Man of God

by Diaz, Debra

  “It is enough!” the old man said heavily. “This man you told me of, this Jesus of Nazareth, is just a dead Jew who was rumored to come alive again. What can he have to do with me? I am a Roman, and I will die as befitting a Roman.”

  His son said miserably, “My father, I beg you, do not let your pride send you to hell!”

  Again the man fell silent, and Paulus could feel the great struggle in the room, unseen by human eyes, a struggle in the realm of spirit between good and evil. He bowed his head and prayed, but he knew it was too late.

  “Leave me,” Avitus said. But neither of them moved, and Paulus wondered to whom he was actually speaking, for his eyes had a strange and faraway look…suddenly, though, they were flat, and fixed, and his spirit was gone.

  Camillus leaned his elbows on the bed, put his hands over his face, and wept. Paulus sat for a long time, filled with despair and a crushing sense of failure. Finally he rose and walked across the room to lay his hand for a moment on Camillus’ shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “He chose it,” Camillus answered. “He had his own way. He always did.”

  When Paulus left the room everyone waiting in the hallway looked at him expectantly. He shook his head, and Lucia began crying softly. He embraced her, and with a heavy heart, left the house.

  * * *

  Alysia drew the bucket from the well, poured the water into a jug, and walked to the front of the house where she had planted a bed of flowers. She poured the water over them and wondered what would happen to them while she and Paulus and Rachel were away—there had been very little rain lately.

  It still didn’t seem possible that they were actually going to Horatius’ villa for a short while; she’d thought, after all that had happened since her return from Bethany, that they’d never be able to leave Rome again. But Horatius had approached Paulus the night of Megara’s visit and proposed that they do just that…they needed to get away as a family, Horatius said, and he was convinced that God had put the idea into his head.

  Major work had ceased on the aqueduct for a while; it seemed that extreme heat prevented proper absorption of the mortar used in its construction. A few crews remained to do odd jobs, and Paulus had made an agreement with the contractor to oversee some things as soon as he returned. Aquila and Priscilla offered to hold meetings at their own house, so that problem was solved. Alysia’s students would have a short respite from their lessons.

  As for the risk in passing through the gate when they left Rome, Horatius insisted they use his own carriage, and said if they passed through the Porta Capena the guards there would recognize it, and probably not even glance inside due to the heaviness of traffic on the Appian Way. And, he said, they would just have to trust God. She and Paulus had prayed long hours over it, and both felt that, for whatever reason, this was indeed what God wanted them to do.

  Alysia couldn’t help smiling with anticipation. She poured out the last of the water and was about to return to the well when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned quickly and saw a lithe figure in a bright red gown sauntering down the lane toward her.

  “Daphne!” she said, as the young woman drew closer. “How good it is to see you. We’ve been missing you!”

  “Hello, Alysia.” Daphne was sweating; she sat down abruptly on a stair leading to the small, brick portico. Even in her disheveled state she looked beautiful and appealing; Alysia glanced self-consciously at the mud staining the old gown she wore to work outside.

  “Oh, it is sweltering—how can you stand it out here in the sun, Alysia?”

  “Come inside and let me get you something to drink.”

  “In a moment, if you please. You see I’ve brought my bag. Your husband asked me to come and stay for a while.”

  Alysia managed to hide her surprise, and noticed the way Daphne glanced at her from underneath her long black lashes. She seemed to be waiting for Alysia’s response.

  “Of course, Daphne. We’ll be happy to have you here. May I ask, is anything wrong?”

  “Well, Antonius got it out of me. I’ve left the family he convinced to hire me, and I was about to go back to my old ways.

  “You mean—but why, Daphne?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I told him you wouldn’t understand.”

  Alysia’s thoughts raced. Paulus obviously believed Daphne would benefit from talking to her, if she could be persuaded to talk, and he was trying to forestall Daphne’s decision to reenter prostitution by having her accompany them to the country. That must have been his intention if he had invited her to “stay for a while.”

