Man of God (33 page)

The funeral procession resumed with only
three guards, who were now angry and fearful of what their
punishment would be if the red-haired woman were not found. A short
interval had passed when the soldier who had been walking directly
behind Paulus began to notice certain things: the figure before him
didn’t seem quite as tall as before, his shoulders not as broad,
his stride not as long…

He reached out and grabbed Aquila’s arm,
whirling him around, and snatched the hood from his head. The
soldier’s face turned white and he cried, “Where is Valerius?”

* * *

Rachel sat on the bed inside her windowless
room and stared at the blank wall across from her. Her nightmare
had worsened horribly, because now her mother was gone. Susanna had
assured her it had nothing to do with
her
, Rachel, but that
didn’t help very much. She was still in a state of disbelief…it
just wasn’t
real
…somehow it was all a mistake! It was a bad
dream. She was going to wake up with her mother gently shaking her
arm and saying, “It’s late, Rachel, you must get up now.” She would
open her eyes and watch her mother’s familiar figure leave the
room; she would hear sounds in the kitchen, and her mother’s voice
speaking low to her father…

It had to be that way. Because, otherwise,
she couldn’t stand it. These priestesses must have put her under a
spell—was that possible for a believer? Or…maybe she wasn’t a
believer, after all. She had recited one vow, even if it was only a
rehearsal. Maybe God was angry and that was why he had allowed her
mother to be killed. No, that wasn’t right—please, don’t let her be
dead…

At least her father was coming for her.
If
he could get away! She tried to pray about that, but she
was so tired, so confused. Susanna had told her to act as if she
were sick. That was going to be easy.

Rachel heard the sound of footsteps
approaching and quickly lay back upon the bed. One of the Vestals
opened the door but didn’t come inside. She was younger, and had a
kinder face than the other one that had been talking to her.

“The woman from the palace has sent for a
physician, Diana. He should be here soon.”

Rachel nodded.

CHAPTER XXV

Paulus was only half running now, a painful
catch in his side and his breath burning in his lungs. He passed
the Temple of Vesta; now he could see the Senate House, known as
the Curia Julia; it was a high, brick building plastered with white
stucco. In front of its small portico he saw three horses, two of
them with riders. There was no one else; the senators were
attending the games, and most pedestrians were traversing streets
closer to the Circus Maximus.

Obviously relieved to see him, Simon called,
“Paulus, thank God! Is everything all right?”

He nodded, even as he ran an assessing gaze
over the horses. He stopped.

“Trousers, Daphne?”

“Yes, and please don’t ask where I got them.
I found them, that’s all. And I brought Rachel some tunics—we’ll
have to cut them down to size. Here!” She tossed him a small bag.
“Use this as a physician’s satchel. It had my brushes in it…it’s
empty but maybe no one will look.”

Paulus had to smile up at her. “You’ve
thought of everything. Are you both familiar with Tuscus
Street?”

“I am,” Daphne answered. “I used to buy my
perfumes there.”

“If anything happens to me, follow it to
where it intersects with the Palatine—turn right and you’ll see
another road leading to the bridge. But if the way seems wrong,
take another. Do what seems best—as God leads you. Daphne, remember
how to control the horse—Tuscus is the most narrow street in
Rome.”

Daphne nodded anxiously and reached out to
clutch Simon’s hand. Before either of them could speak, Paulus had
thrown the black cloak over his tunic and was striding away from
them, toward the House of the Vestals.

* * *

The white-robed woman led him down the wide
central hall toward one of the six closed doors. This woman was
young; he’d been afraid some of the older ones might recognize him,
but the others were nowhere to be seen. The Vestal unlocked a door,
went through it, and waited for him to enter.

Rachel looked very small on the bed, and his
emotions almost got the better of him. She lay with her face to the
wall. He took a deep breath and hoped his voice would not
shake.

“Damsel, I am a physician. I’m here to
examine you.”

“Not with her in here,” came his daughter’s
voice, sounding petulant.

