Man of God (22 page)

“Who—what woman?”

“Her name is Daphne—a prostitute. Or rather,
she claims she is no longer a prostitute. She has been in custody
for some time and my men have been trying to make her talk. She
refuses. She was overheard calling out for her God, this Jesus of
Nazareth. Since she is one of his followers, we think that might be
how she knows Valerius. We’ve started looking for him among the
Nazarenes.”

Daphne! Flavius sought to conceal his dismay
at Petronius’ words.

“What have you done to this woman? Where is
she?”

“We’re keeping her at her house. My men have
employed certain—methods—but so far she has refused to tell us
anything.”

“What makes you think she knows anything to
tell?”

Petronius was not going to mention Livias.
“Whoever approached her first became convinced she knew something.
I, too, am convinced of it.”

“I will go and see her myself. It may be that
you are wasting your time with this woman. And that is something
you don’t have much of, Petronius.”

The other soldier paled again. Then he said,
“She is very—strong, sir. She has great faith in her God and has
withstood our—methods. Do you know…who is this Nazarene they all
worship?”

Again Flavius was taken off guard. Should he
say he didn’t know? But that would be denying the Lord—the very one
who saved him! He said cautiously, “From what I have heard, he is
believed to be the son of God, the same God worshiped by the Jews.
It is said that he died to save mankind from their sins, and rose
again to live forever.”

Petronius gave him an odd look. Flavius
ignored it and said coldly, “Take me to this woman—right away.”

* * *

As Horatius predicted, the guards at the gate
did not even glance inside the carriage as it passed. Leaving them
at their house, the driver smiled and saluted them with his crop
and left to return the carriage to its owner. Paulus brought in
their baggage as Alysia lit the lamps and walked through the rooms,
making sure everything was as they had left it…she wasn’t sure why
she did so. There was a musty smell and she began throwing open the
shutters. Her daughter was about to take her own things to her
room.

“Rachel, we’ll have to start lessons again,”
Alysia told her. “You remember Cassia’s daughter, don’t you? Cassia
wants her to begin studying with us, but she’s very weak in certain
things. I told her you might be willing to help her rise to the
level of everyone else.”

“Well,” Rachel said doubtfully. “All right,
Mother.”

Alysia noticed her hesitation. “What’s
wrong?”

“Nothing,” Rachel answered, and went into her
bedroom.

Alysia looked at Paulus, who stood leaning
his arm against the doorjamb. She strode quickly forward and slid
an arm around him, putting her other hand on his face.

“Paulus, you’re not well. Don’t go back to
the aqueduct tomorrow.”

He put his hand over hers. “The dizziness
comes and goes. It will finally stop. You know it’s not the first
time I’ve taken a knock on the head.”

“That’s what worries me.”

“All right—I’ll visit some of our friends for
a day or two. But after that, it’s back to work.”

CHAPTER XVI

A guard came to the door when Flavius and
Petronius arrived at Daphne’s house. They passed from the small
foyer into a reception room. There were paintings on the walls…of
men and women in varying stages of nudity, and it seemed there had
been an effort to cover them, because large cloths lay on the floor
as though they’d been torn away and dropped.

“Where are her interrogators?” Flavius asked,
averting his eyes from the paintings.

“Gone for the day, sir,” the guard answered.
“They’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Where is the woman?”

“In there, sir.

Flavius walked into Daphne’s bedroom.
Sumptuously decorated, it was obvious what the room had been used
for. Here were more erotic paintings and frescoes; a cabinet
bearing objects of a sexual nature covered one wall; a red silk
canopy hung over the bed, with wide strips of silk stretching
downward and tied to each corner. Another table with a bench before
it bore various bottles and jars, brushes and combs and a hand
mirror. A faint smell of perfume wafted in the air.

Within the bed a small figure lay very still,
amid a welter of bedclothes and cushions. Flavius opened the
shutters at the windows, so that the afternoon sunlight fell across
the bed. Daphne moved slightly, turning away from the light.

“Look at me,” Flavius said sternly.

