Barnabas,” he promised. “Perhaps we can leave sooner.”
Barnabas and Paul were in the outer room. Luke told them of his experiences with Agrippa that evening and of Thecla’s fear of him. “What would you like to do, Luke?” Barnabas asked when he finished the account.
“Thecla and I would like to take Glaucus and leave for Antioch as soon as we can,” Luke said.
“This is all Agrippa’s kingdom,” Paul objected. “He could order your arrest anywhere short of Antioch if he wished. Besides, your medical work is important here in Jerusalem, Luke. People are talking about it already, and if we can stay here a month or more, the Christians will become a powerful influence and our cause will be favored.”
“But Agrippa has threatened to arrest Peter and destroy the Christians.”
“Christ will guard us,” Paul said calmly. “It could not be the will of God that His church should be destroyed here when it has such a glorious opportunity.” Paul’s tone was confident, almost as if he believed he could speak for God Himself.
“I still think we should leave Jerusalem, Paul,” Barnabas said quietly. “God has called us to work among the Gentiles, while Peter and James have been given the Jews as their province. We should leave this region to them.”
“But they move so slowly,” Paul said in a tone of exasperation. “And James has not yet accepted God’s word that the old laws of circumcision and cleanliness have been set aside by Him.”
“Nevertheless, Thecla and Luke must be protected,” Barnabas insisted. “I will ask James to call a meeting of the elders to discuss this whole question.”
“The work of Jesus is more important than what happens to one or even two persons, Barnabas,” Paul said sharply. “If Thecla and Luke must suffer so that the word is spread more widely, they must accept it. After all, Christ suffered and died on the cross.”
When Barnabas left the room shortly, Luke and Paul were left alone together for the first time since they had come to Jerusalem. Paul’s manner tonight had been different, almost as if he were nursing a grudge, and yet Luke could not imagine how he had become offended unless it had something to do with last night, when Paul had seen Thecla in Luke’s arms. “Is anything wrong, Paul?” Luke asked, breaking the silence.
“What could be wrong, Luke?”
“I don’t know. You seem angry at me. Is it because Thecla and I became betrothed without asking your blessing?”
“Why should you ask my blessing?” Paul demanded. “You are both of age.”
“Thecla and I are both very devoted to you, Paul. And it was through you that she and Glaucus became Christians.”
“Are you going back to Iconium with Thecla and Glaucus?” Paul asked suddenly.
“For a short while. Then she and I hope to go into Bithynia to teach about Jesus and care for the sick.”
Paul went to the window and stood looking out for a moment. Then he turned to face the younger man. “Barnabas and I have hopes of great things for Christ from you, Luke,” he said. “You are well educated, a Greek, and you have influence and command respect by virtue of being the foster son of Theophilus. But if you go to Bithynia, you will be burying yourself where you can be of no help to us.”
“We would be teaching the Way of Jesus,” Luke protested.
“It is not right for a woman to preach,” Paul said positively. “And you could not enter the synagogues. Besides,” he added, “how could you preach about Jesus when you do not accept Him?”
“I believe His teachings; it is just that I am not yet ready to accept Him as the Son of God, as you do.”
“Christ died to atone for man’s sins,” Paul stated flatly. “Only through Him can man hope for eternal life. If you do not believe that, your teachings would be worthless.”
Luke did not argue the point since Paul was so adamant about it. He did not want to break with Paul over a question of theology, for he recognized that there was a bond between them, a bond cemented by the strange way in which their lives had become entwined in the past six years. Yet Paul’s manner toward him these past few days had been notably different, straining that bond.
“Is it my plan to marry Thecla that you object to, Paul?” he asked.
“If you would serve Jesus as I do,” Paul said, “there can be no thought of marrying and giving in marriage. We must all labor to prepare for His return and His kingdom.”
“But when do you think that will be?”
“I know not,” Paul admitted. “But I was called to preach the word and prepare men for His coming. Nothing else matters. Good night, Luke,” he added abruptly, and left the room.
VII
Barnabas had requested a meeting of the elders of the Church the next evening at the home of his sister Mary, the mother of Mark. Late in the afternoon Luke and Probus were working in the surgery, to which patients now came in droves, when John Mark came running, his face pale, his hands shaking. “Herod has arrested Peter and Thecla,” he gasped. “I saw the soldiers taking them away and ran to tell you.”