  She placed the heavy jug on the ground and sat down on the step just below Daphne, turning slightly so she could look up at her. The girl’s gaze was guarded and her body tense.

  “Daphne,” she began soberly, “I am probably about ten years older than you are, and I’ve been through a few things in my life. I won’t pretend to know how you feel, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t understand. I don’t think you would have come if you had no intention of talking to me. Please try to tell me why you would want to go back to your old life. You admitted it was wrong the first time you came here.”

  Daphne plucked at the edge of her stola. “You are a beautiful woman, Alysia. You know how it is with men. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told what I was, the night of the meeting—Antonius tried to stop me. But I thought it must be so obvious…I thought everyone would know. And now everyone looks at me a certain way, or they avoid me altogether. How am I to forget what I’ve been?”

  Alysia felt a wave of deep compassion. “Yes, Daphne, I know how it is with men. But the believers here are not perfect—we are all only human. I truly don’t think they realize how they are looking at you…or not, as the case may be. And the ones who avoid you are probably only trying to avoid being tempted by your beauty, not because of what you were.” Her lips curved up a little and she added, “Or they are trying to avoid an elbow in the ribs—from their wives.”

  Daphne thought about that, and laughed. “Women have always been jealous of me!”

  “Well, it may not be jealousy…exactly. But I know what you mean. Perhaps the solution is for you to go to a place where no one knows of your past, so you won’t always be reminded of it.”

  “That’s one reason I agreed to go with you to the country. Just to see how it would be.”

  “At least it will be a time for reflection…before you do anything you will regret.”

  Daphne answered thoughtfully. “Yes, Alysia. I hope so.”

  * * *

  Paulus’ mood was dark as he walked swiftly through the streets toward his house. Recklessly he let the hood fall back from his head…it was too hot for it, and what did it matter if some overly zealous soldier recognized him? He’d almost welcome a fight in his present frame of mind. Someone grabbed his arm and he turned, his fist clenched, but he relaxed when he saw Simon looking back at him.

  “What’s your hurry?” Simon asked, giving him a searching look. “Slow down, won’t you…I’ve got an ache in my side from trying to catch up with you.”

  “Age, no doubt,” Paulus said shortly, but he slowed his pace.

  “I’m a few years younger than you, as I recall. What’s the matter, Paulus? For a moment I thought you were going to hit me.”

  “Sorry.” The two men kept walking…the streets were less congested, for many Romans were napping at this hour of the day. Paulus said nothing further, and his friend remained silent until Paulus glanced at him at little ruefully.

  “All right, I’ll just say it. Maybe Alysia was right, Simon. You don’t know what she said but…maybe we’re not supposed to be here. She’s worn out with hiding, and so am I. How much better it would be if we could just go and live peaceably in the country—on a farm—raising animals, perhaps, and growing our own food. Worshiping God in our own way. I’m doing no good here; my witness and credibility are compromised. I’m thinking of leaving Rome.”

  Afte
r a moment Simon said, “This is not like you, Paulus. Avitus’ death has disturbed you greatly. What else has happened to discourage you?”

  Paulus shook his head. “It’s not discouragement, Simon. It’s the plain truth. I think our work here is done.”

  “Did God tell you this?”

  He answered, after a long pause, “Not yet.”

  They were forced to come almost to a halt as a group of people walking together blocked them from passing. Simon said thoughtfully, “You can’t be blamed for being tired, you and Alysia. It’s bound to be a strain, having to watch over your shoulder all the time, always wondering who is friend and who is foe. Not to mention the responsibilities both of you bear. I think this trip to the country is exactly what you need.”

  Paulus managed to find a wedge between the people in front of them and passed through, with Simon following. They fell into step again.

  “As for your credibility—you’re speaking of what Megara did, aren’t you? You and I are both bound by former spouses through no fault of our own—let those who hate us make the most of it!”

