But now, this morning, they needed all the prayer they could get, so she needed to stop thinking of her own comfort, and concentrate on Paulos, Silas, and Quin.
Timos stood. “As you know Paulos and Silas are in the prison. Years ago, Peter was in jail in Jerusalem. The believers there prayed all night, and an angel released him from his chains. I know you’ve been praying in your own homes, but Loukas and I thought together we could encourage each other’s faith as well as lift our voices to our Father. It is likely the magistrate is even now deciding their fate, and the fate of Quin the jailer, who, if you don’t know, was baptized last night, along with Epaphroditus and Charis.”
Several people rose to embrace the pair.
“Tia”—Lydia drew her forward—“was also baptized, although she became a follower of the Way several days ago.”
She was swarmed by hugs. Too many hugs. Eventually they left her alone and were seated again.
The time of prayer was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Even during the festivals for the gods at home, with fire and chanting and song, with her mamma and senomamma beside her, she’d never felt truly connected to Brigid—or any other god. But this morning she felt the Father’s unfathomable devotion and care for her, and for the men missing from her new family.
Loukas’s bold, matter-of-fact way of speaking contrasted wildly with Timo’s softly spoken yet surprisingly confident prayers. Lydia, arm around her, whispered nearly silent prayers the entire time. Sometimes more than one person prayed at the same time, but it wasn’t like the chaos of the feasts. If the living God was all-powerful, surely He could listen to two, or three, or a world full of people at once.
Because surely Paulos and Silas and Quin were praying as well from behind their walls of stone.
When their time together came to a close, people drifted out of the peristyle. Those who were slaves scurried off immediately. She studied the people remaining in the room. Loukas and Lydia chatted near a tree. Epaphras and Charis huddled together in a far corner, awaiting news of their dominus. Lydia’s freed servants went happily about their duties, chattering amongst themselves.
What was she to do now?
What was it that Paulos had told her the other day? About waiting? “Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding.”
That would be easy, for she had no understanding whatsoever in this situation. All she could do was trust and wait.
Father, bring him home to me. Bring them all home.
“That’s impossible!” Gallus slammed his gold goblet down on his table. “I refuse to accept this!”
Servius shrugged. “That’s what he said. And they’re refusing to leave the jail until you go talk to them, personally.”
Gallus nearly choked. “So help me all the gods, there is no way that I will go to that jail. They are not citizens. There is no possible way to prove this. Even if they are, who would believe them? I am the magistrate. I have the people on my side. This is my city.” He huffed. “Now go let these men know I will not be coming and send them on their way.” He picked up his goblet and shoved it at Leonidas to refill.
“Yes, Domine. Though I should let you know . . .” The lictor shifted his weight.
He spun around. “What? What, what, what?”
“The jailer is on their side.”
“You cannot be serious!” Gallus roared.
“He said if you do not come and apologize, personally, he will get word to Rome that you flogged citizens without a trial. He also said to remind you that, umm . . .”—He closed his eyes as reciting from memory—“Lydia the cloth merchant and Loukas the physician are fully aware of the situation and will use all their influence to make the facts known.”
Gallus slammed his freshly filled drink on his desk, splashing a good amount of it. Leaning on his palms, he thought through all his options.
He could still send his lictors back and command the outsiders to leave, or risk arrest.
Or he could send his lictors to the jail and just yank them out. Maybe beat them again. Flog them even. Keep them there forever, or banish them.
He forced out a long breath.
But would that troublesome Quin make good on his threat? And what would anyone, Vespasian perhaps, do? And how soon?
Decimus burst into the office without knocking, without announcement. “I told you this would come back to haunt you.”
Gallus didn’t have the energy to be outraged.
Yet another irritating old man to deal with. “Why are you here?”
Decimus stood in the middle of the office, face reddening. “How did you manage to arrest and beat citizens? I knew you would go too far one day, but this, this is more than even I would have imagined.”
“How was I supposed to know they were citizens? They are Jews!”
“This is Philippi! Nearly everyone is a citizen! All you had to do was allow them to speak. Even for one tiny, little moment. Five words.” He held up a hand, fingers spread wide. “Five. That’s all they needed to say.” He huffed and stomped toward the door. “You said you had this all under control. Now you very well could bring down the wrath of Rome on us.”
The wrath of Rome? “You’re overstating things just a bit, don’t you think?” Did Decimus always have to be so dramatic? No wonder he was unmarried. No woman would put up with this.
“If they appeal to Rome, we could lose our positions, our homes, everything. Don’t you remember Verres?”
Gallus rifled through names memorized long ago. “Governor of Sicily?”
“Besides bribing his way into power, extorting the farmers, and plundering the temples, he beat a citizen with rods.”
“And?”
“And he was exiled, since because he was a citizen, that was the worst they could do to him.”
“Wasn’t this almost one hundred years ago?”
Decimus’s face was now the color of the stripes on his tunic. “The laws haven’t changed! You still can’t scourge a citizen. Not only that, Philippi could lose its status as a colony. All its privileges—exemption from taxes, the right to vote—”
Now that was something to worry about. Something serious. More than serious. But he was not going to give Decimus the satisfaction.
