Man of God

by Diaz, Debra

  “Your suicide letter would have led the authorities straight to Alysia…if your father hadn’t destroyed it.”

  Megara frowned. “I often wondered what happened to it, since I knew she was never arrested. My father was a fool.”

  “I was sorry to hear of his death,” Paulus said. “He was a good man.”

  “Never mind. Yes, I admit—that was my way to get back at both of you. But this way is much better.”

  Alysia started to say something, but Paulus’ hand tightened on hers and she forced herself to remain still. She could cheerfully have snatched a handful of Megara’s mousy-looking hair.

  Megara went on, “My burial instructions were these: I didn’t wish my body to be burned…I wished to be placed in a tomb in the manner of the Egyptians. Tertius pretended to take care of all the arrangements. A large doll was prepared and wrapped up like a mummy. It was put in a casket and carried through the streets. Everyone was fooled! Even Caligula!”

  “I think,” Paulus said, “everyone was familiar enough with your vanity to believe you’d rather be preserved than burned.”

  “Insult me if it pleases you, perhaps I deserve it! Anyway, I changed my appearance and went to live in another city. My slaves were instructed to watch and listen for news of you…and her. I wanted to know when you were arrested. When I didn’t hear anything for a long time I sent one of them to Jerusalem to make inquiries. You remember Lucius’ friend, Servius—he told my slave all about how you fought with Lucius over that woman, and about your child. And that was when you disappeared.”

  “But now you have found me,” Paulus said quietly. “I’d like to know how you accomplished such a feat, while the entire Roman army has failed.”

  A slight, pleased smile touched her mouth. “It was really not so difficult. Servius told me many things about you. How you were present at the execution of this Jesus of Nazareth, and that you showed sympathy to his followers. Alysia, too, was known to be one of his followers. When I heard that you had been seen in Rome, I sent my slaves to start looking for you among these…Nazarenes. Obviously that hadn’t occurred to the army, or to Caligula. Probably it’s too hard to believe that you would stoop to such a thing—I can hardly believe it myself!”

  “I’ll be glad to explain it to you.”

  “I don’t really care, Paulus. And as for finding you, once my slaves started inquiring among this sect, and provided descriptions of both of you, many were found who know you. They know where you live. They know who their fellow ‘believers’ are. I came to Rome as soon as I knew you’d been found, and discovered that not only are you a believer but you are a leader among them, and that you are known by the name Antonius. I selected Camillus and Lucia as the ones I would approach, and told them I had heard of your work and wanted to know more. They are,” she said derisively, “very trusting people.”

  “They had no reason to feel threatened by you. I’m sorry you used them in such a way.”

  “Well, you’d better hope Caligula doesn’t get wind of the fact that you’re in this cult, or he’ll find you as easily as I did.”

  Paulus released Alysia’s hand and stood up. He walked halfway down the corridor and stopped, turning back toward Megara. “Why didn’t you tell everything tonight, while you were at it? What do you want?”

  For the first time Megara looked faintly uncomfortable. “The money I took with me when I left has almost run out. And when my father died Caligula stole everything that should have been mine. He does that, you know, when wealthy people die. I was planning to write my father and tell him I was still alive…and then he just dropped dead one day! I wouldn’t be surprised if Caligula poisoned him.”

  “What makes you think I have money?”

  “You’re a very rich man, Paulus, and a clever one. You would have found a way to keep it.”

  “I don’t have any way to get the money, Megara. I did have it put in another name, but the person who got it for me is being watched now, and I don’t want to put anyone else at risk.”

  “I can get it. Write out a document and sign it, in whatever name you have placed the money.”

  “What if you are seen in the forum, and recognized?”

  “I won’t be. And I don’t think anything will happen if I am. The bloodbath over Sejanus is finished, and Caligula wouldn’t dare do anything to me. He would probably think it funny and admirable that I faked my death to get away from Tiberius.”

  “If any of the bankers know you, they might assume you’ve been helping me.”

  She said quickly, “Not if the money’s in another name. No one could guess it’s connected with you. And how could they possibly know me?”

  “A little investigation would bring out the truth, should anyone become suspicious. And if you’re recognized, you can be sure Caligula will question you about my whereabouts.”

  “I am a very convincing liar,” she answered, with a straight face, “given the right motivation.”

  “Megara, I would have given you money had you simply come to me and asked. But true to your nature, you slither in with your poisonous schemes and try to bring the world down about everybody’s feet!”

  “I’m glad I did it! Those poor trusting fools need to know what you really are! You and that—that slave!”

  Alysia got slowly to her feet with such barely-controlled rage that Megara poised herself to flee. “Get out of my house. We will not submit to your threats. Go, and take your chances with Caligula. He may not take kindly to being made to look like a fool, walking in the funeral procession of a doll—dressed as a mummy!”

  Megara stood up, clutching her cloak and veil, never taking her eyes from Alysia. “Paulus, is this your answer?”

  “Wait, Alysia.” Paulus strode forward and put his arm around his wife. Simon got up and stood by the door, ready to usher Megara out to her conveyance…if there was one. He hoped he wouldn’t be obliged to take her to wherever she was—lurking.

