Yet her desire to hear what this man had to say grew even stronger. She wanted to hear more about this god who considered men blameless.
Stay or go? She wavered.
“How?” asked Quintus.
“Yahweh presented His own son, Yeshua, as the required sacrifice—the punishment—for our sin. When we believe that Yeshua sacrificed His life, offering His blood for us, we are made right with Yahweh. That sacrifice covers all the sins of all people—past, present, and future—and anyone who believes in Him can be saved from condemnation.”
One God for all people? Only one? She had many gods. Llyr was god of the sea, Taranus was god of thunder, Brigid was goddess of healing and prophesy. There were so many more. How could only one god take care of everything?
“Yahweh, who raised Yeshua from the dead, will also raise us up, and will take us into His presence where we will live with Him, forever.”
None of her gods promised she could live with them. Ever, at all. They promised she would return to another life after this one. Over and over.
She liked what Paulos’s god offered.
Words filled her head, words that demanded to be set free. She struggled to hold them in. An unknown force pushed her to identify Paulos’s god, but she ached to remain silent.
“These men are servants of the highest god!”
She clapped her hand over her mouth. Had she just yelled that?
Paulos stared at her, shaking his head. After a moment, he and the others moved around her.
She followed them, pulled by an unseen force as strong as if a rope held by Paulos were tied around her waist. Yearning, begging to remain silent, she failed once again. “These men are servants of the highest god, and they are telling the way to be saved!”
Could the ground just open up and let her fall into a hole? Her cheeks were on fire. She backed up, longing to escape.
Quintus stared at her like she had grown antlers.
Paulos led them past her, toward the Marsh Gate, frowning at her as he passed.
When the men were gone, people accosted her.
“How do you know about his god? Do you know all spirits?”
“Can you tell me about the spirit that attacks me?”
“You really can tell the future!”
There wasn’t enough air. They were grabbing at her tunic, at her arms. She tried to get away, but they surrounded her. Her heart raced.
Max barged in and took over, pulling the customers away from her, forming them into lines like so many soldiers.
Cassia stepped between her and the crowd. Her breath slowed, her fears calmed. “Are you all right? Are you ready?”
“Yes. It’s fine.”
She wasn’t about to admit that something was still blocking her, that she still couldn’t hear Brigid.
It would probably go away, and as long as her owners didn’t know, maybe they wouldn’t hurt her.
Maybe.
Quintus watched as the crowds swarmed Elantia in the forum, most holding bronze and silver coins in the air to gain her attention. Her face was pale, fists to her chest as she tried to back away. Cassia stepped in and pulled them away, but the fear in Tia’s eyes didn’t disappear.
His chest constricted, his heart ached. He wanted to help her, protect her. But there was nothing he could do.
She’d ordered him to stay far away.
He caught up to Paulos and the others on their way to prayer. Paulos was explaining something to his young companion Timotheos, hands gesturing animatedly as usual. Silas and Loukas strolled along behind the pair.
“What was that about?” Quin spoke as soon as Paulos took a breath.
“What?” Paulos looked at him as if nothing had happened.
“What? How can you pretend nothing happened back there?” He jogged ahead and then stopped, blocking their path. “She yelled something about a most high god. She got everyone staring, and then they all ran to her for prophesy.” Then a horrible, unwanted thought entered his mind. “Was she doing that to gain business for herself?”
Paulos tilted his head. “No, I don’t think so. She wasn’t the one doing it, at least. It was someone else.”
Someone else? “What does that mean? I heard her, saw her yelling. Who else would it be?”
One corner of Paulos’s mouth turned up. “Maybe I’ll explain later. Let’s see what happens first.”
12
“Finally Paul became so annoyed that he turned around and said to the spirit, ‘In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to come out of her!’”
Acts 16:18
After many long hours in the prison, Quin lay on his couch in the dark. Had he slept at all? He sat up and swung his legs over the bed, resting his head in his hands. Dawn would be here soon. He wasn’t getting any sleep; he may as well get up. He rose and slipped his tunic over his head.
How could he have thought Elantia had done that for profit? He’d seen the fear—the terror—in her eyes.
He limped into the kitchen. A half loaf of bread rested on a shelf. He dropped onto a stool and poked at the embers of the fire in the center of the culina.
Pulling off pieces of the bread, he ran through the events of the past few days.
What did she mean when she had yelled out to Paulos? Servants of the most high god. Which god? And what way of salvation?
She’d made it clear she didn’t want to see him, but he needed to know what had happened to her yesterday. He needed some answers. If not from her, from someone else.
When the sun finally crept above the horizon, he put on his belt, his sandals, and washed his face. Grabbed his cloak and headed outside. The early morning air was chillier than he expected, and he tossed the edge of the crimson garment over his shoulder. The forum would be crawling with people soon, and she would be there to provide more prophesies.
When he stood at the entrance to Lydia’s domus, fist hovering, the earliness of the hour hit him. Was anyone even up? Lydia, surely. That woman worked harder than anyone he knew. He’d need to come back at a decent hour. He turned to go, but the door swung open.
