Man of God

by Diaz, Debra

  Daphne looked exasperated. “Wait,” she called suddenly. “I have to put Tigris down for a moment.”

  The puppy began to busily sniff the ground, and after a moment darted playfully away. Daphne ran after the puppy, tripped on the hem of her gown, and fell gracefully into the dirt.

  “Ow!” she cried, pulling up her skirt to examine her ankle.

  Alysia rushed to her side. “Are you hurt, Daphne?”

  “I—I’m not sure.”

  Paulus came over to assist her to her feet, and she slowly put her weight down on the injured ankle. Tears of pain came into her eyes.

  “I don’t think I can walk.”

  Paulus said, after a moment, “Alysia can stay here with you. Rachel and I will go on and bring the carriage.”

  “But it’s about to rain! Can’t you carry me, Antonius? It’s not far—I can see the villa from here!”

  Alysia glanced at the gray sky, which was beginning to rumble with thunder. Paulus seemed to be waiting for her response. She nodded at him, hiding her annoyance.

  He lifted Daphne in his arms. Rachel came running up with the squirming puppy. Daphne looped her arms around Paulus’ neck and smiled apologetically at Alysia, who forced herself to smile back. But much later, when it was almost time to retire, she noticed that Daphne completely forgot to limp.

  * * *

  An oil lamp flickered on the dressing table as Alysia sat on the bench before it, brushing her long black hair. The dark violet of her soft linen nightgown almost matched her eyes. She wasn’t sure where Paulus was…but it was his habit to disappear at times—to walk, to think, to pray.

  Her uneasiness about Daphne was increasing. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Paulus, but she firmly believed that Satan was setting him up for a fall. Especially after today. She had been dumbfounded when Paulus cast out the demon, or demons…although she had witnessed one other exorcism, performed by Jesus himself. It had never occurred to her that Paulus would be able to do such a thing. He had become a threat to God’s adversary…Satan, that fallen angel once known as Lucifer.

  Outside, a storm lashed at the trees and sent rain pounding against the shutters that covered the windows. It somehow made the room feel safe, and intimate. Just as she put down the brush, the door opened and closed. Paulus came toward her, bent and kissed the top of her head. He sat behind her, straddling the wide bench and placing his legs alongside hers.

  “Rachel has fallen in love with that puppy,” he said, as he slid his arms around her waist. “I’d like to get her one someday…soon.”

  “Paulus, I’ve been thinking…ever since you had that talk with her, that it’s time I told her certain things. First of all, about—about where babies come from. It’s not too soon, with everything she must see and hear in Rome. The statues, the drawings on the walls, the symbols—why, it’s everywhere! And she’s going to hear things from other children.”

  “Better you than me,” he answered, smiling. “The Lord be with you.”

  “And I need to tell her about the circumstances of her birth. Before she hears it from someone else. Now that people know…children could overhear their parents talking, and things always get out somehow.”

  After a pause he said, “If you’re certain. I leave it to your wisdom. She is mature beyond her years—perhaps it is time.”

  Alysia moved slightly and tucked her head beneath his chin. She said softly, “About what happened today…I am almost in awe of you, Paulus.”

  “No, don’t ever say that, Alysia. That was beyond my control—yes, I let it happen, but the power was not mine. You know that.”

  “The spirit knew—it called you a man of God.”

  “And what is that, but one who obeys God? Or tries to.”

  “It’s more than that.”

  “Yes, perhaps you are right. A man of God suffers for his faith, Alysia—he is tried in fire. You and I have suffered, but no more than others have. The evil spirit recognized the spirit of God in me—that is all.”

  “What do you suppose that man will do now?”

  “I don’t know—I’m sorry he left. I wish we could have talked with him.”

  The room quieted as they fell silent; the wind had subsided but the muffled sound of rain still beat against the house. Alysia sighed contentedly, closing her eyes. Her hands moved slowly over the bare, muscular arms clasped at her waist. As she leaned her head back, Paulus wound his fingers in her hair and pressed his lips against her throat.

