Empire's End (31 page)

I had not taken my eyes from his and felt not a grain of trepidation. “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to unhand me or suffer the consequences.”

His blink told me it had likely been decades since anyone had spoken to him with such audacity. He released his grip but appeared to be fighting to maintain his look of intimidation.

“Decimus, is your personal seal close by?”

“Why do you—?”

“I am here under authority of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,
Creator of the universe and the unknown God. Do not make me ask again.”

“Yes, but—”

“Get it, a flint, a candle, and an inkwell, and do not delay.”

“But I—”

“You delay at your own peril, sir.”

As he strode away I swung my bag around to the side and pulled from it a sheet of parchment and a quill and set these on a table. When Decimus returned, he said, “I don't know what you think is going to happen here, but—”

“Sit down,” I said, as I sat.

He sat with his arms crossed as if he were through obeying.

“Taryn,” I called out, “would you come down, please?”

“Oh, Paul,” she said, a whine in her voice.

“Do not fear, love,” I said. “The Lord reigns.”

As she descended, looking terrified, Balbus slowly craned his neck. “What is this?” he growled.

“Is Anna next door?” I said.

“I believe so,” Taryn said.

“Bring her and Corydon here, please.”

“Paul . . .”

I looked directly at her, willing her to trust me. “All is well. I would not endanger any of you.”

Balbus scowled at me. “If you think for a moment—”

“No doubt you were a student of history, were you not, Decimus?”

“I still am.”

“Then you know how Herod the Great died. Fever, unbearable itching, intestinal pain, foot tumors, abdominal inflammation, gangrene where you least want it, asthma, convulsions, and foul breath.”

“So?”

“God wants you to know that if you do not do exactly as He instructs, through me you will suffer more. The death of Herod the Great will be forgotten in light of the demise of Decimus Calidius Balbus the Worse.”

Anna arrived, pale and thin and appearing even more frightened than Taryn. “Paul?” she said, peeking timidly at Balbus, who glared at her. “You saw Nadav?”

“And so shall you.”

Corydon stopped and stared, then ran and jumped into my lap, shouting, “Master Paul!” I held him close and asked him to be quiet while I finished talking with the general.

“Now, Decimus, let us be civil in front of the child.”

“Just tell me what you want,” he snarled.

I slid the parchment and the inkwell in front of him and handed him the quill, while I used the flint to light the candle. “Simply write what I dictate. Sign, press your seal in the wax, and then we will be on our way to the government offices to execute your wishes.”

“What if what you dictate does not represent my wishes?”

“That is your decision, sir. The option is the demise of Decim—”

“Get on with it.”

I directed him to date the document, then identify himself by his full name, and write:

I hereby grant Taryn bat Alastor of Jerusalem a divorce and her unconditional freedom, effective immediately, and unimpeded passage to her hometown at my expense
.

I hereby grant Corydon bar Stephen of Jerusalem his unconditional freedom, effective immediately, and unimpeded passage to his hometown at my expense
.

I hereby grant Nadav bar Jeremiah and his wife, Anna of Emmaus, their unconditional freedom, effective immediately, and unimpeded passage to their hometown at my expense
.

I hereby grant the three children of Nadav bar Jeremiah and his wife, Anna of Emmaus, their unconditional freedom, effective immediately, and unimpeded passage to their hometown with an adult patron to accompany them and ensure reuniting with their parents, at my expense
.

Further I pledge full recompense to the buyer of the same children
.

Further I pledge no recriminations to any above-named individuals
.

Signed and sealed
 . . .

Balbus slouched as I fanned the document till the wax hardened. Taryn, Corydon, and Anna took several minutes to gather their meager belongings.

“Keep the jewelry and the clothes,” Decimus muttered as he stood slowly and meekly joined us at the door.

“I want none of it,” Taryn said, avoiding his eyes.

“Just something to remember me by?” he said.

“I'll try to forget every moment.”