The Vestal remained stoic and swished from
the room. “I shall await your findings, sir,” she said, closing the
door softly.

Paulus pushed back the hood of his robe, and
went down on one knee as Rachel turned, jumped from the bed, and
ran into his arms. “Shh,” he said, “don’t let them hear you.”

“Is it true?” she whispered.

He didn’t have to speak, or even to nod. She
had only to look into his eyes.

She pressed her face against his shoulder,
and he held her, his head bowed over hers. How much he wanted to
weep with her, to grieve with her…but there was no time. Gently he
set her back. “We must hurry, darling. When we leave here, we’ll
join Simon and Daphne on horses, and it will be a hard ride until
we cross the river. Are you ready?”

She nodded vehemently, wiping her face with
her hand.

“Is there any other way out of this
room?”

“No, sir.”

He rose, walked swiftly to the door, and
opened it. The priestess stood hovering nearby.

“I need hot water, and cloths,” he said, in a
stern voice.

She nodded and fluttered down the hall. When
she had disappeared around a corner, Paulus took Rachel’s hand and
they left the room, ran lightly to the front door, and outside.
He’d been surprised not to see any guards before; obviously the
Vestals were considered inviolate. Seeing them, Simon and Daphne
urged their horses forward, with Simon holding the reins of the one
Paulus would ride.

A sound like thunder came from the east, and
Paulus knew at once what it was. They were already in view of a
dozen mounted soldiers, bearing upon them at a speed they could not
possibly surpass.

Without hesitation, Paulus grabbed Rachel and
lifted her up to Simon. There was no time for goodbyes, nor could
he have uttered them. She didn’t know what was happening at first,
and then she threw her arms around his neck. “No,” she gasped. “No,
Father, don’t leave me!”

Tears burned his eyes. He pulled her toward
him and kissed her forehead, then disengaged her arms and stepped
backward. “I’m very proud of you, Rachel.”

“Let me stay with you, please! Please!”

But Simon was already turning the horse. With
a quick look back at Paulus, Daphne followed, tears streaming down
her face. Paulus mounted the third horse, wheeled it around and
rode toward the pursuers. As they drew near, he jerked on the reins
and caused the horse to rear up in the middle of the narrow road,
blocking their passage. The others began slowing their own horses,
but quickly surrounded him. Reaching out, he wrenched the sword
away from one soldier and pushed him off his horse, causing the man
to scramble to his feet and race for the nearest building to avoid
the oncoming stampede.

Paulus knew it was futile and reacted
instinctively, but it gave the others time they sorely needed…His
sword rang against one blade after another, flashing with lightning
speed around the half-circle before him, until one powerful blow
drove it from his grasp. Still he struggled, trying to urge his
horse through those surrounding him, but they pressed forward and
forced him to a halt. He felt the point of a sword against his
back.

“Hold, Paulus Valerius!” came a commanding
voice. “Centurion, take some of these men and ride after those
other two horses.”

A number of men broke away from the others. A
soldier pressed close behind Paulus, leaned over, and roughly tied
his hands behind him with a length of rope. Another one took the
reins of his horse.

The soldiers wouldn’t know which route Simon
and Daphne had taken, and soon they’d be across the Tiber. And, he
thought…if God wanted them to escape, they would. Paulus had done
all he could do.

* * *

Flavius watched silently as Paulus was
chained to the wall, waiting until the guards had left before he
spoke.

“What of Rachel?”

Paulus lay down on the floor. His body
throbbed from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. “They
got away. I think.”

Flavius settled back on his bench, a look of
relief on his face. “Thank God!”

He didn’t ask—what happened, why are you
here? He didn’t have to.

After a long time, Paulus asked, “What
happens tomorrow, Flavius?”

His friend answered slowly, “They’ll come for
us at dawn. There’s a small, enclosed courtyard on the palace
grounds, reserved for executions the emperor wants to
remain—private. You may know of it.”

“Yes. I’ve heard of it. Tiberius used it as
well.”