  A rattling came from the door and it opened to reveal Daphne, blinking at them in the dim lamplight.

  “Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think…that is, I can’t find Tigris. Have you seen her?”

  Considerably annoyed, Paulus turned and nevertheless calmly replied, “Rachel was running up and down the hallways with her. You might look in one of the other wings of the house.”

  “Oh,” Daphne said again. “Well, goodnight.”

  “From now on,” Alysia murmured, when she had gone, “be sure to bolt the door.”

  * * *

  The next morning while Paulus was out riding, and Daphne was being entertained by her puppy, Alysia called Rachel into her bedroom. She had thought carefully over the words she would say, and managed to get through the first part. Rachel sat listening with apparent interest, perhaps not quite comprehending it all. Alysia took a deep breath.

  “I’ve told you the physical aspects of how life begins, dear, and I hope you understand very clearly that all of this is to take place within the bonds of marriage. This is what Jesus taught, and it is a sacred thing, not to be taken lightly, nor entered into impulsively. Often a girl’s husband is chosen for her by her parents, but when it comes time for that, Rachel, you can be assured that your father and I will take your wishes into account.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Now there is something else I must tell you. It’s very difficult for me. You are very young, darling, but it’s time you knew.”

  Rachel looked concerned, shifted around and said hesitantly, “Father has already told me, Mother, about why you had to leave Rome, and why the soldiers are looking for you.”

  Alysia smiled. “Yes, I know he did. We had already agreed that when the time seemed right, you should be told. I hope you don’t think too badly of me, Rachel.”

  “Oh, no!” Rachel sat up straighter, looking her mother earnestly in the face. “Father said it’s not a sin to kill someone who is trying to kill you.”

  “Well, that is a matter of opinion, I suppose, and I don’t know if this man was going to kill me. But he was trying to take me by force…in the way I’ve described to you. This is called rape, and it is very wrong, and against the law, but it’s difficult to prove. A woman’s word is usually not enough. Women are considered to be dishonored, afterward, and sometimes are even expected to commit suicide. Besides all this, I was a slave. I had no rights. Do you understand, Rachel?”

  Her daughter gave a slow nod and cast her gaze downward.

  “And now…I must tell you about the circumstances of your birth. Did you overhear any of the talk the other night, when Megara came to our house?”

  “I heard a few things, but none of it made sense, Mother, until Father explained them to me.”

  “He has left it up to me to explain this, as he should have.” Alysia paused again, wishing with all her heart she didn’t have to go on…yet she did.

  “I’ve told you that marriage is a holy thing—but there was a time when I did not regard it as such. The marriage between my first husband and myself was not a happy one. He loved me, but he was often away from home. I cared for him as well. But I was in love with your father, Rachel, even then—even when I knew it was wrong. And one time, we gave in to that temptation. Your father was not yet a believer. But I knew better.”

  She waited a long moment, giving her daughter time to think about what she was telling her. She could practically see Rachel linking things together in her mind and coming to the correct c
onclusion, because her cheeks grew very pink.

  “Jesus knew of it, and he forgave me. But Rachel, always remember…there are consequences for the things we do. God will forgive us if we ask him to, but that doesn’t mean he will take away the consequences. I was put on public display for what I did, and to this day I don’t know who knows the truth. Lazarus and Martha, yes, and at least one of the disciples. If there are others who saw me that day…I cannot say.”

  Alysia reached out and took her daughter’s hands. “The truth always comes out, and it can be harmful to the innocent. But Rachel, I rejoiced on the day of your birth! And your father loves you…more than anything in this world.”

  Her daughter kept looking at the floor.

  “My husband was—killed—very soon afterward. He belonged to a group of men who fought the Romans. There’s no need to tell you how he was executed, except that your father was involved, as the commander of the fort. But it was right. My husband refused to be pardoned. People in Bethany have always assumed he was your father.”

