The Last Sacrifice

by Hank Hanegraaff

  With her hands bound behind her back, Sophia could do nothing to protect herself. For the first time in weeks, she thought of the baby she carried. And found herself uttering a prayer.

  Christos . . .

  With that silent plea, a light seemed to fill her vision, and peace came upon her soul.

  “Stop!” This was Auspex. “Stop! What if she belongs to Helius?”

  Lucullus gave one last kick and stood over her, breathing hard.

  Sophia marveled. The darkness of the previous weeks had fallen away. She clung to her faith in the Christos. Vitas was dead, but she was responsible for his child. That would be her purpose. She uttered a silent prayer of gratitude.

  Lucullus walked away, his heavy breathing beginning to abate.

  When she opened her eyes, Lucullus was no longer in front of her but at a table, pouring wine from an amphora into three goblets.

  He took the first and gulped from it as Auspex helped her to her feet.

  Lucullus glanced at Auspex and shrugged, as if nothing had happened.

  A knock at the door.

  “Enter!” Lucullus called, obviously in a good mood now.

  Another man joined them. His eyes flashed in Sophia’s direction. She was startled to recognize him, but it took several seconds for her to remember why.

  Nero’s dinner, she thought. He was there, among the guests the night that Vitas—

  “Chayim,” Lucullus said, pointing at Sophia with the wine goblet in his hand, “my friend. Look what I’ve found for you.”

  Chayim glanced at Sophia again and shrugged. “I’m quite happy with the ones from Ephesus. Besides, this one doesn’t appear to spend much time on grooming.”

  “What a sense of humor you have, my friend. Aren’t you pleased your wait is over? You can get off this island.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Chayim answered.

  “You’re telling me this is not the woman that Helius wants captured,” Lucullus said, his voice growing ominous.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Chayim snorted. “What kind of game are you playing with me?”

  “She’s the old man’s companion! We captured her at Strabo’s cottage.”

  “I was enjoying my diversions.” Chayim, a much smaller man than Lucullus, began to grow angry at the commander. “And you called me away for this?”

  “You’re denying this is the woman you seek?”

  “And you’re suggesting I’m too stupid to remember who Helius wants?”

  “Listen to me, Jew. An old man and a woman came for the dwarf, just as if they’d once had the letter that sent them here to Patmos. I find it hard to believe—”

  “I don’t like your tone,” Chayim said. “Are you forgetting that on this island I represent Helius and Nero?”

  “Are you forgetting that on this island, I command?”

  “Nobody,” Chayim said softly, “is out of reach of Nero. Is that something you really want to forget?”

  “This is not the woman.” Lucullus appeared to be holding himself back.

  “Hardly.”

  “Then who is she?”

  Chayim shrugged. “Didn’t you tell me that more and more visitors come to the island because of some vision reported in a letter? Ask her if she is one of those religious converts.”

  Lucullus whirled on Sophia. “Are you?”

  Sophia could not understand why Chayim had lied to save her. Nor why he’d given her an excuse to explain her presence on the island. But she’d been asked a direct question and could answer it with truth.

  “I follow the Christos,” she said. “Chara follows him too. She has spoken to you of the Christos, has she not?”

  Lucullus flung his goblet across the room. “The Christos! The Christos rose from the dead! The Christos brought Chara back from her deathbed! The Christos spoke in a vision to a man exiled here! Give me the Christos and I’ll crucify him myself!”

  “I’m not impressed,” Chayim said. “You’ll understand if I go back to my diversions? Apparently they want to leave on the supply ship today, and if I have to wait on the island for another week or two, I don’t want to miss my last few hours with them.”

  “Go,” Lucullus growled at Chayim.

  As the door closed, Auspex spoke to Lucullus. “You believe him?”

  “What possible reason would he have to lie?” Lucullus said. “We’ll just have to wait longer. It’s not like he’s going to leave the island before the woman arrives.”

  “And this woman?” Auspex asked. “Have her cleaned up for your pleasure?”

