Fire and Sword (21 page)

“Peter. Peter!”

Peter was snoring.

Gabriel kicked him on his side. Peter stirred and looked around.

“Peter. Get up quickly.”

Peter rubbed his eyes. He saw what appeared to be the figure of a man in front of him. His cell door stood wide open. The shackles binding his wrists fell open. He was just realizing what was happening. He looked at the guards on either side—still sleeping.

“Get up. Get dressed.”

Peter looked around and found his cloak and sandals and put them on. He gingerly stepped around the sleeping guards and out of the cell. He looked at the man who was leading him.

“Follow me,” the stranger said.

“Am I dreaming? Or is this happening?”

“Quiet. Follow me.”

Peter walked past the first set of guards. They were in conversation, but they didn’t even notice—it was as if Peter was invisible to them. They came to the second set of guards, and the same thing happened. Peter even stopped and stood directly in front of the guard. He made a face at him.

“Stop it. Come on!”

“Just had to,” he said.

Gabriel smiled.

They stepped out into the courtyard that led to the city street. As they did, cheers went up from the holy angels. The angels who had been with Necros, seeing that the battle was over, scattered, cursing and howling as they went. Peter came to an iron gate in the wall. The door opened by itself! They walked together to the end of the street. Peter turned to the stranger to thank him—and he was gone.

“Necros, you have failed.”

“Lord Kara, I could not contend with such a force. And if I may be so bold, neither could you.”

Kara struck the angel, who fell to his knees. He looked around the empty cell. The guards were nervously awaiting Herod’s arrival. The open cell door and the shackles on the floor gave evidence of the enemy’s intrusion. Kara looked around, admiring the dingy prison.

“I hope you’ll be happy here, Necros. This is your station from now on.”

“Please…”

“Those fools are in for it as well,” he said, pointing to the guards. “There will be blood spilled for this one. Good-bye, Necros!”

Kara vanished.

“Majesty! Welcome!” came a voice from the outer cell.

The guards stood to attention as Herod came in. Herod looked at the guards, then examined the empty cell. Claerus was with him, along with some palace guards. Herod stepped into the empty cell.

“Claerus, I’m not sure, but wasn’t this cell occupied just a few hours ago?”

“I saw to it myself, Majesty.”

“And these were used?” Herod continued, picking up the shackles.

“They were.”

Herod threw them down and approached the guards.

“You were not only assigned to this man. You were shackled to him, were you not?”

“Yes, sire, but…”

“And the key was in the other room?”

“Yes, but …”

Herod looked at the guards, lined up.

“So you were all in it together. What are you? Followers of this cult? You allowed this man to escape his execution?”

“The swordsman has already been paid, Majesty,” Claerus said.

The guards looked at each other. One lowered his head.

“Pity to waste money,” said Herod. “See to it that he earns his pay today.”

“I’ll see to it personally,” Claerus said, looking at the guards.

One of the guards called out as Herod left: “Your day is coming, King Herod!”

Chronicles of the Host

Paphos, on Cyprus, A.D. 45

“Saul. Saul!”

“It’s
Paul
now, John Mark,” said Paul. “Saul is dead to me. I am a new man. Besides, the name Paul plays better among these Gentiles.”

John Mark smiled. He was a young man of mid-twenties. He was a friend of Barnabas and was able to come along only with Barnabas’ sponsorship. He was grateful for the opportunity to serve with these men of God.

Paul looked behind John Mark and saw Barnabas in conversation with an official-looking man. John Mark pointed him out eagerly.

“Paul, that man is from the proconsul. He is sending for you!”

“I knew the Spirit would lead us,” he said. “Let’s meet him.”

Paul walked up and was introduced to Elymas, an attendant of the Roman governor of Cyprus, Sergius Paulus. Barnabas stood aside as the man spoke.

“My master, Sergius Paulus, proconsul of Rome, welcomes you to Cyprus and would have an audience with you.”

“I’m honored,” said Paul, in Greek. “When shall we meet him?”

“Today,” said Elymas. “But he isn’t feeling well so it should be a brief audience.”

“I see you look out for your master,” Paul said.

“I do.”

As they walked off together, Paul whispered to Barnabas. “Yes, but which master does he serve?”

Barnabas laughed. But Paul was serious.

“My lord, Saul is landed in Cyprus.”

Lucifer looked up at Kara. “I’m surprised at you, Kara. It’s
Paul
now, haven’t you heard?”

Some of the council snickered.

“Yes. Seems he has taken to a Gentile name in order to be more amiable,” said Pellecus. “But no worries, Cyprus is under my authority. All is well.”

Kara sat down at the table with the others. They had met to discuss the recent intrusions of the Church—the latest being Paul’s mission to Cyprus. Lucifer waved a hand, and a map of the region of the eastern Mediterranean appeared—like a wall hanging suspended in air.

“No worries?” Lucifer commented, as he made his way to the map. “First we couldn’t stop the Seed from coming. Then we couldn’t stop Him from coming back. Then we were to hold the line in Jerusalem …”

“Pentecost put a damper on that one,” Pellecus said.

The others laughed.

“Not a laughing matter,” said Lucifer. “With the Spirit of the Most High involved they became more bold.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Berenius spoke up.

“We hit them hard, my lord. We were killing many of them in the name of religion. The Pharisees…”

“Yes, Berenius. We made a mistake. We thought to kill the monster. Instead we encouraged it. They not only fled Jerusalem, they took the Church with them. And we created an even bigger problem with Saul.”

“
Paul
, my lord,” Kara corrected.

Lucifer grinned. He pointed out the progress of the Church on the map.

“From a dozen weak, meager humans, this movement has become a critical obstacle to our efforts. They began here, in Jerusalem, and have now created havens throughout—they even have a second authority in Antioch.”

“How did the prophecy go,” Pellecus began. “Jerusalem, Samaria, Judea…”

“And the outermost parts,” Lucifer finished. “Now, Pellecus, Paul is in Cyprus—your authority as you pointed out. And he is at the home of Sergius Paulus. How are you handling it?”

Kara looked at his rival, Pellecus, anticipating a scolding by Lucifer. Instead, Pellecus stood up proudly.

“It’s handled, lord,” he said. “While it is true that Sergius Paulus has an interest in religion, I have made certain of one Elymas—who is invested with a spirit of sorcery—to influence the proconsul and keep Paul at bay. We’ll have no trouble in Cyprus!”

The home of the proconsul was a fine villa on a hill overlooking the sea. Paul had seen such opulence before, but Barnabas and John Mark were astonished at such splendor. Paul noticed how the servants seemed to shy away from Elymas as he led them to the balcony area overlooking the water. A gentle breeze blew the sheer curtains draped from a colonnaded archway. Seated in a simple chair, in simpler tunic, was Sergius Paulus, proconsul of Rome. He stood to greet Paul.

“Saul of Tarsus! Greetings!”

Paul looked back at John Mark and winked. “Thank you, Proconsul. And it’s
Paul
now.”

“Ah, good. A Greek move with a Roman strategy!”

The two men embraced, and Paul introduced his companions. Sergius was a man who seemed quite at home in his villa. Well connected in Rome, he had been appointed proconsul when Claudius became emperor a few years earlier. A studious man, he was more at home with philosophers than diplomats.

Elymas whispered something to an attendant, who disappeared. The men sat down. Paul had a bad feeling about Elymas, and even as Sergius talked about his appointment to Cyprus, Paul discerned that there was something amiss about the man. Something false. What was it?

“Tell me something of this new teaching, Paul,” Sergius said, picking up a drink.

“It is called the Good News, Proconsul,” Paul said. “It is God’s message to all men and women who would believe on His name.”