  Rachel murmured, without looking up. “That’s what Martha’s neighbor meant, when she said I didn’t look like my father.”

  “That’s right. I don’t know if she simply made an innocent remark, or if she was being—malicious. But there are people in the world, darling, who take pleasure in accusing others…of making others feel small and shameful. You must try to respond as Jesus would want you to.”

  Alysia thought guiltily of her own response to Megara, and how she’d wanted to do her bodily harm! Well, Rachel certainly knew by now that her mother wasn’t perfect. And unfortunately for Megara, God would deal with her in his own time.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you these things, Rachel. But you may hear of them, and I don’t want you to be hurt, or to have to wonder what is true, and what isn’t. You can have no doubt how much you are loved. Would you like to ask me anything?”

  Rachel shook her head. A moment went by, and she asked, “Is that all, Mother?”

  Alysia sighed. “Yes. That is all.”

  She withdrew her hand from Rachel’s. Her daughter stood up, left the bedroom and walked slowly down the long hallway to her own room.

  A short while later, Alysia heard the soft, sweet strains of music…Rachel was playing her lyre.

  CHAPTER XII

  The following morning, her parents told Rachel she could have a puppy. Overjoyed, she couldn’t wait to return to the marketplace, and Alysia and Daphne, almost as excited as she, decided to take her right away to select one. Two male slaves would accompany them. Paulus declined to go, because of the attention he had drawn before, and let it be known he would spend the day riding. He set off in an easterly direction through the woods, on a well-defined path that looked as though it had often been trod by horses.

  It would be easy to get used to this, he thought, remembering Daphne’s words when they’d first arrived at the villa. Birds twittered and chirped overhead, the breeze swept mildly through his hair and there was no sense of urgency pressing upon him, no need to be constantly on guard. He hadn’t gone far, though, when the fine stallion nearly unseated him, dropping one of his forelegs and beginning to limp heavily. At once Paulus dismounted and examined each leg and hoof, but he could find no injury. He knew these horses were well cared for, and there could be any number of causes for lameness.

  “Easy, fellow,” Paulus soothed, as the stallion shook his head and neighed. Well, there was no help for it…he took the reins and began slowly walking the horse back toward the villa. His muscles were still a little sore from carrying Daphne the other day…she was heavier than she looked…and he wasn’t as young as he used to be! And though he never mentioned it, his leg often ached where he’d once suffered a severe wound, as did the arm that had been broken…both injuries having occurred during an enemy attack, while he was in Judea.

  Leaving the horse in the care of the slaves who managed the stable, he entered the east wing of the villa, and thought suddenly of the baths. In Rome, he had never visited the public baths, except when he was looking for someone and that was the only place he could be found. Being a soldier for most of his life, Paulus considered it self-indulgent and a waste of time…but at the moment, the thought of soaking in hot water was extremely tempting.

  He asked one of the slaves to light the furnaces below and went into the kitchen, where he made himself a light meal of figs and pomegranates, and bread that he dipped in a mixture of olive oil and black pepper. Another slave came and protested that the guest was serving himself instead of calling for him, and Paulus talked with him for a while, until the first slave approached and told him the bath had been prepared.

  He entered the vast chamber, with its mosaic tiles and frescoed walls. Some of the paintings had apparently been of a risqué nature and had been, since Horatius’ conversion, covered with a fresh layer of paint. Paulus stripped off his clothes and went down the steps into the steaming water, found a comfortable spot, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Again, a sense of calm and peacefulness came over him—two things he definitely didn’t feel when Daphne was around. She had a way of disturbing one’s peace of mind no matter what she was doing.

  He didn’t know why she kept coming into his mind. She’d been acting different lately. He admitted to himself that perhaps it was only male conceit, but he’d been stalked by women often enough to know when they were giving certain signals…and often enough, in the past, he’d taken them up on their offers. But that was in the past.

