Man of God (13 page)

The old man lay still for a long time. Then a
low, rasping laugh came from his throat. “Perhaps I have done those
things, but I have done many good deeds. This God you speak of is
too severe, Antonius. What great harm have I ever done to
anyone?”

Paulus leaned forward, his tone quiet and
earnest. “The sins we commit show the condition of our hearts,
Avitus. Would you call your heart pure? Would you call yourself
perfect?”

“Of course not!”

“Then how do you expect to go into the
presence of a perfect and holy God, who by his very nature demands
justice?”

“Perhaps there is no such God!”

“You know there is. The knowledge of him was
in you from the day you were born, Avitus, and you have suppressed
it. Just as your pride won’t allow you to admit you are a sinner,
and just as your intellect does not want to accept so simple a fact
that one man could die and rise again, and justify you in the eyes
of God.”

“It is enough!” the old man said heavily.
“This man you told me of, this Jesus of Nazareth, is just a dead
Jew who was rumored to come alive again. What can he have to do
with me? I am a Roman, and I will die as befitting a Roman.”

His son said miserably, “My father, I beg
you, do not let your pride send you to hell!”

Again the man fell silent, and Paulus could
feel the great struggle in the room, unseen by human eyes, a
struggle in the realm of spirit between good and evil. He bowed his
head and prayed, but he knew it was too late.

“Leave me,” Avitus said. But neither of them
moved, and Paulus wondered to whom he was actually speaking, for
his eyes had a strange and faraway look…suddenly, though, they were
flat, and fixed, and his spirit was gone.

Camillus leaned his elbows on the bed, put
his hands over his face, and wept. Paulus sat for a long time,
filled with despair and a crushing sense of failure. Finally he
rose and walked across the room to lay his hand for a moment on
Camillus’ shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“He chose it,” Camillus answered. “He had his
own way. He always did.”

When Paulus left the room everyone waiting in
the hallway looked at him expectantly. He shook his head, and Lucia
began crying softly. He embraced her, and with a heavy heart, left
the house.

* * *

Alysia drew the bucket from the well, poured
the water into a jug, and walked to the front of the house where
she had planted a bed of flowers. She poured the water over them
and wondered what would happen to them while she and Paulus and
Rachel were away—there had been very little rain lately.

It still didn’t seem possible that they were
actually going to Horatius’ villa for a short while; she’d thought,
after all that had happened since her return from Bethany, that
they’d never be able to leave Rome again. But Horatius had
approached Paulus the night of Megara’s visit and proposed that
they do just that…they needed to get away as a family, Horatius
said, and he was convinced that God had put the idea into his
head.

Major work had ceased on the aqueduct for a
while; it seemed that extreme heat prevented proper absorption of
the mortar used in its construction. A few crews remained to do odd
jobs, and Paulus had made an agreement with the contractor to
oversee some things as soon as he returned. Aquila and Priscilla
offered to hold meetings at their own house, so that problem was
solved. Alysia’s students would have a short respite from their
lessons.

As for the risk in passing through the gate
when they left Rome, Horatius insisted they use his own carriage,
and said if they passed through the Porta Capena the guards there
would recognize it, and probably not even glance inside due to the
heaviness of traffic on the Appian Way. And, he said, they would
just have to trust God. She and Paulus had prayed long hours over
it, and both felt that, for whatever reason, this was indeed what
God wanted them to do.

Alysia couldn’t help smiling with
anticipation. She poured out the last of the water and was about to
return to the well when she caught movement out of the corner of
her eye. She turned quickly and saw a lithe figure in a bright red
gown sauntering down the lane toward her.

“Daphne!” she said, as the young woman drew
closer. “How good it is to see you. We’ve been missing you!”

“Hello, Alysia.” Daphne was sweating; she sat
down abruptly on a stair leading to the small, brick portico. Even
in her disheveled state she looked beautiful and appealing; Alysia
glanced self-consciously at the mud staining the old gown she wore
to work outside.