The forceps Luke was holding dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers. They had been expecting the arrest o
f Peter at any moment, but it seemed unbelievable that Thecla had been taken too. Then he remembered Agrippa’s manner during the feast and Thecla’s fear when Luke had held her in his arms later. Why had he listened to Paul? He could have taken a carriage that morning as reason had urged him, removing Thecla and Glaucus from the reach of Herod. But now it was too late. A disaster worse than anything he had envisioned had already struck.
“How did it happen, Mark?” Probus asked.
Mark managed to control himself enough to talk coherently. “Peter was preaching in the street, and Thecla and I were with him. Suddenly the soldiers came and arrested Peter and Thecla. I tried to go with them, but Peter sent me to you.”
“Why was Thecla arrested?”
“The soldiers refused to explain, but I heard the captain say he was glad he had found her with Peter, so they were seeking her too. They will kill Peter this time.” His voice broke again. “And Thecla too. What can we do? What can we do?”
The same question was throbbing in Luke’s brain. What could they do against the power of Herod? And Thecla’s fate would be worse than Peter’s, for the king’s actions last night left no doubt of his desire for her.
“It will take a miracle to save them,” Mark groaned, and Luke echoed the thought. But whence would come the miracle? For the moment he was too stunned to think logically.
A sad group gathered soon at the house of Mary. With Peter in prison, they naturally looked to James for guidance, but the gentle brother of Jesus could only suggest that they pray and hope for deliverance through God’s will. Paul, too, seemed dazed, as if he could not yet believe what had happened. “We must pray for God to deliver them,” he said. “It is the only way.”
“Do you believe it was God’s will that they should be taken?” Probus asked a little acidly.
Paul stared at him dully. “It must have been.”
“Then what shall we gain by asking God to release them?”
For a moment Paul did not speak, then some of his old fire kindled again in his eyes. “Are you then of so little faith, Probus, that you doubt the pattern of God’s will?” he asked, but his voice was gentler than it had been in other discussions. “Who knows? By letting them be taken and then setting them free, God may plan to show the multitudes that He can deliver men even from the power of kings and emperors.”
Probus beckoned to Luke to follow him into the garden. “We will get nothing done, Luke,” he said in disgust, “so long as Paul dominates them and believes as he does. As far as I am concerned, God helps those who help themselves. We must figure out a way to release Peter and Thecla and hide them somewhere from Herod.”
“But how, Probus?” Luke asked hopelessly, remembering how he had held Thecla in his arms in this very spot. “How shall we do it?”
“There must be a way. If it came to a bribe, I still have the emerald from the Temple of Asklepios in Pergamum.”
John Mark came into the garden and hurried over to them. “Have you thought of anything?” he asked eagerly.
Luke shook his head, and Mark groaned, “Why did it happen today? I had persuaded Peter to leave tomorrow for Joppa, where he would have been safe.”
“Why Joppa?” Probus asked. “It is also ruled by Herod.”
“Peter had a letter from Cornelius, the centurion he converted in Caesarea a few months ago, asking him to meet him in Joppa and preach to some of his friends there.”
For the first time Luke felt a faint hope stirring within him. “Cornelius might help us. He is well liked by the soldiers, and his connection with the Italian band makes him an important person in the Roman Army.”
“What could he do?” Mark asked dubiously.
“Herod goes to Caesarea within the next few days, and I am sure that he will not do anything to Peter before he returns—”
“How can you be sure, Luke?” Probus interrupted. “Herod is absolutely unpredictable.”
“He will want to make an example of Peter,” Luke explained. “And he can do that best by letting him be tried by the Sanhedrin and stoned to death or crucified. Then Herod can claim that Jesus is powerless to help even those who believe in Him. While Herod is gone, Cornelius might be able to help.”
“It sounds logical,” Probus admitted. “But what about Thecla?”
“I must go to Agrippa and try to find out something about her. He may listen to reason when I threaten to ask Theophilus and Junius Gallio to intervene through the emperor.”
All of them realized that Luke’s hope of influencing Herod had little chance of success, but no one could suggest anything better. He had no trouble gaining entrance to the palace when he presented the safe-conduct Probus had cleverly obtained. While the nomenclator was conducting him to the presence of the king he carefully replaced the tablet in his cloak, for no one knew when he might need it again.
