As Sure as the Dawn (16 page)

The boy looked mutinous, as did his younger brother Barna~bas, while little Mary and Benjamin clung to their mother’s sides.

Prochorus was a baker, and with him were his wife, Rhoda, and his sister Camella with her daughter Lysia. The man looked harassed, less by persecution for his faith than by the two women who stood on either side of him. Neither looked at the other. Lysia was the only member of the family who looked serene.

Four young men arrived, having heard from others that a band of Christians were leaving Ephesus. Bartimaeus, Niger, Tibullus, and Agabus, all not yet twenty, had already received the blessings of their families to go out into the world and spread the gospel. “There are voices enough here,” Niger said. “But what of Gaul or Britannia?”

“We want to spread the good news to those who haven’t heard it yet,” Agabus said.

The last man to arrive was Mnason. Rizpah was immediately impressed by his manner of speech.

Eunice leaned close. “He’s a well-known
hypocrite,”
she said in a whisper and smiled. Rizpah noted the way her eyes shone as she spoke. Apparently the woman was quite pleased at the prospect of being in the company of a renowned actor. “He’s called frequently to perform readings before the proconsul and other Roman officials. Isn’t he handsome?”

“Yes, he is,” Rizpah agreed, though she thought him somewhat affected. Mnason was a man of obvious dignity and polish, his voice proclaiming careful training and deliberation. He drew attention and was comfortable with it, almost expecting it. “Mnason recited one of King David’s psalms to guests of the city clerk who’d gathered for a feast the night before the Plebeian Games,” Eunice said softly, lifting little Antonia onto her lap.

“Which song did he recite?”

“Psalm two. ‘Worship God with reverence, and rejoice with trembling. Do homage to the son.’ At first, the guests thought Mnason was giving honor to their newly deified emperor, Vespasian, and his son Titus, now our illustrious caesar. Others suspected otherwise. Someone demanded an explanation, but Mnason said his courage failed him at that point. He told them the writer had been inspired of God, but that he did not know which god and the meaning was for each man and woman present to discern for themselves. ‘If you have ears to hear, you will hear,’ he said. Most of the guests thought it a riddle then and made a game of guessing. There were some who were not amused.”

Porcia joined them. “I don’t think Mnason should go with us. He’ll draw attention to us.”

Rizpah thought Mnason would draw far less attention than Atretes. The German would overshadow Mnason in an instant. Atretes wouldn’t even have to open his mouth or utter a word. His physical beauty was enough to command attention and his fierce charisma fascinated.

“The only ship taking on passengers is one from Alexandria,” Cleopas said. “It’s scheduled to leave in two days, weather permitting.”

“What’s its destination?” John said.

“Rome.”

“Rome!” Prochorus said in dismay.

“Have you ever heard Mnason recite?” Eunice asked Rizpah.

“No, I haven’t,” she said, wishing the woman would pay more attention to her two sons, Capeo and Philomen, who were arguing over a toy, and leave her alone to hear what the men were saying.

“The Lord blessed him with a remarkable voice and memory,” Eunice said, oblivious to her sons’ squabblings, her eyes fixed in admiration on Mnason. “When he became a Christian, he was hungry to learn as much Scripture as he could, and he did. He can recite over a hundred psalms and he knows Paul’s letter to our church in its entirety. When he’s reciting, I feel as though I’m hearing God’s voice.”

“I’ve heard the persecution is worse there,” Parmenas was saying.

“Are we going to Rome, Mama?” Antonia said, confused and frightened by the heightened emotions of the adults in the room. Eunice kissed her cheek. “Wherever we go, the Lord will go with us,” she said, smoothing the child’s hair back.

“How can we go to Rome?” Porcia said, her face pale and strained. “Who will protect us?”

“The Lord will protect us,” Mnason said, having overheard her remark.

“As he’s protected us here?” Porcia said, her eyes filling with tears. “As he protected Stachys and Amplias? As he protected Junia and Persis? As he protected Hadassah?” she pressed, listing fellow Christians who had been sentenced to death in the arena.

“Hush, Porcia,” Timon said, embarrassed by her outburst.