“Oh, it is sweltering—how can you stand it
out here in the sun, Alysia?”

“Come inside and let me get you something to
drink.”

“In a moment, if you please. You see I’ve
brought my bag. Your husband asked me to come and stay for a
while.”

Alysia managed to hide her surprise, and
noticed the way Daphne glanced at her from underneath her long
black lashes. She seemed to be waiting for Alysia’s response.

“Of course, Daphne. We’ll be happy to have
you here. May I ask, is anything wrong?”

“Well, Antonius got it out of me. I’ve left
the family he convinced to hire me, and I was about to go back to
my old ways.

“You mean—but why, Daphne?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I told him you
wouldn’t understand.”

Alysia’s thoughts raced. Paulus obviously
believed Daphne would benefit from talking to her, if she could be
persuaded to talk, and he was trying to forestall Daphne’s decision
to reenter prostitution by having her accompany them to the
country. That must have been his intention if he had invited her to
“stay for a while.”

She placed the heavy jug on the ground and
sat down on the step just below Daphne, turning slightly so she
could look up at her. The girl’s gaze was guarded and her body
tense.

“Daphne,” she began soberly, “I am probably
about ten years older than you are, and I’ve been through a few
things in my life. I won’t pretend to know how you feel, but that
doesn’t mean I wouldn’t understand. I don’t think you would have
come if you had no intention of talking to me. Please try to tell
me why you would want to go back to your old life. You admitted it
was wrong the first time you came here.”

Daphne plucked at the edge of her stola. “You
are a beautiful woman, Alysia. You know how it is with men. Perhaps
I shouldn’t have told what I was, the night of the meeting—Antonius
tried to stop me. But I thought it must be so obvious…I thought
everyone would know. And now everyone looks at me a certain way, or
they avoid me altogether. How am I to forget what I’ve been?”

Alysia felt a wave of deep compassion. “Yes,
Daphne, I know how it is with men. But the believers here are not
perfect—we are all only human. I truly don’t think they realize how
they are looking at you…or not, as the case may be. And the ones
who avoid you are probably only trying to avoid being tempted by
your beauty,
not
because of what you were.” Her lips curved
up a little and she added, “Or they are trying to avoid an elbow in
the ribs—from their wives.”

Daphne thought about that, and laughed.
“Women have always been jealous of me!”

“Well, it may not be jealousy…exactly. But I
know what you mean. Perhaps the solution is for you to go to a
place where no one knows of your past, so you won’t always be
reminded of it.”

“That’s one reason I agreed to go with you to
the country. Just to see how it would be.”

“At least it will be a time for
reflection…before you do anything you will regret.”

Daphne answered thoughtfully. “Yes, Alysia. I
hope so.”

* * *

Paulus’ mood was dark as he walked swiftly
through the streets toward his house. Recklessly he let the hood
fall back from his head…it was too hot for it, and what did it
matter if some overly zealous soldier recognized him? He’d almost
welcome a fight in his present frame of mind. Someone grabbed his
arm and he turned, his fist clenched, but he relaxed when he saw
Simon looking back at him.

“What’s your hurry?” Simon asked, giving him
a searching look. “Slow down, won’t you…I’ve got an ache in my side
from trying to catch up with you.”

“Age, no doubt,” Paulus said shortly, but he
slowed his pace.

“I’m a few years younger than you, as I
recall. What’s the matter, Paulus? For a moment I thought you were
going to hit me.”

“Sorry.” The two men kept walking…the streets
were less congested, for many Romans were napping at this hour of
the day. Paulus said nothing further, and his friend remained
silent until Paulus glanced at him at little ruefully.

“All right, I’ll just say it. Maybe Alysia
was right, Simon. You don’t know what she said but…maybe we’re not
supposed to be here. She’s worn out with hiding, and so am I. How
much better it would be if we could just go and live peaceably in
the country—on a farm—raising animals, perhaps, and growing our own
food. Worshiping God in our own way. I’m doing no good here; my
witness and credibility are compromised. I’m thinking of leaving
Rome.”