Herod looked up from his couch when Luke was ushered into the audience chamber, and his face grew dark with anger. “How did you get into the palace?” he demanded. “Speak up, or you will feel the mercy of my faithful Geta.” A squat man with bulging muscles and an incredibly evil face stood beside the couch. He smirked now, and Luke realized that he was the infamous torturer whose name was a synonym for cruelty throughout Judea, a fit servant of an evil master.
“I am your physician,” Luke reminded Herod. “You gave orders that I was to be admitted at all times.”
“You will be admitted no more. What do you want?”
“I came to ask you to release Simon Peter and the girl Thecla who was here with me yesterday.”
“Has something happened to the lovely Thecla?” Herod inquired with exaggerated concern.
“She was arrested this afternoon with Simon Peter, on your orders,” Luke said bluntly.
“My orders?” Agrippa lifted his eyebrows in an elaborate gesture of disavowal. “I know nothing of it. You told me yourself that the lovely Thecla is a Lycaonian and a Roman citizen. Surely you, don’t believe that I would arrest her.” Beside him Geta guffawed at his master’s jest, and the slaves grinned.
“Then you deny that you have hidden her away somewhere?”
Herod’s cheeks suddenly purpled with anger. “Beware that you do not tempt me too far, Luke of Antioch,” he growled. “I might forget who your father is. Or should I say your foster father,” he added cunningly, “for I understand that you are really the brat of a common freedman.”
Luke curbed his anger, for he saw now that his only hope of getting any information about Peter and Thecla from the pudgy king lay in trapping him into revealing his plans unwittingly. “What about Simon Peter?” he asked then. “He has broken no Roman law.”
Herod shrugged. “Peter has created a disturbance by preaching an alien faith, but I will not argue the point with you. As soon as I return from Caesarea he will be tried according to Jewish law for consorting with the uncircumcised and eating unclean food.”
“His blood will be on your hands,” Luke warned, “as the blood of Jesus was on those of Pontius Pilate.”
Herod’s face suffused again with unhealthy color, and he pushed himself up from the couch to a sitting position. “I have sworn to destroy this Nazarene sect,” he screamed. “And neither you nor Junius Gallio nor anyone else will stay my hand. Now leave the palace before I have you clapped in prison!”
Luke was dejected as he left the palace, for his mission had been a failure. He had learned nothing of Thecla, except that Agrippa obviously did not intend to publicize her arrest, but to keep her for purposes of his own. And of Simon Peter he knew only that the big disciple would not die before Herod’s return. Then he thought of Agabus and went to the shack beside the gate. The old prophet was lying on a pallet, but he was not asleep. “You seek word of Peter and the girl, Luke of Antioch,” he said before Luke could question him. “They were taken to the dungeons of Herod not four hours ago.”
“Can you tell me what will be their fate?”
“Peter is the anointed of the Lord, and his time is not yet,” the old man said. “But the girl will bear you no sons.”
Luke turned away, his head bowed. There could be only one interpretation of the prophet’s words. Peter would somehow escape Herod this time. But Thecla was lost to him, just when they had discovered their love and were planning such a wonderful life together. And Manaen had said that the prophecies of Agabus always proved true.
VIII
Luke’s despondency over Thecla’s fate did not keep him from working actively for Peter’s release; he and Mark rode to Joppa that very night to seek Cornelius. The sun was high the next morning when they guided their horses across the plain before the seaport city.
Cornelius greeted them warmly. He was a commanding figure in his early fifties, with dark hair and the clean-cut features of the northern Italians, the highest type of Roman officer.
“Luke of Antioch,” the centurion repeated when Luke was presented. “I knew a boy once by that name.” Then his face broke into a smile. “Of course I remember your face now; you are the foster son of Theophilus. What of Peter?” he asked, turning to Mark. “I wrote asking him to come here if he could.”
“That is why we came,” Mark explained. “Peter is imprisoned and we need your help.”
“Agrippa has also taken my betrothed, Thecla of Iconium,” Luke added.
“So Herod finally dared lay hands on Peter.” Cornelius’s fists clenched until the marks of his nails showed in the palms. “I have been afraid this would happen, for Agrippa believes he can gain anything he wishes from the Emperor Claudius. Perhaps he is right,” he continued. “Tiberius was harsh, but just. Caligula was a monster, and this Claudius is little better. He and Agrippa were very close in Rome.”
“We were hoping you could help us,” Mark said. “But with such strong forces against us—”
Cornelius interrupted him: “When does Herod go to Caesarea for the celebration in his honor?”
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