Man of God (11 page)

Paulus had lit a lamp in their bedroom and
extinguished the ones in the hallway. He followed her inside and
closed the door. The light flickered over the furnishings…the
large, comfortable bed, the wooden chests, the couch against one
wall, the writing table and chair.

Alysia walked to the far end of the room and
turned to face him. He saw that, in spite of the warmth, she was
shivering.

“I’m truly sorry,” he said at once, wondering
why she looked so stricken…like a mortally wounded doe. “I’m sorry
that she came and brought this trouble upon us. But I don’t believe
she will tell anyone. She needs that money and she knows there’s a
good chance she won’t get any of it if anything happens to us.”

“Paulus, are we really married?”

He stared at her. “Of course we’re married!
You heard what I told Megara.”

“Then you are divorced.”

The word hung in the air between them. After
a moment of stunned disbelief, he walked toward her and grabbed her
arm. “Listen to me,” he said sharply. “Once before you tried to
make this a stumbling block between us when it wasn’t necessary. I
don’t mean Megara herself. I mean what you perceive to be our
appearance before others. We believed Megara was dead, and had no
reason to even suspect otherwise. We explained this to our friends.
If any of them are so weak as to let this affect their faith, then
that is their problem, not ours!”

“But some
are
weak! Can you not have
compassion for them?”

“Of course I can—it tears me apart to think
what Megara did to them. I keep thinking about Horatius’
daughter-in-law, and how she might have been close to believing. If
she sees us as hypocrites, it could stop her and turn her against
the faith, and prevent her from ever listening to anyone else. But
that’s just an
excuse
, Alysia. If such a shallow thing as
the behavior of someone else could affect a person’s decision—then
they are just looking for something to justify themselves! They’re
not really seeking the truth.”

“How can you not be angry with Megara? What
she did is unforgivable!”

“I am furious with her—and I said some things
I shouldn’t have. But I will forgive her, because if I don’t, I
only harm myself.”

Alysia slowly removed her arm from his
grasp.

He said quietly, “I would never deliberately
do anything to cause someone to stumble in their faith, Alysia. But
this we cannot help. It’s done. Just pray for those in our charge,
and trust God to help them understand.”

“Maybe we should be serving God in some other
way, Paulus. “

“You mean where we don’t have to prove
ourselves worthy? Well, there are none worthy, Alysia.
None
.
We have both felt the call of God on our lives to do this, and if
this is to be your attitude, you’ll wallow in misery for the rest
of your life.”

She didn’t answer.

“I’m going for a walk,” he said.

CHAPTER VIII

Rachel shifted impatiently, waiting at the
back of the house for her father. She was dressed in the dark blue,
knee-length tunic she always wore for archery practice. She pulled
experimentally on the string of the bow her father had made for
her; she picked up the quiver made of leather and adjusted it
around her shoulder and back. She needed more arrows…these were
getting dull, but she seldom asked for anything. Her father would
notice, and would either sharpen them or make new ones. The bedroom
door opened and Paulus came out. There was a worried frown on his
face that she hadn’t seen in a long time, but it smoothed out at
once when he saw her.

“Ready?” he asked, smiling. “Have you eaten
breakfast?”

“Let’s wait until we get back. Where’s
Mother?”

“Still sleeping. Have you got everything?
Where are your arm bands?”

She grabbed the pouch lying on a table as
Paulus collected his own bow and quiver full of arrows. She almost
skipped with glee as they left the house and started through the
woods. She’d been afraid it was going to rain, and ruin their day,
but it held off and once in a while a white shaft of sunlight would
pierce through the clouds. She looked forward to the time she spent
with her father, and he was always generous with his time, never
acting hurried or distracted—no matter how busy he was.

Rachel had overheard enough over the years to
know that her mother and father had not always been together; she
knew that her mother had been married before, and that her husband
had died. But Paulus had been there from her earliest
memories—strong, loving, and to her…fearless, all knowing,
invincible. He had been a soldier in the Roman army—but she was not
to tell that to anyone. Sometimes she thought she came close to
idolizing him, and then she would pray very hard, because God’s
first commandment was against idolatry. Once she had heard Paulus
say to someone that a father’s behavior often influenced the way
their children viewed God, so maybe that was why she loved God so
much.