He waved a hand. “I’m not even sure they are citizens. Do they have proof of their citizenship with them? Even if they do, how can we be sure it’s genuine?”
“Do you really want to risk everything you own and be banished to Gaul? Or Germania?”
“If they’re citizens, why didn’t they bring it up beforehand? In any of the many times they talked to nearly everyone in Philippi.”
“Would you have believed them any easier than you do now?”
Good question. He probably would have had them scourged longer, just for the impertinence.
“Just fix this.” Decimus stormed out of the basilica.
So why bring up their citizenship now, then, after they’d suffered?
To embarrass him? He could see that.
But an apology? Could he bring himself to apologize to these foreigners? Was that really the only thing that would put a stop to this entire episode?
This was all Max’s fault. He was the one who escalated this. If Max had only listened to him, they wouldn’t be in this situation now.
But the time for what-ifs had passed. And if he intended to keep his position and his power, he would just have to endure the humiliation. A few moments of pain for a lifetime of power.
He drained his glass and then turned to his lictors. “Bring me Max.”
If he had to suffer the indignities of an apology, then Max most certainly was going to suffer them too.
28
“Before a downfall the heart is haughty, but humility comes before honor.”
Proverbs 18:12
Gallus halted several strides away from the jail. He rolled his neck and sucked in a deep breath. Might as well get it over with. Too bad his lictors couldn’t find Max. Ga
llus would have to punish him later.
Stolos met them at the entrance. “The tribune and the prisoners are waiting for you.”
Quintus rose as Gallus entered the prison. “Magistrate. It’s good of you to come.”
Another deep breath. “As if you left me a choice.”
“It is you, rather, who left us no choice.” The one who appeared to be the leader of the visitors stood and approached.
Gallus swallowed what pride he had left. “I’m here, as you demanded.”
“We were allowed no trial. Never once did you allow us an opportunity to speak. Even an outsider should be given a chance to address the charges against him.”
Gallus kept his chin high, though he offered no retort.
“Then, even though we had no trial, no verdict, you handed down punishment.”
He’d hoped just showing up would be enough. Apparently not. Was he really expected to suffer a dressing down by this . . . this Jew? “What is it, then, you require of me?”
“We are Roman citizens. What you did was massively illegal. You do realize that, don’t you?” said Paulos.
Gallus closed his eyes. “I do. But it is done. What is it you want from me? Do you mean to ruin me? Destroy my career?”
“I think you’ve done a fairly good job yourself of that already.” Quin spoke from behind him.
“Quin. We agreed I would talk.” Paulos spoke gently.
Despite his nervousness, Gallus enjoyed seeing the jailer put in his place.
“What I want is for you to see us safely out of the city.”
“My lictors are standing by to do just that.”
“Not just yet. First, you personally will escort us to Lydia’s house.”
“Agreed.”
“And you will allow us to remain there until we are strong enough to travel.”
Gallus scoffed. “Absolutely not. I need you to leave now. Your presence here is a distraction. You’re responsible for one riot already. You must leave this morning.”
“That’s impossible! He can barely walk across the room.” Quin marched toward Gallus, the muscle in his jaw working.
He was friendly with these men, yes, but protective enough to threaten violence? When had that happened?
Before Gallus could step back, Paulos held up one finger.
The jailer stopped cold.
Astonishing. That old man could control a Roman soldier—a tribune, no less—without a word.
Quin pursed his lips and backed away. He crossed his arms over his chest, quiet, but not particularly happy about it.
Paulos returned his attention to Gallus. “You seem to be unable to grasp the fact that we are Roman citizens. We can prove it if you desire, but that of course will require we remain here while the witnesses to our testatios arrive from Tarsus.”
By Jupiter, no. “That won’t be necessary. But when you finally leave, you will never return.”
“It is illegal for you to banish us.”
Decimus’s wiry frame blocked the doorway. “All of your actions so far have been illegal. You have risked not only your own future but Philippi’s as well.”
“You told me to handle this. If you wish me to do that, you need to stop interrupting.”
“So what are they threatening?”
Silas spoke up. “We are not threatening anything.”
Gallus eyed the Jews. At some point during the argument with Decimus, the old man had returned to the lectus.
“Nothing? Then what’s the problem?” Decimus looked from Paulos to Gallus and back.
“They won’t leave today. They want to stay at the cloth merchant’s house until they are stronger.” He mocked them on the last word. They were probably faking it anyway. They just wanted to stay here longer to embarrass him.
“Then let them! Do you have any idea what a beating can do to a man his age? Look at them.” Decimus gestured to the pair.
The older man’s face was sunken, his eyes were red-rimmed. His skin was pale. He looked like he was half dead already.
“Ask them to remain at Lydia’s domus if you like, but let them stay.”
This was ridiculous. He didn’t come here to be outnumbered by all of them, including the senior duovir. He had to stand up for at least one thing. “Their presence here is dangerous! You saw what happened yesterday.”