After a moment Simon said, “This is not like
you, Paulus. Avitus’ death has disturbed you greatly. What else has
happened to discourage you?”

Paulus shook his head. “It’s not
discouragement, Simon. It’s the plain truth. I think our work here
is done.”

“Did God tell you this?”

He answered, after a long pause, “Not
yet.”

They were forced to come almost to a halt as
a group of people walking together blocked them from passing. Simon
said thoughtfully, “You can’t be blamed for being tired, you and
Alysia. It’s bound to be a strain, having to watch over your
shoulder all the time, always wondering who is friend and who is
foe. Not to mention the responsibilities both of you bear. I think
this trip to the country is exactly what you need.”

Paulus managed to find a wedge between the
people in front of them and passed through, with Simon following.
They fell into step again.

“As for your credibility—you’re speaking of
what Megara did, aren’t you? You and I are both bound by former
spouses through no fault of our own—let those who hate us make the
most of it!”

“That’s easy to say, Simon. But it does make
a difference.”

Simon didn’t answer but went on, “And Avitus
dying in his sins…not everyone will accept the truth, Paulus, and
you can no more take the blame for that than you can take the
credit when they do accept it. It is God who saves, not you.”

Paulus stopped abruptly and looked at
him.

Simon said earnestly, “Once in the darkest
days of my life you lifted me up and encouraged me…and led me to
the Lord, the
greatest
day of my life. And so, now I am
about to tell you, not to soothe your wounded pride but to give you
the same encouragement you once gave me…You have spread the word of
God from Jerusalem to this place, and in Rome you have planted
seeds that will grow and be harvested in God’s own time. You have
not claimed leadership, but out of necessity you have become a
leader. You call yourself neither preacher nor deacon nor bishop,
yet you have begun a chain of events that cannot be stopped. Even
when you are dead, unless God wills it.”

Paulus kept looking at him as if he couldn’t
believe his ears.

Simon urged, “Well, come on, before those
laggards catch up with us.”

They started walking again. After a while
Paulus said, his voice rough, “You are a true friend, Simon.”

“Why—because I tell the truth? Someday you
may not like what I have to say.”

“It
is
God who saves. I’d almost
forgotten that.”

“You have always been humble in your faith,
Paulus. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. But our own efforts are
not enough. How could a mere man give another eternal life—unless
he is also the son of God! We can show the way, and the rest is up
to him.”

“Agreed. Simon, I met Daphne today. She’s in
trouble.”

“Daphne—what kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know exactly, but please ask the
others to pray for her. She’s going to the country with us.”

Simon glanced at him but said nothing.

“Why don’t you come, and bring your family?
There’s room for at least fifty, from the sound of it!”

Simon hesitated, then shook his head and
grinned. “Thank you, Paulus. But some of us have to work for our
livelihood.”

CHAPTER X

Alysia exchanged a look with Paulus as the
horse-drawn carriage rolled smoothly through the gate. Distracted
and irritated by the many beggars who congregated within its shady
interior, the guards waved on the opulent, elaborately carved
vehicle without so much as glancing inside. Even at this early
hour, traffic flowed steadily down the Appian Way. Burial monuments
lined the road—huge ones and small ones, extravagant and plain,
seeming to stretch on for miles.

Across from Paulus and Alysia, in their own
padded seats, Rachel and Daphne visibly relaxed as the city
disappeared behind them. Paulus had warned Daphne that “people”
might be looking for them, and it might not bode well with her to
be caught in their company. Daphne had laughed and said, “No one
will bother with me, and they’ll certainly wonder about the company
you
keep!”

The sun appeared on the horizon, dispelling
the blue shadows and casting its aureate glow over the countryside.
Alysia settled comfortably next to Paulus, her arm linked through
his, and gazed through the large opening on the side. A horseman
galloped past them, probably someone on government business; there
were traders and merchants with their overloaded wagons, people on
foot, in sedan chairs and litters borne by slaves, people
everywhere.