  Lucullus examined Sophia.

  She waited, her knees trembling. “Bah,” he said. “Send her to the old man and get them off this island today with the whores. All this talk about the Christos has spoiled my appetite.”

  Hora Septina

  Vitas had remained motionless on the bench in the market square since John’s departure. He was so obviously lost in thought that none tried to sell him any wares.

  Before listening to John’s answer, he’d felt like a man on the edge of an abyss. After, he felt more like a deer, trembling and hidden among the trees, desperate to go down to the clear, cold water of a stream but also afraid.

  “‘For God so loved the world,’” John had said, “‘that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him.’”

  For Vitas, with each passing minute, the ache for water was beginning to outweigh the fear of stepping into the open.

  Redemption.

  It called to Vitas. His soul felt scabbed and weary. All that had given him hope before was the purity of his love for Sophia. But even that wasn’t good enough.

  Cleansing.

  The love between a man and a woman, the love between parents and child was still not a perfect love. It gave a sense of what it felt like to be loved by God, but was still stained by human imperfection, human desires.

  Peace.

  John was correct. This was not a world that Vitas could control, no matter how smart or strong or resourceful he might be. He was tired of death, tired of the killing that happened as men around him struggled for power. And to what purpose? All would die. Alexander the Great, struck down in his youth by disease after conquering the known world. Caesar, the most powerful man in the empire, betrayed and stabbed to death on the Ides of March. Augustus, dead of old age, but still as dead as any peasant and more forgotten with each passing year.

  Hope.

  John had explained that there was life beyond death with the one true God who had created mankind, a place for all men and women who believed in the Christos and were redeemed through him.

  Forgiveness.

  Vitas longed to be forgiven for the death of his son. Longed to be free of the guilt that tormented him in the depths of his soul.

  The stream called.

  And Vitas trembled.

  Could he give away control of his life, surrender to an invisible God? It screamed against everything he’d learned as a Roman but called to his soul with such sweetness. No Roman god could compare to the power of the God John worshiped. There was something miraculous about all of it, and he didn’t have to recall any further than the touch that had healed him after the whipping to sense the mysterious beyond his five senses. Yes, the evidence for faith in the Christos was becoming harder and harder to deny.

  Vitas sat on the bench, barely aware of any noise around him, of the heat of the sun or the smell of the vegetables and raw chicken and fish of the market.

  Could he do it?

  A hand touched his shoulder.

  “You’re off on another journey then,” Strabo said to Ben-Aryeh. “Ephesus to find a copy of John’s letter, then wherever the coded letter takes you.”

  They stood on the hillside, near the cottage. Several goats were staked nearby.

  “Sophia has no home in Rome, and her husband is
dead,” Ben-Aryeh answered. “Someone in Rome has gone to a lot of effort to make sure Sophia has the letter from Akakios. Where else is there to go but where it leads us?”

  The strange letter flashed into Ben-Aryeh’s thoughts, for he had memorized it already:

  You know the beast you must escape; the one with understanding will solve the number of this beast, for it is the number of a man. His number is 666. You have fled the city of this beast, from the sea it came and on the sea you go. North and west of the city of the second beast, find the first of five kings who have fallen. (The sixth now reigns, and the seventh is yet to come.)

  Then go to the woman clothed in finest purple and scarlet linens, decked out with gold and precious stones and pearls. She is the one who slaughtered God’s people all over the world. Find the Synagogue of Satan, at the end of the Sabbath, and stand at the gate closest to the den of robbers. Persevere and you will find your reward.

  “I want to ask you for something,” Strabo said, interrupting Ben-Aryeh’s thoughts. “When you find out who has sent you on this journey and why, send me a letter telling me what has happened.”

  “You can’t read.”

  “Chara can.”

  “Maybe this letter is one she’ll tell you about,” Ben-Aryeh said with a smile.