“Tribune! Come in!” Lydia’s round face and cheery smile never failed to calm his spirit.
“I must apologize. I didn’t realize how early it was until just now. I can return later.”
“Nonsense. We were just about to eat. Join us, won’t you?”
“Thank you.”
Demas appeared and took his cloak.
He followed Lydia down the hall. In the triclinium, Paulos, Silas, and Timotheos were on one side. Syn and Zenobia were in the middle.
Demas entered the room and reclined on the third side.
Lydia led him to the couch next to Demas. “Come, eat.” She patted the couch.
He backed away toward the hall. “I just came to talk to Paulos. Perhaps I should return later, when you’re not . . . so busy.”
“Quintus, please join us. I’ve been expecting you,” Paulos said.
Quin perched on the edge of the couch next to Demas. “What happened yesterday? You said you would explain what you meant by ‘someone else.’”
“I think that young girl has an evil spirit inside her.”
If he hadn’t been sitting down, he would have fallen down. “A what?”
Paulos sat up. “I think a spirit of divination speaks through her. How else do you think she tells the future so well? She is indeed talking to supernatural powers, and they control her mind. And they recognize the one true God that lives in us.”
“Why is that bad, then? Why did you silence her?”
“Because when she calls out that we are servants of ‘the most high god’ it sounds like Yahweh is the highest of many gods.” Paul pointed a finger. “That’s why everyone ran to her. They understood her to say Yahweh is the highest, but all the others are still gods as well. His title, the Highest, actually means He is higher than anything He has created, higher than man, higher than any spirits or powers. But there are no other gods. Just created things p
eople worship as gods.”
“So what happens to her now? Will this spirit hurt her?”
Paulos shrugged. “I don’t know, because I can’t tell the future.”
Timotheos chuckled.
Quin glared at him.
The old man grinned. “As I said, we’ll have to wait and see.”
Elantia stiffened as Paulos passed her.
The war that had waged within her for the last week intensified. Whenever that man came near, she felt an irresistible urge to call to him, name him. Why? As soon as she did, she wanted to hide. Forever. In the deepest, darkest cave. And Paulos and his companions apparently wanted her to go away, too, judging by the annoyance on his face.
The group came closer.
She tried to veer away. Today she would keep quiet. She fisted her hands, clenched her jaw. Walked in the other direction. Anything to keep those words from tumbling out.
“These men are servants of the most high god, and they are telling the way to be saved!”
Not again. The sixth day in a row. She dropped her chin to her chest. Why couldn’t she control her own tongue? Especially when she didn’t know—or believe—what she was saying.
She looked up to see the group approaching. Backing up, she glanced around. Where could she go? There was nowhere for her to hide.
Paulos gently held her arm. “Are you well, child?”
Nodding quickly, she searched the forum. “I-I’m well. I . . .” Where were her owners?
His eyes were gentle. Like those of her tatos. As if he really cared about her.
Behind him, the dark-haired boy shook his head in disapproval. The one with the thick, white beard smiled softly. The quiet scholar seemed to be studying her.
She avoided looking at Quintus. Though she couldn’t possibly care less what that Roumanos thought of her.
“All right.” Paulos smiled. “We have to go to prayer now, but I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” He patted her shoulder and headed toward the Marsh Gate.
Customers crowded her as soon as they left. Max and Cassia weren’t far behind.
“Me first.” One of her regulars shoved to the front. “Tia, I need your help.” His broad shoulders and his height allowed him to shove everyone behind him. “My wife is very ill. Tell me, will she survive?” He held out his hands, one full of coins.
She cradled his hand in hers, lightly moving her fingertips over his skin. Searching the sky for the non-existent clues, she begged Brigid for the messages.
“I can only see that she will not leave you in the next day or two. That’s all the goddess has shown me.” She winced. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s enough for now.” He left to pay and another came forward.
She squeezed her eyes tighter, hoping to catch a glimpse of what the goddess had to tell this young man—this boy, really. She’d seen only a flash of pain and blood before the future left her. What was she supposed to do with that? Might be his blood or someone else’s. Could be war. Could be childbirth. Those two were wildly opposed to each other, and yet both were perfectly reasonable options for a boy not remotely ready for either battle or marriage.
She hated lying.
But she had to say something. And she wouldn’t be found out for years either way.
She opened her eyes and cradled his hand between hers. “I see a life of glory ahead for you.”
His eyes brightened, and he stood up straighter.
“A life in which people will shout out for you, but in which pain and blood will also play a great part. Your actions alone will decide whether that glory will bring heartache or comfort to those nearest to you. Choose wisely whom you will follow.”
“Whom should I follow?”
“I cannot tell you that. But look around you, at not only the rewards of those whom you admire, but at what they have sacrificed. What are you willing to lose, to gain the accolades you seek?”
His shoulders slumped.
“Do not be discouraged. You have many years yet to choose your path.”