She wouldn’t be hushed. “You’ve been beaten, Timon. Everything we’ve worked for has been destroyed. Our lives have been threatened, our children tormented. And now we’re to go to Rome where they make Christians into torches to light the arena for their games? I’d rather go into the wilderness and starve.”

Little Mary began to cry. “I don’t want to starve.”

“You’re upsetting the children, Porcia.”

She drew the two little ones close. “What of our children, Timon? Mary and Benjamin are too young to even understand what it means to believe in Jesus as Lord. What happens if—”

“Enough!” Timon commanded, and she fell silent, her mouth working as she fought her tears.

Rizpah put her hand over Porcia’s and squeezed. She understood the woman’s fears very well, for Caleb was her own primary concern. Hadn’t she come here to John in an effort to find a way of protecting Caleb from being used by Sertes? She wanted Caleb to grow up strong in the Lord and not in captivity as a pawn used against his father. If Atretes or Sertes took him from her, he would never have the opportunity to know the Lord.

O God, show us a way to bring our children out of this.
What would it be like to live in a place where one could worship freely without fear? What would it be like to see buildings rise to the glory of God rather than to some empty pagan idol? Rome tolerated every religion conceived by man and denied the very living God who had created her and the world in which her inhabitants lived. Rizpah closed her eyes.

Almighty Father, you created the heavens above and around us. All other religions are man’s attempt to reach God. The Way is God’s attempt to reach man, giving up his throne and becoming incarnate. Every religion man created brought him into bondage while Christ stood arms outstretched in love, already having set men free.

O Father, why are we so blind? In Christ Jesus, we are free. We need not fear anything. Even a slave can have wings like an eagle and soar into the heavens. Even a slave can open his heart and God will dwell within him. Why can’t we accept the gift without question and be convinced that no walls, no chains, not even death itself can hold captive the mind, heart, and soul that belongs to Christ?

It took hearing Porcia’s fears to make her see her own failings where she herself too often erred.

You
are my sustenance, Jesus, my life. Forgive my forgetfulness.

She felt joy bursting within her, a swelling bright and warm that made her want to cry out in exultation.

“Even fear can be used to God’s good purpose,” John was saying, his gentle eyes on Porcia. “I was afraid of death the night they took Jesus from the Garden of Gethsemane. I despaired when I watched him die. Even after I knew Jesus had arisen, I knew fear. When my brother James was cut down by the sword on Herod’s order, I was afraid. Jesus had given his mother into my keeping, and I and the brethren needed to get her out of Jerusalem to safety. I brought her here to Ephesus, where she remained until she went to be with the Lord.”

He smiled sadly. “We’ve all known fear, Porcia, and still do at vulnerable moments in our lives. But fear is not of God. God is love. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. Jesus Christ is our refuge and our fortress against any and all enemies. Trust in him.”

Rizpah could feel Porcia relaxing beside her. John’s words of assurance were a mere reflection of the assurance of Christ within him. It was impossible not to believe in the presence of the apostle. But what about later?

Timon came and stood behind his wife, one hand on her shoulder, as they all listened to the apostle speak. Porcia put her hand over Timon’s and looked up at him.

“Persecution drove us from Jerusalem,” John said, “but Christ used it to good purpose. Wherever we go, be it Ephesus, Corinth, Rome, or even as far as the frontiers of Germania,” he said, smiling at Rizpah, “the Lord himself goes with us. He is our provision as we carry the gospel to his children.”

Germania,
she thought. Surely, it could not be the barbaric place she had heard it was.

As the men talked over plans to leave Ephesus and Ionia, Rizpah gave in to exhaustion. Curled on her side, Caleb held close, she slept. Some time later, Caleb awakened her, hungry. As she rose, she noted that someone had covered her with a blanket and left the brazier burning. The others were gone. As she nursed Caleb, she went to the window and looked out. The man was no longer standing beside the building down the street.

Cleopas entered. “You’re awake.”

“He’s gone,” she said, turning from the window.

“Someone replaced him several hours ago. The new man is in the
fanum
across the street. Sit. You’ll need to eat before you leave. You haven’t much time before you must return to Atretes, and I’ve much to tell you before you go. I’ll awaken Lysia. She’s agreed to exchange clothing with you. She’s going to leave with a bundle Caleb’s size. Hopefully, the man outside will follow her.” He left and returned a few minutes later with a tray of food and a pitcher of watered wine. While she ate, he explained the details of what had transpired the night before while she slept.