  “Yes. If I would have known about Akakios, that would have changed things.” Strabo looked at the sea, then back at Ben-Aryeh. “I owe you my life.”

  “Nonsense.” Ben-Aryeh craned his head to look up the hill at the cottage. “How long does it take for two women to say good-bye?”

  “Really, Lucullus had a bloodlust in him. If you hadn’t stepped out when you did—”

  “Doesn’t Sophia have any sense of urgency?” Ben-Aryeh said, avoiding Strabo’s eyes. “It’s a week or two before the next supply ship.”

  “You had no idea you would be released,” Strabo said. “You were sacrificing yourself for me.”

  Ben-Aryeh sighed and faced Strabo squarely. “Why would I care about a stubborn, opinionated man who constantly smells of goat? I did it for Sophia.”

  “That explains it,” Strabo said. “At least I don’t owe you any gratitude.”

  “Certainly not.” Another sigh. “Where is that woman?”

  “They were talking about babies when I left them,” Strabo answered. He waited a few seconds. “How exactly did you think letting the soldiers capture you would help Sophia?”

  “There was no way off the island anyway, and I wanted to force her to make a choice. With me in prison, she could flee the soldiers or join me to protect your family. Either way, it would take her out of the half death she’d been living for weeks. Do you have any idea how miserable a woman in that condition can make a man?”

  “No.”

  “Pray it never happens to you. If you think goats are difficult—”

  “I mean, no, I don’t believe your excuse. It’s turned out that way, and I’ll agree Sophia has life in her again. But I think you really did it to rescue me from Lucullus.”

  “So that we could share a moment like this? Hardly.”

  “I won’t see you again,” Strabo said. He paused. “A man like me, well, I don’t have many friends.”

  “Nor do I, my friend.” Ben-Aryeh smiled sadly. “Nor do I.”

  “Vitas! Where is John?”

  It took Vitas a moment to place himself, to come out of the timelessness that had offered such weightless freedom.

  “Damian,” Vitas said. Slowly he stood and faced his brother. Jerome was behind Damian, watching with the inscrutability that added to the man’s intimidation.

  “Where is John? You promised both of you would be here.”

  “No,” Vitas said. “I never made that promise. You simply ordered both of us to meet you.”

  “Surely you didn’t let the man walk away.”

  “You would hand him over to Helius and certain death.”

  “I’m a bounty hunter. Am I responsible for the choices he’s made to defy Nero?”

  “You’re aware I’ve defied Nero.”

  “You’re my brother. Nor have I been paid to capture you.”

  “And if you were?”

  “I owe you my life,” Damian said.

  “That’s no answer. Repay me by letting John go in peace.”

  “But I’ve just saved you,” Damian protested. “That makes us even.”

  “Then I’ll be in your debt. Let the man go.”

  “John is worth a lot of money to me. But it’s more than that. I’m the best. No one has ever escaped me.”

  “Nor did John,” Vitas said.

  “But Jerome and I will be the only ones to know this.”

  Vitas smiled. “Take pride in that.”

  “Where is he?” Damian said.

  “Brother,” Vitas answered, “please don’t push me to the point where I have to refuse to answer you.”

  “So you know where he is?”

  “I do.”

  Vitas could see the conflict cross Damian’s face and said nothing. He could not force his brother into any decision.

  “All right then,” Damian said. “I’ll return to Rome and search for him there. Fruitlessly.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What will you do?” Damian asked.

  Again, Vitas was aware of the concentrated stare of Jerome. The man had intelligence; that much was obvious in his eyes. He would be a terrifying enemy.

  “It’s certain death to return to Rome,” Vitas answered. He thought of his decision and the prayer he would make at the first private moment ahead. “I’m tired of the empire. Of the politics. Of the battles. The revolts and intrigue.”

  In saying it, he realized how true it was. He had three pieces of scroll with instructions from men in Rome with power, men who wanted Vitas to survive. Unlike Piso. The implication was very strong. But like Piso’s coconspirators, those unseen, unknown men wanted Vitas to help them against Nero.