  “That’s easy to say, Simon. But it does make a difference.”

  Simon didn’t answer but went on, “And Avitus dying in his sins…not everyone will accept the truth, Paulus, and you can no more take the blame for that than you can take the credit when they do accept it. It is God who saves, not you.”

  Paulus stopped abruptly and looked at him.

  Simon said earnestly, “Once in the darkest days of my life you lifted me up and encouraged me…and led me to the Lord, the greatest day of my life. And so, now I am about to tell you, not to soothe your wounded pride but to give you the same encouragement you once gave me…You have spread the word of God from Jerusalem to this place, and in Rome you have planted seeds that will grow and be harvested in God’s own time. You have not claimed leadership, but out of necessity you have become a leader. You call yourself neither preacher nor deacon nor bishop, yet you have begun a chain of events that cannot be stopped. Even when you are dead, unless God wills it.”

  Paulus kept looking at him as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

  Simon urged, “Well, come on, before those laggards catch up with us.”

  They started walking again. After a while Paulus said, his voice rough, “You are a true friend, Simon.”

  “Why—because I tell the truth? Someday you may not like what I have to say.”

  “It is God who saves. I’d almost forgotten that.”

  “You have always been humble in your faith, Paulus. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. But our own efforts are not enough. How could a mere man give another eternal life—unless he is also the son of God! We can show the way, and the rest is up to him.”

  “Agreed. Simon, I met Daphne today. She’s in trouble.”

  “Daphne—what kind of trouble?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but please ask the others to pray for her. She’s going to the country with us.”

  Simon glanced at him but said nothing.

  “Why don’t you come, and bring your family? There’s room for at least fifty, from the sound of it!”

  Simon hesitated, then shook his head and grinned. “Thank you, Paulus. But some of us have to work for our livelihood.”

  CHAPTER X

  Alysia exchanged a look with Paulus as the horse-drawn carriage rolled smoothly through the gate. Distracted and irritated by the many beggars who congregated within its shady interior, the guards waved on the opulent, elaborately carved vehicle without so much as glancing inside. Even at this early hour, traffic flowed steadily down the Appian Way. Burial monuments lined the road—huge ones and small ones, extravagant and plain, seeming to stretch on for miles.

  Across from Paulus and Alysia, in their own padded seats, Rachel and Daphne visibly relaxed as the city disappeared behind them. Paulus had warned Daphne that “people” might be looking for them, and it might not bode well with her to be caught in their company. Daphne had laughed and said, “No one will bother with me, and they’ll certainly wonder about the company you keep!”

  The sun appeared on the horizon, dispelling the blue shadows and casting its aureate glow over the countryside. Alysia settled comfortably next to Paulus, her arm linked through his, and gazed through the large opening on the side. A horseman galloped past them, probably someone on government business; there were traders and merchants with their overloaded wagons, people on foot, in sedan chairs and litters borne by slaves, people everywhere.

  After traveling for several hours, they drew to the side of the road and ate a meal Alysia had packed in a basket. A few hours after resuming their journey, narrow lanes began branching off the road to right and left, each leading to a dwelling at the top of the slope. Some were small, quaint farms, and others were the mansions of the wealthy. At last the driver, one of Horatius’ slaves, turned off onto a long avenue lined with cypress trees. They were all drowsing, but came quickly to attention as the carriage slowed and drew to a stop.

  Against the dusk, the villa was ablaze with the light of many lamps, showing off its marble columns and balconies, the plane and cypress trees gracing its lawn, the carefully placed shrubs and beds of flowers. Slaves had come outside to greet them, taking their baggage and ushering them inside. The high ceilings sent rushes of cool air wafting over them as they stood in the entry hall. Long corridors ran down either side, and in front of them a double doorway opened onto a vast courtyard. More slaves appeared, offering to take them to their rooms and announcing that food would be served in the courtyard within the hour.