“The final arrangements are being made as we speak. All you need to do is take the information to Atretes and be at the ship by midnight tomorrow.”

“Do any of those accompanying us know how to reach Atretes’ homeland?”

“No, but John has gone to speak with a man who was in Germania ten years ago. His name is Theophilus and he mentioned wanting to carry the gospel to the frontier. If he chooses to go with you and Atretes now, he can guide you. If not, he’ll be able to draw out a map and give instructions of how best to reach his destination.”

“I don’t think I’ve met him.”

Cleopas smiled. “You would remember him if you had.”

Atretes walked through the open, unguarded gate late the following afternoon. He entered the back of the villa and strode through the baths and gymnasium to the inner corridor. Lagos was sitting in the kitchen, eating a modest meal while talking to the cook when their master entered. Both were startled to see him. “My lord!” Lagos said, bumping the table as he rose.

Picking up a loaf of unleavened bread, Atretes tore off half and sat down to eat. Within a few minutes, the cook had placed a plate of fruit, sliced meat, and boiled eggs in front of him. Atretes glanced at Lagos as he peeled an egg. “Did Rizpah return?”

Lagos frowned slightly. “No, my lord. I thought you sent her away.”

“I did.”

“Do you wish me to send for her, my lord?”

“Would you know where to send?” he said dryly.

“Wherever you instruct, my lord.”

Atretes barked a dark laugh and ate the egg. The woman be cursed. He knew where the apostle lived. He would start with him. When he found her, she would wish she had never been born.

In silence, he finished the rest of the food that had been placed before him. Scorning the elegant silver goblet, he drank the wine from the pitcher. Emptying it, he slammed it down, making both slaves jump. Glowering at them contemptuously, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he rose. “Send Silus to my room,” he said and left.

By the time the guard arrived, Atretes had changed into a fresh tunic and was tying the leather strips of his heavy belt. “We’re going into the city,” he said, picking up a dagger and shoving it into its sheath.

“I’ll send for more guards, my lord.”

“No. Just you. More guards will draw attention.” He pushed the knife into the belt and donned a long flowing Arabic robe. “The woman Rizpah took something I want back.”

“Rizpah, my lord? She was here a short while ago.”

Atretes head came up sharply. “Here?”

“At the gate, not more than an hour ago.” The color was seeping from his face. “She said she wanted to speak with you, but I sent her away.”

“Without telling me?”

Silus stood rigid, whitefaced. “You cast her out, my lord. Your orders were very clear.”

Atretes said one short, exceedingly foul word. “Where is she now?
Speak, you fool!”

Silus swallowed. “She left, my lord.”

“Which direction did she go?”

“I don’t know, my lord,” he stammered. “She turned away and I closed the gate.”

Atretes grabbed him by the throat, his heart pounding a battle beat. “Then I suggest you go and find her,
fast,”
he said through his teeth and shoved him back.

Silus left quickly, the sound of his cingulum jangling loudly as he ran down the corridor to the stairs. Atretes strode out on the balcony and scanned the road. Rizpah was nowhere to be seen. Swearing, he turned and came back inside. Impatience burned through him, he threw off the robe and shouted out a string of German curses.

The house was still and utterly silent. Undoubtedly, the servants had already run for their usual hiding places.

Atretes strode out onto the balcony again. The gate stood open. Silus was running down the road toward the city. Atretes clenched his teeth in frustration.

“Atretes,” came a hushed voice behind him. He swung around and saw Rizpah standing just inside his doorway, a finger to her lips. She closed the door quietly as he came inside.

Annoyed at the way his heart jumped at the sight of her, he was terse. “You’re late!”

She gave a soft laugh of surprise as he strode toward her. “I wasn’t exactly greeted at the gate. I had to sneak in.”

Atretes resented the rush of strong emotions he felt. She was flushed, her eyes bright. Worse, she seemed perfectly at peace, while the last two days of his life had been filled with torment. “Silus said he turned you away. How’d you manage to get in?”

He sounded as though he wished she hadn’t come back. “Someone left the back gate door open.” She unwrapped the shawl sling as she crossed the room. “You?”