She loved her mother very much, too, and in
spite of having lived what could only be called an “insecure” life,
she felt remarkably secure and protected. Her parents did not live
in fear, but they were ever watchful, and they had tried hard to
make her life as normal as possible. Alysia and Paulus had taught
her lessons because she couldn’t be in school, they allowed her to
have friends and to visit them, they encouraged her talents at
drawing and playing the lyre. Although she was much better at
drawing than playing the lyre—she only did that because her mother
wanted her to.

And recently her father had decided to teach
her how to use a bow and arrow, because he said that it was
important for people to be able to hunt and fend for themselves if
the need should ever arise. Rachel was positive she would never be
able to kill an animal, but she did enjoy shooting the trees!

They came to a small clearing edged all
around with oak trees. The nearest one had a huge trunk, and Paulus
had gouged out a hole in its center. He’d done the same with
smaller trees here and there, to give her a sense of varying
distances. They tied on their arm bands and Rachel watched
carefully as Paulus took one shot, studying his stance…the
steadiness of his drawing hand, the way he used his shoulder and
back rather than his arm to draw the string taut, the relaxing of
his fingers as they sent the arrow flying to meet its mark.

“After you practice a few times,” he told
her, “I’m going to teach you how to shoot while you’re kneeling.”
He held one of her arrows out before him, examining it from the
feather at one end to the point at the other. “You need some new
ones,” he observed. “This one’s warped. Let me look at your
bow.”

When he was satisfied that her equipment was
safe to use, he stood back and watched, retrieved her arrows and
watched some more, now and then quietly correcting something she
was doing wrong. Then he showed her how to go down on one knee,
keeping her leg straight out behind her but positioning her upper
body as if she were still standing up.

“You’re doing very well, Rachel,” he said,
and she felt happy because she knew he only gave praise when it was
deserved. “Now I want you to stand again and shoot at all the trees
we marked, both high and low.”

Rachel was getting very tired but she did as
he instructed, and then finally he said they could rest a while
before they walked home. She sank down thankfully on the grassy
clearing, and he sat cross-legged next to her. He wasn’t himself
today, she thought. He’d hardly practiced at all, and his mind
seemed to be a hundred miles away.

“We forgot the water jug,” she said, lifting
her long hair away from her neck. She pulled one of the laces out
of an armband and tied back her hair, then busied herself putting
the bands back in their pouch. “Father, there’s something I’ve been
meaning to tell you.”

She had his full attention at once. “Yes,
Rachel?”

“I didn’t tell Mother, but when we were in
Bethany, one of the neighbors was visiting Martha, and she said
‘That child doesn’t look anything like her father’. And everybody
has always said I look like you. And Martha had the strangest look
on her face. I thought she was going to cry!”

Now her father had a strange look on
his
face.

“Why do you think she said that?”

“Maybe she was thinking about Nathan, your
mother’s first husband. But she’s wrong, you know.” He grinned at
her. “You do look like your father, and that’s definitely me.”

She smiled back at him, and then he became
serious again. He said slowly, “There are some things I want to
talk to
you
about, Rachel. You’re too young to understand
some of them, and I’ll not speak of them now. But if you ever hear
things, whether it’s here, or in Bethany, or anywhere…that you
don’t understand, I want you to feel free to come to your mother
and me, and tell us. I know you must be wondering about that woman
last night, the one who wore the veil and started asking
questions.”

Rachel’s blue-green eyes met his. “Yes,
sir.”

“You’ve heard us speak of my first wife, who
died. It so happens that—she didn’t die, after all.”

Rachel gaped at him. “You mean that was
her
?”