  “By Felicitas!” Daphne exclaimed, before she thought. “I could get used to this!”

  * * *

  Morning sunlight slanted through the long windows into the room, falling across the large, canopied bed. The walls of the bedroom were painted in bright colors…one entire section depicted a woman in a flowing gown and palla, seeming to almost float through a mysterious arched doorway flanked by twin Corinthian columns. The rich scent of cedar emanated from the various chests and tables, the cabinets, the elaborate dressing table with its matching bench, and the enormous frame of the bed. Wicker chairs and ornate lamp stands filled every corner.

  Alysia stretched and slid one of her legs against one of her husband’s. “Maximus,” she said languorously, pressing close and laying her arm across his chest. “I think I’m going to call you Maximus from now on. Or have I said that before?”

  He gave a low laugh and answered, “And I think your name means ‘captivating’…Let’s see, when exactly did you captivate me? I think it must have been that day in the rain when you kicked me in the shin and declared your hatred for me.”

  “I did have a horrible temper, didn’t I?”

  “Constantly.” He smiled and turned to look into her eyes. “But I didn’t blame you, after all you endured.”

  “Oh, I’ve always had a temper, I assure you. And I was very sorry for myself. And I didn’t want to fall in love with you!”

  He sighed. “It’s a shame I was so irresistible.”

  “It’s a shame you’re so conceited!”

  “Conceited!” he said, with mock indignation. “After you denied me all those years? It was a considerable blow to my pride.”

  “One you needed, I’m sure. But…I think I’ve more than made up for it since then.”

  “Indeed, you have,” he said, grinning, and kissed her fervently.

  * * *

  The day was spent exploring the villa and its surroundings, which would have covered an entire city block. Shaped like a square, the numerous rooms surrounded the paved courtyard; there were bedrooms, a library, offices, casual and formal dining rooms (though in summer, meals were served on the courtyard), reception rooms, baths, exercise rooms…and now, a prayer room. It had formerly been a shrine to the household gods, but the images had all been removed and burned, replaced by copies of the Scriptures.

  Because Horatius had shared his faith with his slaves, many of the
m had become believers. The guests were never certain exactly how many slaves there were, because they only appeared when they were attending to their own particular duties, and were so quiet and decorous they were hardly noticed. Their living quarters were next to the baths.

  The courtyard was furnished with tables and chairs; spaces for small trees to grow had been left in the mosaic pavement. A fountain splashed water into an enormous pool, where pipes connected to nearby springs. A paved walkway, edged with flowerbeds, surrounded the pool. Beyond the courtyard a row of columns led to a wide stairway, descending to a paved landing and another set of stairs shaped in a semi-circle, and surrounded by a marble parapet. Rustic clay pots filled with plants had been placed on top of the low wall, and the landing, too, was interspersed with shrubs and flowers and small trees. The second stairway led to the close-trimmed lawns, which overlooked the foothills of lush green mountains rising in the distance.

  A pond that could almost be called a small lake covered the entire west side of the property, and on the east side stood a large brick stable and surrounding pasture. Horatius, like many of Rome’s wealthy landowners, used his country estate to provide extra income…in his case, raising horses. A forest of wild oak, pine and maple trees stretched beyond the stable as far as the eye could see.

  From the north a road extended past the long drive and disappeared from view. When Daphne asked where it went, the house steward replied that it led to the marketplace, where all the local farmers who didn’t wish to conduct business within the city gathered on certain days of the week to sell their goods. There were amusements, too, he added, and speeches and public debates, and other merchants and peddlers.

  “Horatius must be awfully rich. I thought that Jesus’ followers were supposed to give away all their possessions to the poor,” Daphne remarked, as they sat around a table on the courtyard, partaking of a superb mid-day meal. Over their heads, extending just far enough to cover the eating area, was a section of latticework threaded with plants and vines, to shade them from the glaring sun.