  “I will do as you ask, and write out a letter for you to draw a certain amount each month. But not to keep you quiet. I’ll give it to you because you are my former wife and I feel an obligation toward you. You need feel no burden to keep silent, unless your conscience bids you do so.”

  She said haughtily, “If I report you, I lose the money!”

  “I would try to arrange it so that half of it goes to you in the event of our arrest, or death. The other half to Rachel’s guardian, who will be Simon. But bear in mind that it’s very likely Caligula would take all of it, if anyone discovers it belonged to me.”

  Now Megara looked baffled, as though he had displayed some lunacy. “Why would you do that?”

  Paulus shook his head. “I’m trying to do the right thing, Megara. You make it very difficult.”

  She stared at him; he could almost see her thoughts racing. Then she looked warily at Alysia, who had stepped away from Paulus and was standing in front of the window, the breeze catching her hair and the edges of her gown. Megara watched as Paulus’ eyes went to his wife, and saw in them a look that she couldn’t define. She only knew he’d never looked at her that way. Well, Alysia didn’t seem so happy now…perhaps now their marriage would not be such rapture and bliss!

  “It will be pleasant to hold your lives in my hands,” she said. “I won’t betray you…yet.”

  ***

  Megara left after obtaining her draft to the banker, joining her slave, Tertius, who waited in a small carriage just over the incline. Simon followed soon afterward. Alysia went into Rachel’s room, but her daughter had already put out the lamp and gone to sleep…at least she seemed to be asleep. Alysia wondered how much she had heard.

  Paulus had lit a lamp in their bedroom and extinguished the ones in the hallway. He followed her inside and closed the door. The light flickered over the furnishings…the large, comfortable bed, the wooden chests, the couch against one wall, the writing table and chair.

  Alysia walked to the far end of the room and turned to face him. He saw that,
in spite of the warmth, she was shivering.

  “I’m truly sorry,” he said at once, wondering why she looked so stricken…like a mortally wounded doe. “I’m sorry that she came and brought this trouble upon us. But I don’t believe she will tell anyone. She needs that money and she knows there’s a good chance she won’t get any of it if anything happens to us.”

  “Paulus, are we really married?”

  He stared at her. “Of course we’re married! You heard what I told Megara.”

  “Then you are divorced.”

  The word hung in the air between them. After a moment of stunned disbelief, he walked toward her and grabbed her arm. “Listen to me,” he said sharply. “Once before you tried to make this a stumbling block between us when it wasn’t necessary. I don’t mean Megara herself. I mean what you perceive to be our appearance before others. We believed Megara was dead, and had no reason to even suspect otherwise. We explained this to our friends. If any of them are so weak as to let this affect their faith, then that is their problem, not ours!”

  “But some are weak! Can you not have compassion for them?”

  “Of course I can—it tears me apart to think what Megara did to them. I keep thinking about Horatius’ daughter-in-law, and how she might have been close to believing. If she sees us as hypocrites, it could stop her and turn her against the faith, and prevent her from ever listening to anyone else. But that’s just an excuse, Alysia. If such a shallow thing as the behavior of someone else could affect a person’s decision—then they are just looking for something to justify themselves! They’re not really seeking the truth.”

  “How can you not be angry with Megara? What she did is unforgivable!”

  “I am furious with her—and I said some things I shouldn’t have. But I will forgive her, because if I don’t, I only harm myself.”

  Alysia slowly removed her arm from his grasp.

  He said quietly, “I would never deliberately do anything to cause someone to stumble in their faith, Alysia. But this we cannot help. It’s done. Just pray for those in our charge, and trust God to help them understand.”

  “Maybe we should be serving God in some other way, Paulus. “

  “You mean where we don’t have to prove ourselves worthy? Well, there are none worthy, Alysia. None. We have both felt the call of God on our lives to do this, and if this is to be your attitude, you’ll wallow in misery for the rest of your life.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I’m going for a walk,” he said.

  CHAPTER VIII

  Rachel shifted impatiently, waiting at the back of the house for her father. She was dressed in the dark blue, knee-length tunic she always wore for archery practice. She pulled experimentally on the string of the bow her father had made for her; she picked up the quiver made of leather and adjusted it around her shoulder and back. She needed more arrows…these were getting dull, but she seldom asked for anything. Her father would notice, and would either sharpen them or make new ones. The bedroom door opened and Paulus came out. There was a worried frown on his face that she hadn’t seen in a long time, but it smoothed out at once when he saw her.

  “Ready?” he asked, smiling. “Have you eaten breakfast?”

  “Let’s wait until we get back. Where’s Mother?”

  “Still sleeping. Have you got everything? Where are your arm bands?”

  She grabbed the pouch lying on a table as Paulus collected his own bow and quiver full of arrows. She almost skipped with glee as they left the house and started through the woods. She’d been afraid it was going to rain, and ruin their day, but it held off and once in a while a white shaft of sunlight would pierce through the clouds. She looked forward to the time she spent with her father, and he was always generous with his time, never acting hurried or distracted—no matter how busy he was.