  It had been foolish of him to invite her here. He couldn’t have left her as she was, but he could have arranged for her to go somewhere else; there were several unattached women in the community of believers with whom she could have stayed while she sorted out her thoughts. But he didn’t think she would have gone. And would they have helped her, or made her feel worse? In a way, maybe it was right for her to come here. He felt sure that Alysia had succeeded in at least making her feel accepted. Rachel, too, had reached out to her, and they often played games together…and now they had their adoration of the puppy in common. Although, he had seen Daphne on occasion regard his daughter with a look of… almost…resentment.

  Daphne understood the truth about Jesus Christ…he had little doubt of that. But she hadn’t accepted it; she was holding back for some reason, and it went beyond her protestations that no one would allow her to forget her past. He didn’t know of anything more they could do, other than pray and keep exhibiting love and acceptance toward her.

  Half an hour passed and he almost fell asleep, now free of the soreness that had plagued him earlier. He climbed up the steps, grabbed a linen towel to dry himself and began putting on his clothes. A whisper of movement, and a flash of something in the corner of his eye, made him turn his head toward the entryway…but there was no one there.

  It was very quiet as he walked through the atrium, with not a servant to be seen. He missed his wife and daughter and wondered how he would spend the rest of the day. He should go into the prayer room and prepare himself for the public debate. He needed to refresh his memory on some of the popular philosophies and religions, and with that in mind he walked to the far end of the house and turned to enter the library. Somewhere, too, Alysia had placed a precious set of parchment sheets on which she and her friend, Mary, had written every saying of Jesus they had heard…or been told of by one of his close disciples…in Hebrew and in Greek. He knew all of them, but he liked to read them nevertheless.

  Before looking at the books, however, he was distracted by the view from the window, which faced south toward green fields and mountains. He stood there for a long time, his handsome features deeply thoughtful. His hair was still wet and the dark green of his tunic clung damply to his shoulders.

  No sooner had he sensed a presence behind him than two silken arms slid around his lean waist, and a soft body pressed itself against the back of his. Paulus turned at once, avoiding the entangling arms, and looked into Daphne’s eager, dark eyes. He g
rasped her roving hands in both of his.

  “I stayed here—for you,” she breathed, her face flushed with desire. “Come lie with me—no one will know.”

  He saw that she was clothed in a diaphanous gown; her rich dark hair was loose, and a heady perfume floated in the air around her. “Daphne—stop,” he said, as she struggled to pull her hands out of his iron grip.

  “Kiss me, Antonius,” she whispered, leaning into him, her lips parted. “I can do things for you you’ve never dreamed of—.” A swift, silent battle ensued; Daphne determinedly pushed toward him and Paulus sought to restrain her.

  “Daphne, get away from me.”

  His tone was low and severe, and he didn’t have to thrust her away; she had only to look into his eyes to see that he meant it. She stopped her movements, and Paulus let go of her hands. She stepped backward, breathing hard, and stared at him as he crossed the room and placed himself at a safe distance from her.

  “Why?” he demanded angrily. “What made you think—”

  “Why—do you have to ask me why!”

  “Yes, I do!”

  “Because I—I want you, and I’ve told you before—this is all I know.”

  “You know a great deal more! You have sat at my house and listened, and in this house…you know that this is wrong, and what it cost Jesus Christ to pay for it!”

  At that her face crumpled. Looking young and vulnerable, she collapsed suddenly into a storm of weeping. Paulus resisted the urge to go to her, to comfort her. She covered her eyes with one hand and reached out blindly with the other until she found a chair and dropped into it.

  Paulus tried to restrain his anger and deep disappointment. “You were almost ready to believe in him. You do believe, don’t you, but you are rejecting him—why, Daphne?”

  “You don’t understand!” she cried, taking her hand from her tear-streaked face. “This is in my heart and it won’t go away! I am nineteen years old, Antonius, and I’ve been a prostitute since I was twelve! My own father sold me—after he had taken my virginity, and I have done things that would make you cringe with shame! How can I ever be forgiven—how can I ever look your Jesus in the face?”