He nodded. “Yes. You know that suicide is
very common here. She pretended to kill herself and managed to fool
everyone. She was afraid of the emperor, and she moved to another
city. But when she heard I was in Rome she came back—to cause
trouble. She hates me, and Alysia. It’s a long story, Rachel…and
it’s not entirely her fault.”

“But, how can you be married to two
people?”

“I’m not. Your mother and I believed Megara
was dead when we married. And so, I am divorced from Megara.”

“Oh.”

“Divorce is when you are no longer married to
someone. Although God says that is wrong. There is an acceptable
reason…but…” Paulus stopped, suddenly at a loss. “I think it’s time
your mother had a certain talk with you.”

“About what?”

“About…life.”

She looked at him, mystified.

“Darling, why did you choose those verses you
recited last night—out of all the ones you might have chosen?”

Rachel tried to think back. “Oh, I don’t
know. The main one I wanted to say was the one about having
courage, and waiting on the Lord. But then it was as if the Lord
told me to say the ones before that, too.”

“I see. Do you think your mother and I are
going to leave you?”

“Oh, no, Father! I didn’t mean to make it
seem like that!”

Paulus reached out and took one of her hands.
“Listen to me, Rachel. All your life you’ve known that there are
soldiers looking for your mother and me. Now I’m going to tell you
why. Your mother, when she was very young, was attacked by a man
who meant her great harm, and she defended herself with a sword and
killed him. I’m sure she didn’t mean to kill him—only to stop
him—but a sword is a very dangerous thing. At the time she was a
slave…we’ve told you about that. And the man’s father was a man of
wealth and influence. She would have been executed for that,
Rachel. I helped her escape.”

Rachel absorbed it all silently, her eyes
wide.

“I believe it’s acceptable to kill someone
who is trying to kill you, or harm you. So never think your mother
did some horrible thing. She only defended herself.”

“Yes, sir. I don’t blame Mother for
that!”

“All these years they’ve been looking for
her, and they know now that she’s been with me. So they are looking
for both of us. God has protected us so far, Rachel, but he has a
purpose for everything, and we don’t know what lies in the future.
Your mother and I would give our lives to protect you, so you must
never feel guilty if anything like that happens. We would have it
no other way.”

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said gently. “We will
take every precaution, but we will trust in the Lord, no matter
what happens. You do, don’t you?”

She nodded, unable to speak. He reached out
for her, and she got up on her knees and put her arms around his
neck. He held her tightly for a moment, and released her. “Look,
Rachel,” he said very quietly, pointing across to the other side of
the field. “How about stew for supper?”

She looked up and saw the rabbit, sitting
still at the edge of the woods and seeming to watch them out of one
large brown eye. She knew what her father was going to say.

“I can’t do it,” she murmured, hating to
disappoint him. “Not yet.”

He reached slowly for his bow and withdrew an
arrow from the sling on his back, and raised up on one knee. Rachel
watched him as he took careful aim…then she closed her eyes.

* * *

“Never mind,” Paulus said as they walked
home; he put one arm around her shoulders and smiled down at her.
In his other hand he carried his bow and the dangling rabbit by its
hind legs. “Maybe you’ll never have to.”

“I think I could shoot a man quicker than I
could an animal,” she told him, as though giving away a confidence.
“One that was trying to hurt me, I mean.”

His voice changed, became taut. “I pray
you’ll never have to do that, either.”

After a moment she said, “I didn’t mean
that.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“It’s just that—little animals seem so
innocent. It’s always bothered me…how the Jews have to sacrifice
lambs and things.”

“That was because God wanted people to
understand how serious sin is—and how only the shedding of blood
can atone for it,” her father said, “and to foretell what Jesus
would do, on the cross.”

“Paid—in full,” Rachel said, with a touch of
awe. “You heard him say that!”

She’d already been told about that day.
Paulus, commanding officer of the Roman fort in Jerusalem, had
refused to take part in the execution of Jesus of Nazareth. It had
been carried out by the governor, Pontius Pilate, and the
contingent he brought from Caesarea. But Paulus had been present
when Jesus died. Both of her parents had seen Jesus
alive
afterward.