  Rachel had overheard enough over the years to know that her mother and father had not always been together; she knew that her mother had been married before, and that her husband had died. But Paulus had been there from her earliest memories—strong, loving, and to her…fearless, all knowing, invincible. He had been a soldier in the Roman army—but she was not to tell that to anyone. Sometimes she thought she came close to idolizing him, and then she would pray very hard, because God’s first commandment was against idolatry. Once she had heard Paulus say to someone that a father’s behavior often influenced the way their children viewed God, so maybe that was why she loved God so much.

  She loved her mother very much, too, and in spite of having lived what could only be called an “insecure” life, she felt remarkably secure and protected. Her parents did not live in fear, but they were ever watchful, and they had tried hard to make her life as normal as possible. Alysia and Paulus had taught her lessons because she couldn’t be in school, they allowed her to have friends and to visit them, they encouraged her talents at drawing and playing the lyre. Although she was much better at drawing than playing the lyre—she only did that because her mother wanted her to.

  And recently her father had decided to teach her how to use a bow and arrow, because he said that it was important for people to be able to hunt and fend for themselves if the need should ever arise. Rachel was positive she would never be able to kill an animal, but she did enjoy shooting the trees!

  They came to a small clearing edged all around with oak trees. The nearest one had a huge trunk, and Paulus had gouged out a hole in its center. He’d done the same with smaller trees here and there, to give her a sense of varying distances. They tied on their arm bands and Rachel watched carefully as Paulus took one shot, studying his stance…the steadiness of his drawing hand, the way he used his shoulder and back rather than his arm to draw the string taut, the relaxing of his fingers as they sent the arrow flying to meet its mark.

  “After you practice a few times,” he told her, “I’m going to teach you how to shoot while you’re kneeling.” He held one of her arrows out before him, examining it from the feather at one end to the point at the other. “You need some new ones,” he observed. “This one’s warped. Let me look at your bow.”

  When he was satisfied that her equipment was safe to use, he stood back and watched, retrieved her arrows and watched some more, now and then quietly correcting something she was doing wrong. Then he showed her how to go down on one knee, keeping her leg straight out behind her but positioning her upper body as if she were still standing up.

  “You’re doing very well, Rachel,” he said, and she felt happy because she knew he only gave praise when it was deserved. “Now I want you to stand again and shoot at all the trees we marked, both high and low.”

  Rachel was getting very tired but she did as he instructed, and then finally he said they could rest a while before they walked home. She sank down thankfully on the grassy clearing, and he sat cross-legged next to her. He wasn’t himself today, she thought. He’d hardly practiced at all, and his mind seemed to be a hundred miles away.

  “We forgot the water jug,” she said, lifting her long hair away from her neck. She pulled one of the laces out of an armband and tied back her hair, then busied herself putting the bands back in their pouch. “Father, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

  She had his full attention at once. “Yes, Rachel?”

  “I didn’t tell Mother, but when we were in Bethany, one of the neighbors was visiting Martha, and she said ‘That child doesn’t look anything like her father’. And everybody has always said I look like you. And Martha had the strangest look on her face. I thought she was going to cry!”

  Now her father had a strange look on his face.

  “Why do you think she said that?”

  “Maybe she was thinking about Nathan, your mother’s first husband. But she’s wrong, you know.” He grinned at her. “You do look like your father, and that’s definitely me.”

  She smiled back at him, and then he became serious again. He said slowly, “There are some things I want to talk to you about, Rachel.
You’re too young to understand some of them, and I’ll not speak of them now. But if you ever hear things, whether it’s here, or in Bethany, or anywhere…that you don’t understand, I want you to feel free to come to your mother and me, and tell us. I know you must be wondering about that woman last night, the one who wore the veil and started asking questions.”

  Rachel’s blue-green eyes met his. “Yes, sir.”

  “You’ve heard us speak of my first wife, who died. It so happens that—she didn’t die, after all.”

  Rachel gaped at him. “You mean that was her?”

  He nodded. “Yes. You know that suicide is very common here. She pretended to kill herself and managed to fool everyone. She was afraid of the emperor, and she moved to another city. But when she heard I was in Rome she came back—to cause trouble. She hates me, and Alysia. It’s a long story, Rachel…and it’s not entirely her fault.”

  “But, how can you be married to two people?”

  “I’m not. Your mother and I believed Megara was dead when we married. And so, I am divorced from Megara.”

  “Oh.”

  “Divorce is when you are no longer married to someone. Although God says that is wrong. There is an acceptable reason…but…” Paulus stopped, suddenly at a loss. “I think it’s time your mother had a certain talk with you.”

  “About what?”

  “About…life.”

  She looked at him, mystified.

  “Darling, why did you choose those verses you recited last night—out of all the ones you might have chosen?”

  Rachel tried to think back. “Oh, I don’t know. The main one I wanted to say was the one about having courage, and waiting on the Lord. But then it was as if the Lord told me to say the ones before that, too.”