“At least, that’s what I
think
he will
do. You have a distinguished family, and a reputation in Rome that
has lasted all these years. I think if the senators weren’t so
afraid of Caligula, they would put a stop to this. And though
Caligula must kill you to save face, he doesn’t want to make a
spectacle out of your death.”

“Or of yours. You have earned much respect as
a soldier, Flavius.” He paused. “Do you think he will try to make
us fight each other?”

Flavius shook his head. “No. He knows we
would refuse—and cause him more embarrassment. After all, what more
can he do to us?”

“Much more than I like to think about,”
Paulus said. “But nothing could make me raise a sword to you,
Flavius. Besides,” he added, with a touch of his old humor, “it
would be a very short match …at my expense.”

His friend gave a wan smile. “You can still
handle a sword, Paulus. But no, we will not fight each other.”

They spoke no more. Paulus said a silent
prayer of thanks to God, for Rachel’s escape, and received
nothing…only emptiness and overwhelming desolation. Then, the alien
voice came again.

“
So you think you are a man of God? You
are dying for nothing! You have failed at everything! No one will
believe anything you have said.”

“Get behind me…Satan,” he muttered, and fell
into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

* * *

When he woke it was dark, and the lamps were
burning. He thought again of Rachel.

He had noticed that her hair had been cut
short, and he hoped that was the extent of anything physical that
had been done to her. How she had suffered, and was still to
suffer…His heart ached for her; he told himself that she was strong
in her faith, but she was only a child! He cringed when he
remembered the desperate look on her face, the sound of her voice
begging him not to leave her. If only he could speak to her, one
last time…

He called out for the guard. When the door
opened and a soldier looked at him inquisitively, Paulus said, “May
I write a letter?”

Without reply, the soldier closed the door,
but in a short while it opened again, and a slave hurried inside
carrying sheets of parchment, and a pen and ink. Paulus sat
cross-legged in front of his bench, placed the sheets on top, and
had to strain to see in the dim light. He began:

My beloved daughter
…

And then he stopped. He had no idea what to
say. He didn’t know if or when she would ever receive this letter.
He would give it to Susanna, for she had said she would come
tonight, and he’d have to trust that—somehow—she would get it to
the house of Lazarus, in Bethany of Judea. Again he lifted the
pen.

I write to you with a full heart from the
prison, in which I am treated well, and expect tomorrow to meet the
Lord, if he chooses not to spare me. I tell you this, Rachel, not
to cause you sorrow, but to ask that you rejoice with me that I am
privileged to give my life for him, and I hope that in my death I
will bring glory to him.

You are very young, my darling, and you have
been given to endure a hard trial, but never doubt God’s wisdom.
Never doubt his ability to bring good out of the evil that men
do.

Stand firm in your faith, always, and
against temptation, and know that you are not alone. Because God
lives in the realm of eternity, the prayers I now lift to him for
you also live in eternity, and so they are before God even as you
read this.

Remember, Rachel, those things your mother
and I have taught you. Expect to be persecuted for your belief. But
also remember what Jesus said—“Blessed are those who are persecuted
for my sake, for they shall see God.” He also said that we must do
his work while it is still day, because the night is coming, when
no one can work. I hope you will do this, until the day of his
coming. Then, my darling, we will see you again!

I know that you love God. I know that you
love your mother and me, and that you miss us. Rachel, do you
recall the passage from God’s word that you quoted a number of
weeks ago? “Wait on the Lord, be of good courage, and he will
strengthen your heart.” Never forget these words. May God grant you
his grace, mercy, and peace. Your loving father.

He laid down the pen and sat for a moment,
staring at the parchment. For the first time he let himself think
about his impending death. He wished it didn’t have to be so, for
Rachel’s sake, and for those God had placed in his care to lead—but
God had allowed him to be captured, and he wasn’t going to question
that. He might not look forward to it, but he was ready. Ready,
most of all, to see again the Lord Jesus Christ, to see Alysia, his
son, and his son’s namesake…there would be others, and he wondered
if Rachel, and Simon and Daphne, might even be there before
him.