by David Riley
He took a deep breath, steeling his resolve and preparing to make his move. Just as he started to rush them, there was a lull in the wind and their voices became clearer. What he heard stopped him in his tracks, stunned.
Aristarchus said, “I’m glad Luke has some help. He appears to be learning quickly and seems to have a gift for treating the sick and injured.”
Paul nodded. “Yes, I think young Temeros was placed here by God. He seems to be growing in his faith as he also learns this new trade with Dr. Luke.”
It was only a few words but it shook Demetrius to his core. Temeros! Suddenly it was clear to him. The man with the head scarf that looked so familiar was his own son, now grown! How could this be? He was sure the boy had died in the fire. As glad as he was to discover that he had survived, he was overcome with a mix of guilt and anger—guilt at the painful memory of the fire, realizing it occurred as a result of his own rage, guilt at the memory of the look on his son’s face when he lashed out at his wife, and guilt at not being more diligent to search for his son after the fire, but also anger at Temeros. Why did he not come to search for him? Why did his own son abandon him when he was recovering from his injuries?
Then Paul’s words sunk in. Growing in his faith? No! How could Paul have beguiled his son also?! How could his Temeros be following this man who had destroyed his livelihood and torn apart his family? He felt a quick rush of rage and his good right hand closed over the hilt of his silver dagger. He was about to rush them both, but just at that time, the men had turned to see him standing there.
In the blink of an eye, Aristarchus saw the man with a wild look in his eyes, a cry of rage on his lips, and a silver dagger raised as he advanced quickly toward them. He cried out and pushed Paul aside as he jumped in front of him. As the man hesitated and adjusted his angle of attack toward him, Aristarchus raised his hands in defense and closed his eyes in anticipation of the blow to come.
Just as Demetrius started the downward motion of his hand wielding the dagger, someone grabbed him from behind pushing him aside. The death blow he had planned failed, only catching the man on the forearm as he was thrown to the deck. As he fell, he saw the Roman soldier, Gaius, pouncing on him, a firm grip on his right forearm. He twisted severely, causing a sharp pain as his grip loosened letting his dagger fall to the deck. He was no match for the strength and training of the soldier, and after a few feeble struggles, he gave up, panting for breath and crying out in pain.
Chaos followed as the rain began pouring down again, water washing across the deck. Several more soldiers arrived, summoned by Gaius’ shouts. Two of them grabbed the attacker as Gaius turned to check on Aristarchus. Seeing the deep cut on his arm and the pale look on his face, Gaius ordered two other soldiers to quickly take him to Luke’s quarters and fetch the physician. He saw the silver dagger glinting on the deck, the blood being washed away by the heavy rain that had just started. He picked it up and tucked it in his belt.
Paul was standing nearby, a look of shock and concern on his face. Gaius assured him the attack was over, and he took his arm and led him to Luke’s quarters to be checked out. Then, with the deck starting to heave up and down again with the resurgence of the storm, the soldiers made their way below with their new prisoner in their grasp. It was all done in a matter of a few minutes.
Down in the hold, the soldiers roughly tied Demetrius’ arms behind him as they isolated him from the others in a corner of the room. Once he was secured and disarmed, three soldiers were posted over him until the commander and the centurion could decide what to do with him. He sat slumped on the floor, head down, his mind churning and a look of torment on his face.
Up on the deck, Luke and Temeros quickly returned to his quarters. They had realized the initial report of someone on deck needing their attention was a false alarm. Just as they were turning to return to Paul, the soldiers rushed up with a report that someone had tried to attack the teacher and he was hurt. Immediate worry and concern for Pauls’ welfare lent speed to them on the slick water-washed deck. Just as they arrived, they saw Paul being led there by Gaius and were relieved to see that he appeared to be ok.
“Paul!” Luke called over the noise of the storm. “Are you ok? They told me you were hurt! What happened?”
Paul responded breathlessly. “No! I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s Aristarchus! Someone had a knife and tried to stab him! I saw a lot of blood but I don’t know how bad it is. Please go in and check on him!” he said, standing back to allow the doctor into the room.
The first thing they saw was blood. It had dripped on the floor of the room causing a sticky mess. Aristarchus was lying on the table, appearing very pale. One of the soldiers had found a piece of cloth and put it loosely around his arm, but it was saturated and had not yet slowed the bleeding. The soldier did not look too well himself, appearing very pale as he turned away from the sight (he had yet to see any combat and was not used to seeing that much blood).
Luke quickly crossed over and put pressure on the wound as he directed Temeros to get a fresh cloth. As he held pressure to the area on the left forearm, he quickly assessed Aristarchus for any other signs of trauma. The blood on his tunic appeared to all be from this wound on his arm.
“Aristarchus! Can you hear me?” Aristarchus opened his eyes, a dazed look on his face as he turned toward Luke’s voice. “Are you hurt anywhere else other than your arm?”
He looked down at his bloody arm, appearing almost surprised to see the blood there. As he struggled to remember all that had happened, he slowly shook his head. “I—I don’t think so. I don’t really know. Right now, just my arm hurts.”