“Your time is up. Move on.” Cassia clapped her hands once, and the boy left.
He smiled at Tia before handing over his silver.
She finished the customers that had lined up after Paulos had left. Her head felt like it was full of spider webs. She’d made up futures and faked her way through decisions for twenty or more people. It hurt to think.
They had to have made more this morning already than most days. Max had tripled the price. Maybe they would let her go early today.
She looked for Cassia. Max would definitely say no. She noted Cassia several strides away but before she reached her, the heaviness came again. She couldn’t move her feet. Was Paulos back? She looked to the Via, in the direction of the Marsh Gate.
Her heart sank.
Not again. She tried to run.
Xenia blocked her path. “Elantia!”
“No! Let me go, please.”
“Tia, my dear.” She looked completely confused.
Paulos came closer.
“Tia, I saved this fabric for you. I know how you love the color blue.”
Closer . . .
“These men are servants of the highest god, and they are telling the way to be saved!”
Xenia backed away as Paulos strode to her, his face set.
What had she done? What was he going to do?
She cringed, shrinking before him. Her entire body shook as he looked down on her, his finger pointed at her heart. Her knees wobbled.
“I command you in the name of Yeshua to come out of her!”
Command who? Go where? Who was he talking to? She looked over her shoulder.
“I command you in the name of Yeshua of Nazareth, come out!” He repeated the same nonsense. She knew no one of this name.
Her heartbeat raced, her hot blood pounding in her ears. She felt dizzy, swaying, her vision blurring. The battle inside her rose to a fever pitch for just a moment . . . then it silenced.
And her world turned black.
Watching from the window of his office in the basilica, Gallus chuckled as the slave girl collapsed in a heap at the edge of the forum. Women gasped and backed away, men stood stunned.
More entertainment than he’d had in weeks.
“Leonidas!” Why was that servant never around when he nee—
The door opened. “Yes, Domine?”
He snapped his fingers, twice. “Bring me Helios. Instantly.”
The Greek scurried off.
Gallus turned his attention back to the forum. Cassia knelt to examine the girl, while Max, hands balled into fists, shouted at the man who had spoken to her before she collapsed. He always was a hot-tempered one.
The visitor, completely unruffled, answered a few of the owner’s questions. Max, giving up, turned away and barked at his wife. The two whispered together a moment.
Quintus, obviously shaken but ever the gallant soldier, picked her up and carried her to the home of her domini, leaving the visitors in the forum.
Gallus couldn’t have scripted better theater.
Who was that man who caused the girl to faint? And what about his companions? Had he said something to scare her? Embarrass her? Hurt her?
A knock at the door signaled the scriba’s arrival.
“Come.”
Helios stepped inside and joined Gallus at the window.
Gallus waved his hand at the group still standing together on the south side of the forum. “See those three? Four, actually, but one is barely more than a child.”
Helios nodded.
“I need you to find out who they are, where they came from, when they arrived, and what they have done since they’ve been here. I need to know everything, understand?”
“Yes, Domine.”
“As quickly as you can.”
“I shall do what I can.” The clerk left.
Gallus leaned out his window. Where had they gone? He scanned the forum. There they were, strolling toward the residential district. Why
would they go that way? Were they staying with someone they knew?
Even Quintus, a Roman, presumably of land and status, stayed at an inn when he first arrived. Who could these Jews know that would allow them to stay in their home? Some of the God-fearers? That would make sense. They worshipped the same god.
He watched until Paulos and the others turned south on Via Appia.
This was troublesome. He could either be buying something from one of the villa shops, which was doubtful considering his clothing, or he was staying with someone who owned one of the largest houses in Philippi.
The last thing he needed was for these men to have connections with the rich and powerful of Philippi.
Gallus stepped away from his window, fingering the purple edges of his toga. As long as it had been only women, he hadn’t worried too much about the God-fearers. What could a handful of women do, after all? They could pray to any god they wanted, as far as he cared.
From what he’d been told, they only went to sit by the river and pray. These women were not even Romans. A Greek or two, but mostly slaves, and freedmen—rather, women—except for that one woman from Anatolia. And she brought a lot of business—and taxes—into his city. He needed to remain in her favor.
Earlier in the year, Emperor Claudius had kicked all the Jews out of Rome because they had been inciting riots. All that did was send the troublemakers elsewhere. Like Philippi.
And if these men had come to Philippi to stay, had come to join the God-fearers, that could signal a change in the fabric of this town.
One that wouldn’t be in his best interest.
He’d come too far to let some nomadic Jews prevent him from climbing to the top of Philippi’s political system and staying there.
He would need to be prepared to take whatever steps were necessary to protect what was his.
Quin gently lay Elantia on the sleeping mat in her small room. Such a thin piece of woven reeds. It was hardly better than the bare tile floor. If only he could have taken her to his own wool-stuffed mattress.
That would hardly be appropriate. Though he would gladly vacate his house if she could stay there.
Sold Into Freedom Page 12