  He was done with that.

  “I want a simple, peaceful life,” Vitas said. “With my wife.”

  Damian frowned at Vitas, but Vitas was so sure of his decision that he didn’t take note of it.

  “When you return to Rome,” Vitas said, “please find a way to smuggle a letter to Sophia. Let her know I’m alive and waiting in Alexandria.”

  “Sophia,” Damian repeated. Again, Vitas did not take notice of his brother’s frown.

  “If you could arrange for her to secretly board a grain ship coming here, we would be in your debt for all our lives.”

  “I thought you knew,” Damian said. He looked at the ground.

  To Vitas, a cold wind suddenly sucked all the air from inside him. Without asking, he knew what Damian would say next. “I did not know.”

  “Brother . . .”

  With the coldness that filled Vitas came a hardness of soul. He straightened. He was a Roman.

  “Don’t pretend I’m weak,” Vitas said. “Tell me.”

  “Nero invited her to open her veins.”

  The peace and calm that had warmed the soul of Vitas became an icy hatred. “Helius betrayed me. He promised . . .”

  Vitas closed his eyes. With the hatred, he was growing stronger, more resolved. He let the hatred push aside images of Sophia, his love for her.

  “I will destroy that man,” Vitas said. “And the man he serves.” With both hands, Vitas grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “Help me. Don’t return to Rome. Join me.”

  “Are you talking sedition?”

  “There are powerful men in Rome willing to help,” Vitas said. “How much power do you think you could grab if you joined us now?”

  Damian grinned.

  “Listen. I have all three pieces of my message here.” Vitas withdrew the scroll from his tunic. “Let me read it to you. It’s from the men in Rome who saved me from the arena to conspire against Nero.”

  Damian cocked his head.

  Vitas read aloud from the beginning:

  “You know the be
ast you must escape; the one with understanding will solve the number of this beast, for it is the number of a man. His number is 666. You have fled the city of this beast, from the sea it came and on the sea you go. North and west of the city of the second beast, find the first of five kings who have fallen. (The sixth now reigns, and the seventh is yet to come.) There will be two witnesses, killed yet brought alive. Find them and rejoice with them, then take what is given.

  Then go to the woman clothed in finest purple and scarlet linens, decked out with gold and precious stones and pearls. She is the one who slaughtered God’s people all over the world. Find the Synagogue of Satan, at the end of the Sabbath, and stand at the gate closest to the den of robbers. Persevere and—”

  “Stop!” Damian said. “What is this?”

  “When we decipher it—all of it—we’ll have our answer. And, I suspect, the key to ending Nero’s reign.”

  “You suspect? That’s all you have. A guess. Not certainty? Remember, I’ve sworn off gambling.”

  “An elaborate conspiracy brought me this far,” Vitas said. “The end of the journey must have, as promised, a great reward.” He grinned back at his brother. Coldly, feeling his hatred for Helius, but still a grin. “Aren’t you the one always looking for adventure?”

  “And women,” Damian said. “Don’t forget women.”

  “Then come with me.” The hunger for revenge felt good to Vitas. Later he would mourn Sophia. But for now, he had a purpose that could set aside the weakness of grief. He would not be that trembling deer, thirsty for a clear pool of water in a quiet forest. But a stalking lion determined to drink the hot blood of an enemy torn in pieces. “And bring Jerome. We’ll need a man like him.”

  “Come with you,” Damian said, appearing to warm to the idea. “Any guesses where next?”

  “Caesarea.” Later he would tell Damian how John had interpreted the symbols for him. “Then Jerusalem.”

  “Jerusalem! We’ll rejoin Maglorius.”

  “Jerusalem,” Vitas repeated. The icy fire in him would sustain him until he could wrap his fingers around the neck of Helius and choke the life from him.

  “Why not?” Damian said. “We’ve got Jerome to protect us. We’re Romans. We rule the world. What kind of danger could be ahead of us there?”