Silas stepped forward. “There was no riot yesterday. The people came to hear charges presented and see us punished. They were allowed to get out of control because you ignored proper procedure, but it was far from a riot.”
“But—”
Decimus put his hand on Gallus’s shoulder. “Stop talking.” He looked to the visitors. “If we let you stay, you will not cause trouble for either Gallus or Philippi?”
Paulos shook his head. “We’re not looking for revenge. We only want to recover and heal a bit and say good-bye before we leave.”
Decimus grabbed a fistful of Gallus’s tunic and pulled him away from the others. “Until now, your shortcuts have endangered only your own ambitions. Now you have put the honor of Philippi at risk. Give them whatever they want. Because if this gets back to Rome somehow . . .”
Was it possible Decimus was far more devious than Gallus had thought? “I’ll destroy you if that happens. And your nephews.”
“I’ll take that chance. I’ve stood back and let you get away with too much as it is. I’ve watched you take advantage of nearly everyone you’ve come in contact with. If I lose my position by finally trying to stop you, I deserve it.”
He strode from the prison.
Gallus counted the man’s steps as he walked away, trying to cool his anger. Who did he think he was, coming in here, ordering him around as if he were a rebellious slave? In name Decimus was the senior duovir, but he knew very well Gallus had all the real power.
Usually.
This time, however, he seemed to have no choice but to do what the man asked.
As Decimus left, Quin cast a sideways glance at Paulos. His pain was growing worse. There was no telling what damage lay beneath the blue and purple bruises that covered his back and sides. He’d seen men die from less.
Gallus remained standing near the door, his back to them. Whatever words were exchanged between the duoviri, Gallus was not pleased. He’d never backed down before. What could have been said to make him shut up like that? And would he let them go now, or not?
Gallus turned around, glaring daggers. “I will escort you to Lydia’s, I will let you stay for five days, and then you will leave.” His words clipped, he was obviously still angry with his senior magistrate.
“We’ll stay until we are healed.” Silas spoke quietly but firmly.
He blew out a slow breath. “Will you require anything else from me?”
“Just the escort to Lydia’s.”
“Anything else?”
“No, thank you, Magistrate, that will be quite sufficient.” Paulos struggled to stand.
“As long as you’re happy then.” Gallus marched outside, his toga fluttering behind him.
No public apology? Shouldn’t they at least get that? Make sure the townspeople knew they were innocent?
Quin kept his mouth shut and moved to Paulos’s side, slipping his arm under the man’s bicep.
Paulos groaned as Quin helped him stand. They gingerly took the stairs down to the Via, then stepped down to the floor of the forum.
Following the duovir and his lictors, the small group dove into the sea of Romans, Greeks, and Macedonians that already crowded the forum. The primus lictor preceded his ruler, calling loudly for all to make way for the magistrate.
Quin and Silas flanked Paulos, offering some protection from the bustling townspeople.
Rather than his usual parading posture, strutting slowly and allowing time for all to notice him, Gallus fairly scurried southeast across the forum toward the residential district, head down, shoulders hunched. It was almost comical.
They had nearly reached the villa district when Max char
ged at their small group like a runaway carriage. Servius and his partner formed a wall in front of Gallus, but they needn’t have bothered. The man ran straight for Paulos.
Moving quickly, Quin caught Max before he slammed into Paulos.
Max reached around him, grabbing for Paulos. “Why is he free? Why did you let him out?” His hands grasped at empty air.
“I had to let them go,” Gallus said. “They’re citizens.”
“They’re lying!” Max continued to try to crawl over Quin, straining to reach Paulos.
Quin struggled to hold him back. Although Quin was a head taller, Max’s anger made him amazingly strong.
“He has ruined me! I’ve lost almost everything. I’ll never be able to replace her, and now you tell me there is nothing I can do about it?” Max relaxed, nearly collapsing onto Quin. He gave up fighting and shoved Quin away from him.
The magistrate neared his friend. “Max, listen to me.”
“Gallus, you can’t let this happen!” he begged, his hands clasped in front of his chest. “You are the duovir. There must be something you can do.”
He grasped Max’s arms. “There is nothing I can do to them. But they’ll be leaving Philippi soon. That’s the best you can hope for.” He shrugged.
“You are a traitor! And a terrible friend.” Max, weeping, stumbled away, headed for his domus.
The crowds stopped talking, started whispering, gossiping. Many were pointing at their ruler, standing forlornly in the middle of the forum.
Now Quin could see why there was no need for a public apology. Everyone would know they were innocent soon enough.
When they neared Lydia’s domus, Gallus didn’t even slow down. He simply marched past, leaving Quin and the others to knock at the courtyard gate as he left them behind. Quin almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
But he’d brought it all on himself.
Inside, Lydia met them with hugs, and Loukas offered pain medicine.
Syntyche brought out meat and roasted vegetables. Fruit already awaited them. “We went to the market as soon as the sun rose to purchase the best meat we could find.”
Sold Into Freedom Page 27