“Just relax. We’ll take care of you.” Temeros returned with a fresh bandage as well as a leather thong to use as a tourniquet around the upper arm.
“Ok. But Luke…” Luke leaned closer to hear what he wanted to say. “I don’t want you taking out any revenge on me for my earlier comments! Temeros better watch what you do to me! I’d like to still have both arms when you are done!” he said with a slight smile. Luke laughed, caught off guard. It was a good sign if he was still joking around.
He turned his attention to the bloody dressing. After the tourniquet was applied around the upper arm (with a cry of pain from Aristarchus), the bleeding was slowed greatly. Luke removed the dressing and washed the wound with clean water and a cloth. It appeared to be about five inches long, just below the elbow running down his forearm. Although the slice was clean and straight, it was gaping open and the muscle tissue could be seen partially severed. More concerning was the continued bleeding, which was much reduced but not yet stopped by the tourniquet.
“Temeros, can you see that spot where the blood is coming from? I want you to put your finger there and press it down firmly to stop the bleeding.”
Temeros leaned closer, seeing what Luke had indicated. He quickly put his index finger on the spot and pressed down (with another cry of pain from the patient), feeling the flow of blood stop. Luke quickly wiped away the blood from the wound to get a better view. “Good! That is the right place. Now just hold it until I tell you to let it go!”
They worked together, bracing themselves against the rocking of the ship. Exploring the wound, Luke was able to see that the majority of the muscle was intact so he would not need to sew it back together. Aristarchus was able to move his wrist and fingers (although with a lot of pain) so his function appeared to be maintained. The biggest problems appeared to be the bleeding and the wound itself. After a few minutes of inspection, Luke asked Temeros to slowly let up the pressure on the bleeding vessel. As he did, there was once again fresh blood pouring into the wound, but this time it was much slower. Luke was pleased by this, knowing it was a good sign the bleeding should stop with longer compression. Temeros applied pressure again as Luke got more supplies to wrap the wound.
“How does it look?” Aristarchus asked. He appeared to have regained some of his color as he was lying down on the bed.
“I don’t think ther
e is any major damage. It’s just a deep cut that should heal. You’ll be sore and we need to watch for any infection, but you should just have a nice scar for all of your trouble.”
Aristarchus smiled at that. “Scars will make me look fiercer. I’ll have to think up a good story about how I got it.”
“What did happen?” Luke asked him. “They told me somebody tried to stab you! Did you make jokes about the wrong person?”
“I really don’t know who that man was. I haven’t seen him before. I think he was actually aiming for Paul but I got in his way. I did not hear him say why.”
“Hmm. Well, Paul has made a few enemies through the years.” He turned toward Paul, leaning against the wall to steady himself. “Paul, did you see who did this? Do you know why he attacked you?
Paul shook his head. “No, I could not see. You know how my eyes are these days, and with the rain, and shadows of the storm, all I could see was a flash of movement before Aristarchus pushed me out of the way. I think he saved my life!”
Aristarchus frowned at this. “No, I did not do anything quite that brave. I was hoping he would miss us both, but I did not move fast enough.”
Luke smiled at him. “I am impressed!”
Aristarchus blushed at the attention from those in the room and tried to change the subject.
“Well, anyway, neither of us knew the man who did this. Maybe the soldiers can find out more.”
After a few more minutes of continuous pressure on the wound, Luke asked Temeros to once again release the pressure. This time, there was no significant bleeding. It stayed dry as they continued to watch.
Luke prepared the dressing. Since it was such a straight cut, just wrapping it securely should approximate the edges of the wound to allow it to heal. He placed a clean cloth over the wound being sure the edges of the wound met. Then he wound a strip of cloth around the area several times, being sure it was firm but not too tight. After tying it securely, it was time for the moment of truth.
“Ok, let’s let the tourniquet loose slowly.” Temeros complied as they watched the dressing closely. The fingers once again turned a healthy color of pink. After a minute or two, there was a small stain of blood visible on the dressing, but it did not expand. Luke checked the function of his hand and finger movement once again and made sure the flingers stayed pink.
“I think that will be ok,” he declared. “But, we will need to keep you here to watch it closely. You will need to limit how much you do with your left arm for a few days. Try to keep it raised over your chest or on a pillow.”
“Whatever you say, doctor. I’ll be your best patient,” Aristarchus declared.
Luke turned to Paul. “Ok, now it’s your turn. How are you feeling? Did you have any injuries during the attack?” he asked with concern as he directed him to the adjacent cot to sit down.
“No, I seem to be fine. I was shocked when it happened and anxious, but that has passed. I know the Lord has protected us once again.”
Luke examined him quickly. There were no obvious wounds other than a superficial scrape on one knee from when he was knocked to the deck. He was able to move all of his extremities and seemed oriented. His heart rate seemed normal and steady.
“I agree, you seem to be doing well. If you start to have any problems, be sure to let me or Temeros know!”
Temeros brightened at being included in the care.
“Well, let’s get some rest if we can. The storm is picking up again. Be careful going back to the lower deck,” Luke said as the men made their way toward the door.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Paul returned to the lower level and was greeted by several of the other prisoners in the hold asking what had happened. They had seen the attacker roughly hauled to the other end of the hold and could see the soldiers guarding him closely.