Slowly she turned onto her back, but she
didn’t look at him, staring instead at the ceiling. Flavius had to
bite his tongue. One of her eyes was blackened and her lips were
swollen. But what appalled him were the scars on her face where she
had been branded with a hot iron; looking over the rest of her
lightly clad body he saw where the brands had been pressed against
her upper arms…and who knew where else. His own facial scars were
nothing compared to hers.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then turned
deliberately to Petronius, who stood behind him. “Why wasn’t she
brought to the palace instead of being kept here?”

Petronius looked uneasy. “We felt if the
emperor knew about her, he would lose patience and dispatch her
before we could get the information we need to find Valerius. I’m
sure you agree, Centurion Flavius.”

“Is this any way to treat a Roman citizen?
You have tortured this woman.”

“Not I, sir. But there are extenuating
circumstances. The emperor commanded us to find Valerius and I am
convinced this woman knows where he is.”

“What makes you think that?”

She has never flatly denied it. She only says
she won’t tell. Our last resort will be to take her to the
emperor.”

“You’re right, Petronius—he would only take
her life. I will question her myself. You may leave, and take the
guard with you. And if I am not satisfied that she knows anything
of value, you will release her and concentrate your efforts
elsewhere. Time is growing short and you need all the men you have
available looking for Valerius, not tarrying in the bedroom of a
harlot.”

Petronius pursed his lips but said, “Yes,
sir.” He saluted and turned to leave the house.

Flavius waited a moment, then walked to the
foyer to make sure the men had gone. He locked the door and
returned to the bedroom.

“Daphne,” he said. “May Christ have mercy on
you and rest your soul.”

She stirred, and focused her eyes on his.
“Who are you?”

“My name is Flavius. I am a friend of
Paulus’—I met you at his house some months ago.”

Daphne sat up. “Yes, I remember you, and your
wife.” She stared at him. “Then, they do not know you are a
believer.”

“No. If I had known about this—I could have
stopped it. I
will
stop it. To say that I’m sorry…isn’t
enough.”

“You see what they’ve done to me. They raped
me, too. I suppose they thought it was nothing, for someone like
me. But I’ve told them nothing.”

“They will be punished. I’ll send them off
somewhere, far away. This is illegal—although Caligula wouldn’t say
so. He would have permitted this, and more, if it got results.”

“I would never betray Antonius—I mean Paulus,
and Alysia. Never!”

“Your faith is strong. Even the soldiers
recognize that.”

“No, it isn’t. Not as strong as I needed it
to be. But Jesus helps us even in our weakness, if we call on him.
I know that now, from experience.” She moved and put her legs over
the side of the bed, seeming grateful for his presence. “Tell me,
how did you come…to be a believer, Flavius?”

He glanced behind him and picked up a silk
shawl, which she draped over her bare shoulders.

“That is a long story. I was a gladiator
once, and always getting into trouble…with women, or breaking some
law. At that time Paulus, as prefect, was administrator over the
courts, and so we knew each other slightly. Then last year, Paulus
saw me in the forum and began talking to me. It took a while to
convince me to come to their meetings. But my wife and I finally
did…and we are both believers.”

“Did you know they were looking for him?”

“Not then. The old order to apprehend him and
Alysia had almost been forgotten over the years, until Caligula
recently got it into his head that they must be found.”

“I wonder why.”

“I said the order had been almost
forgotten…but not by everyone. There were people who knew him—who
always remembered, and always wondered what had happened to him. He
was seen somewhere and recognized, and it was reported to
Caligula.”

“Oh, I pray he never finds them!”

A silence fell, and Flavius looked around the
room. “Have you eaten? Can I get you anything?”

“I haven’t eaten, but I’m not hungry.”

“I’m going to get someone to come and help
you. I would send my wife, but she won’t be able to get away from
the palace. Do you know of anyone?”

Daphne thought for a moment. “There was a
woman named Priscilla. She and her husband were both kind to
me.”

“Yes, I know them. Aquila has been leading
the meetings since Paulus has been away. I’ll send Priscilla to
you. I’ll ask her to bring food and to stay with you for a while. I
know of a physician, too, who can look at your—” He stopped as she
covered her face with her hands and began to cry softly.