“Have you no pity?” he said. “I've lost everything. My title, my rank, my commission, my home, my salary, my future. Now you.”

“You never had me.”

“You were my wife.”

“I had no choice.”

“Was there nothing you liked about me, at least respected about me?”

“No.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Then I was a good actress. I hated everything.”

“You didn't come to care for me?”

“I came to loathe you more every day. You can't massacre a woman's father and all her friends, kidnap her, force her to marry you, and expect anything else, you fool.”

Taryn led the way out, Corydon in hand, Anna close behind.

“Oh,” I said, “two boxes were delivered in back for you.”

I waited nearby and stayed out of sight as the women presented the document at government headquarters. I no longer feared being recognized, as the Lord had made it clear He was going before me on this trip. But I didn't want to cause undue turmoil.

I saw furrowed brows and heard much murmuring as the superiors and the clerks talked among themselves, agreeing the document was in the deposed general's own hand and looked in order. They studied the women and the boy, and I knew events were set in motion when they began checking schedules and counting money, scratching out vouchers, and telling Taryn and Anna where to find inns, transports, and the like.

They were also instructed where to lodge that night, what transport they would take back through Antipatris to pick up Nadav, and how they would get to Jerusalem. When asked if they had arrangements there, Taryn mentioned her friend Mary, who we both knew would be overjoyed to help her and Anna.

Yet another official told Anna when she might expect the return of her children, which caused her to dissolve into tears.

The inn where they were to stay that night was not far from where I was staying, so we agreed to eat there together. Just as the women were
receiving the last of the details, a legionnaire ran into the room and spoke urgently to a commanding officer. I followed him back down to the street and pulled him aside. “Pardon me, but I have accompanied General Balbus' former wife here. Did I just hear—”

“He's dead, sir. The prefect sent me to retrieve the last of his government-issued equipment and to order him out of his home immediately, and I discovered Balbus had taken delivery of some weapons, one of them a spatha—the new long sword. He had fallen on it and run himself through.”

“An accident?”

“Unmistakably not. He had to wedge the hilt under the stairs and set the tip under his belly. It was ghastly, a gruesome scene. Reminded me of the worst battlefields I've witnessed.”

I nodded. “Like one I saw not long ago, which included women and children.”

The officer shook his head and spat. “Who would do that?”

“Only one who deserved the same fate,” I said.

That night as the four of us sat outside eating a light dinner, Corydon nodded off. He had been puzzled but excited about the news of a trip back to Jerusalem, a city he barely remembered. Anna was still bewildered about all that had happened. I tried to explain how God had intervened, but I was still reeling myself.

She said, “I know that, Paul. I know He is able and I have seen Him do it before. But I can't believe Nadav and I didn't forever break ourselves from Him with our sin. And from you! We were selfish! We were horrid. And look what we brought upon our brothers and sisters in Yanbu! We will never be able to forgive ourselves.

“We don't deserve to live, let alone to be free, to have each other, to get
our children back. How could you help me? How could you do anything but leave me to get what I deserved?”

“Truthfully, Anna, when I saw the general's house guarded like a fortress, the most I hoped for was a glimpse of Taryn and perhaps to sneak a message to her and to you. And yes, in my flesh I confess I'm not capable of that kind of grace. Can I deny I wished the worst for Nadav and you? I cannot. God Himself had to remind me that I was no better. It was I who drove you and those like you to the desert. I was one who brought pain and persecution upon the people of The Way, the children of God. If I am to be forgiven, I must forgive.”

“I don't deserve it.”

“None of us do.”

Taryn had wept through the entire meal, and when Corydon was awake he had pestered her, asking her why. She would not answer. I knew it had all been just too much for her, had happened too fast. Finally she said, “Anna, would you sit here with Corydon so I can talk to Paul? We leave before he does in the morning.”

This brought a new flood of tears from Anna. “That you would trust me with your child after what I have done . . .”