He recounted the story two or three times until their curiosity had been satisfied. Some of the believers gathered around him and placed their hands on him for a time of prayer, thanking God for His safekeeping and praying for a quick recovery for Aristarchus and wisdom in his treatment by Dr. Luke and Temeros. Paul joined in briefly, asking God to forgive the attacker and bring him to knowledge of the love and grace and sacrifice provided by Jesus, the Christ.
Gaius, standing nearby, was surprised by this compassion for someone that wanted him dead. After all of the teaching he had heard from Paul, though, he knew it was consistent with everything he had heard about Jesus so far. As he reflected on this, he was flooded with a deep desire for this same spirit he had seen demonstrated by Paul and the other believers.
Porcius and Cassius also observed this as they stood in the shadows a short distance away. They shared a quick glance and sneered at the idea of asking this shadowy god to forgive, whispering to each other about how weak this prisoner must be to so quickly give up on any desire for revenge. They walked away, planning to get a glimpse of Demetrius and make sure he did not implicate them in any of his actions.
—————
The shadows descended in the hold, and the noise of the storm and the heaving of the ship worsened. The mood in the hold became drearier with each passing hour. The few who had kept their spirits up the best were faltering, giving in to hopelessness and fear. Even Paul seemed more quiet and somber than he had been.
Paul sat on the floor, his back to the bulkhead. He could feel the throbbing of the ship with each wave. His mood darkened as he thought of the hardships he had faced. Yes, God had brought him through each one, but couldn’t he be spared, just once?! Surely he had sacrificed enough. Here he was, once again a prisoner, alone in the dark. His closest companions on this voyage were occupied elsewhere. He was tired, hungry, and sick to his stomach from the never-ending movement of the ship. He felt pressure from those around him to show no fear or weakness, but he was only human!
He had been so sure God had directed him to appeal to Caesar, and he saw how God could use this to impact Rome, the center of the known world! He had started off with excitement and anticipation, but now, it had been thirteen days of storms, rain, rocking of the ship, uncertainty, and fear. He had maintained his faith that God would rescue them, and he did not doubt God’s power or His goodness. But he had expected to have respite several days ago.
As he thought about Rome, he remembered his correspondence to the church there. He had written to them a few years before, hoping to someday see them in person, and he had such hopes that this would be the way he could accomplish this. As he thought of that letter, he remembered the words he had written to them, encouraging them in their faith. “What can separate us from God’s love? Nothing.” He had listed many hardships, including tribulations, distress, and persecution. He had asked the rhetorical question, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” Now the word “If” was dancing in his mind, teasing him. “Are you sure God is for you?” Didn’t he in the same letter write “For Your sake we are killed all day long; We are accounted as sheep for the slaughter”?9
He was overcome with discouragement. Even feeling as low as he did, he recognized the truth of God’s love. He was convinced that God really was for him. He remembered his own words, inspired by the Spirit of God himself. “In all these things, we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.”10 It was only through Jesus himself that this would be conquered. It is strange how God sometimes used the very same words he had preached to others to confront his own doubts.
He tried to sleep, but rest was hard to come by. After a couple of hours, the pressure in his bladder and his own restlessness made the decision for him. He signaled to the guard indicating he planned to go to relieve himself up on deck. The soldier grumbled but agreed to escort him to be sure he was safe. After the earlier attack, they had orders to not leave him unaccompanied.
As they made their way to the ladder, Gaius saw what was happening and offered to take him since he also felt the same bodily needs. He had been tossing and turning, dozing a few minutes at a time, but not able to sleep.
He led Paul up the ladder, steadying him. On deck, they each secured themselves with a lifeline as they steadied themselves against the heaving deck and the heavy rain. Intermittent flashes of lightning gave them glimpses of the deck but in turn took away their night vision briefly after each flash. They felt their way together toward the prow of the ship to the small room designated for waste. It was at the very front of the ship, and there was a small open window for ventilation. The main view was of the figurehead adjacent to it. The sailors had taken to calling it the “head” because of its location.
Gaius went in first, quickly taking care of his needs, and then exited for Paul to take his turn. As Gaius waited outside the door, holding tightly to the rope, he could see the massive, mountainous waves with each flash of lightning. Some loomed higher than the ship, and it seemed impossible that they could survive much more of this.
As he was overcome by the dread and fear of dying in this storm, he became aware of what sounded like voices. He looked around but no one else was near. He glanced at the door to the head and was startled to see what looked like a bright shining light in the crack at the bottom of the door. There was no lightning at the time. He started to knock on the wooden door, but as he reached out his hand, he realized the voices he heard were coming from inside. How could this be? No one else was there when he left just moments before. Was Paul losing his mind and talking to himself?
He leaned his ear to the door and could hear Paul but he also heard another voice. The voice was difficult to describe. It sounded like a mixture of a rushing wind and a flowing river, but he could tell there were words in the sound. It was so hard to decipher what was being said. It seemed as though it was in a different tongue. He gripped the handle of his sword with his right hand as he grabbed the door handle with his left, determined to find out what was happening.