Flavius felt helpless. “I’ll cover these
paintings before I leave,” he said. “And close up that
cabinet.”

“I had already done so before they came,” she
said dully. “But they uncovered them.”

“They can do that, but they can’t bring back
the past, Daphne. All of this is behind you now. You and Priscilla
can put everything in a crate, and I’ll burn it.”

Daphne removed her hands and looked up at
him, her scars puckered and red. “Thank you, Flavius.”

Not knowing what else to say, he turned away
to begin his task.

* * *

When he left Daphne’s house, Flavius realized
he wasn’t far from where Simon lived. He glanced around to make
sure he wasn’t being followed, and made his way there within a
quarter hour. Why anyone should follow him he didn’t know, but he’d
become suspicious of everyone lately. It was the time of day when
Romans usually retired to their houses for a few hours, and Simon
greeted him at the door.

“Flavius, come in!”

Flavius stepped just inside the entrance. “I
can’t stay, Simon, but I have something to tell you. Please let
this be known among all of us, and as much as I hate for Paulus to
know it—he’d never forgive us if we didn’t tell him.”

“What is it?” Simon asked, frowning.

“Daphne was placed under arrest. They thought
she could lead them to Paulus. She’s been tortured, and worse.”

“No, Flavius!”

“Would you ask Priscilla to go to her at
once, and help her? And ask everyone to be much in prayer for
her.”

“Of course I will.” Simon seemed deeply
affected. “The poor girl. And you are right—Paulus would want to
know. I’ll tell him. Flavius, how did they—what made them question
Daphne?”

The other man shook his head. “I don’t know.
But now they’re looking for Paulus and Alysia among the known
community of believers. I’m afraid, Simon—it’s only a matter of
time.”

* * *

It was early the next day before Simon went
to see his friends, and he did so with a deep reluctance. They were
going to feel responsible for what had happened to Daphne. He had
already told Aquila and Priscilla, and they agreed to spread the
word. Priscilla had gone at once to stay with Daphne for a few
days.

Paulus was on his way out, and stopped when
he saw Simon walking down the lane toward him. He called into the
house, “Alysia, there’s a beggar wandering around out here—have you
got a spare loaf of bread?”

She came to the door and smiled when she saw
Simon. “He doesn’t look undernourished. Toss him a coin and be done
with it!”

Simon smiled as he drew near and said, “I’ll
take the bread and the coin, but—” his smile faded—“first I have
sad news to tell.”

Paulus and Alysia grew solemn and waited for
him to speak.

“It’s Daphne. She was questioned by soldiers
about you both. Flavius put a stop to it, but he says she
was—tortured.”

“Oh, no!” Alysia cried. Paulus didn’t move or
speak, and she slid her hand into his. “Where is she, Simon?”

“At her house. I think she’s all
right—Flavius didn’t give me many details, and I was
too—disturbed—to ask. I feel terrible, as I know you do. Priscilla
is with her.”

“Tortured,” Paulus said, at last. “How?”

Simon raised his hands. “I don’t know. But I
feel sure you’ll be going to see her, and I’d like to go, too.”

Paulus glanced at Alysia. “We’ll go at once.
Would you get Rachel—she’ll want to see Daphne.”

“Are you certain—”

“Yes,” he said.

“What if they’re watching her house?”

“Flavius said it was safe,” Simon answered.
“They won’t be expecting you to go there.”

Alysia went into the house, grabbed the palla
that went over her gown, and told Rachel what had happened. She and
Rachel joined Paulus and Simon, and began walking.

* * *

Paulus, for whatever reason, had stopped
wearing the hooded cloak that partially concealed his face. Alysia
didn’t know if it was the oppressive heat, or if he had decided it
was useless. No doubt he was relying on God to protect him, for
however long God willed it—but it seemed to her they should be
taking precautions. Well, if he wasn’t going to, she wasn’t
either…and she didn’t pull the edges of her palla over her face as
she usually did. It had become her habit, though, to raise it to
cover her hair when in public, for the morals of the Jews had been
deeply ingrained during the time she lived in Bethany. Women there
always modestly covered their hair. Rachel walked beside her in her
ankle-length, belted tunic.