Taryn took both her hands in hers. “Please. We won't be long.”

CAESAREA

J
UST TWO DAYS BEFORE
, I had no idea where General Balbus had taken Taryn and I despaired of ever seeing her again. I pleaded that God would grant me the fortitude to carry out my calling in spite of such pain.

I admit that, despite the myriad ways He had proven Himself to me since my conversion, my faith was weak. I missed her, longed for her, needed her, worried about her, prayed for her.

To now be able to take the hand of this free woman with whom I was deeply in love, to stroll the dark, deserted streets to the harbor and feel the warm ocean breeze on my face, was a privilege that overwhelmed me with gratefulness.

Yet even as we walked, a battle raged within me. I knew beyond doubt that if I simply asked her, Taryn would join me in the adventure of a lifetime, and we would follow the Lord wherever He led—taking His gospel to the ends of the earth, facing every trial together.

Everything in me longed for God to bestow upon me this priceless gift, yet I dared not ask, knew better than even to broach it with Him. Deep in my heart, I could not hide from the painful truth that mine was a human, fleshly, selfish wish. God had called me to die to myself. He had called me to slavery. Willing as Taryn might be to come alongside so I wouldn't have to confront such adversity alone, I could not, would not ask her. In fact, even if she herself suggested it, I would not allow it.

In all this I was touched by God's compassion for me. The prospect of this great solo venture for the rest of my life was a fearful thing that I could at least comprehend approaching with Taryn at my side. Yet I trusted Him, believed in His sovereignty, His goodness.

Difficult as it was, I knew sacrificing our love was the right thing. I rested in the knowledge that He knew best. I did not understand His purpose in having weaved me into her family only to ultimately keep us apart—especially after using me to help free her from captivity.

But His leading was clear.

The time is short, for this world is passing away. Serve Me without care, without encumbrance. I have ordained that you will suffer persecution beyond what you can imagine now. He who is unmarried is free to care for how he may please Me. But he who is married must care about how he may please his wife. The unmarried woman cares about the things of the Lord, that she may be holy both in body and in spirit. But she who is married cares about how she may please her husband
.

I say for your own profit, serve Me without distraction. My grace is sufficient
.

Taryn and I walked in silence until we saw the silhouette of the great ship that would carry me toward my hometown in the morning. The hour was
growing late, and torches encircled it as dozens of hands loaded cargo and trimmed the riggings.

I carefully scanned the area to be sure no one could see us, then found a low piling about forty feet off the starboard bow, brushed it off, and we sat. As Taryn settled between my knees with her back to me, I encircled her waist, my hands clasped, and she leaned back, her head on my chest. We sat without speaking for several minutes as waves lapped at the side of the ship and gulls mourned. We were far enough from the working men that though we could hear them talking and laughing, we couldn't decipher their words.

“I'm incredibly sad,” Taryn said at last.

“Yes, love. I am, too.”

“You agree, then?” she said.

“Of course.”

She looked up at me and I kissed her. I brushed tears from her cheeks as she turned again to stare at the ship. “This is all there is for us,” she said.

“I know.”

“When I wrote my last message to you, I believed you would ask me to marry you one day.”

“Had I gotten it a day earlier I probably would have. What would you have said?”

“You know, Paul.”

“I still have your message. It's with me all the time, even now.” I pulled it from my bag and tilted it toward a faint torchlight to make out the writing.

“When did you know?” she said.

“Know?”

“That he had damaged me, made me unfit for you?”

My breath came shallow and I fought to find words. “Taryn,” I
managed finally, “you must hear me. When your father told me you and Corydon had been the only ones spared, I knew what that implied. That you were alive was all that mattered to me. I—”

“But it meant—”

“That you were alive was
all
that mattered to me. That was the Taryn I knew. You did what you had to do, not to spare your own life but for the sake of your son! And by doing that you protected the people I love most in this world.”