The Hidden Flame (3 page)

Abigail was still reeling from the dramatic events of the last moments when a panting Jacob tugged at her shawl. He could scarcely voice his question. "Are they hidden?"

Abigail clutched his shoulders with both hands. "Did Nedra-?"

"We made it," he puffed. "I don't think Enos knew she'd ever left."

"Thank God," breathed Abigail.

"Where's Alban?"

"Gone. They-"

"Gone? What do you mean? Where?"

"They've left. We can only pray that their escape will be successful."

"But ... but how could he leave without me? I was to go. He promised he'd never leave me."

Abigail looked at her brother's stricken face and realized what he was trying to say. "He couldn't wait, Jacob. Alban and Leah were in danger. You know that."

Even as she spoke, they heard the sound of horses' hoovesmany of them-clattering upon the paving stones coming up to the courtyard. The hunters had arrived.

"Quick!" Abigail pushed at Jacob. "We must hide before they enter." When he resisted she pulled him forward. "Run, Jacob!"

He half turned to look at her. "Run where?"

"Behind the wash tubs. Out back. There's an alley that leads to the back streets."

They hurried across the courtyard just as prancing mounts snorted and stomped their way into the enclosure. Leah heard the crude shouts of soldiers, the clanging of steel blades. She pressed Jacob into the shadows behind her, afraid that any movement would get unwanted attention.

"The man Alban. Where is he?" came an angry shout from the obvious leader of the soldiers.

"He is not here." It was Peter's voice that met the demand.

"We were informed he is in this compound. You deny this?" The voice was harsh.

"I do not deny that he was here. It is his wedding day. We celebrated the claiming of his bride, and-"

"I am not interested in your celebrations. Where has he gone?"

"He did not say."

The soldier released a volley of curses. "We'll see if you know how to tell the truth. Men, dismount. Search every corner of this foul place from top to bottom. If this uncouth man here is lying, he'll soon mount a cross. Along with the rest of his followers."

Abigail pulled in a deep breath and pressed more firmly against Jacob. Amid the noise and confusion in the courtyard, they would not likely be noticed. "This way," she hissed over her shoulder. As they ducked into a passageway toward the back of the compound, she prayed. Please, Father God, help us ... help us all. Lord Jesus, direct our steps. Holy Spirit, be with us... .

Jacob, who knew the warren of back streets and alleyways of Jerusalem like his own hand, soon took the lead in their headlong rush to safety.

Later that evening, in the back of a shed attached to the shop of a fishmonger who belonged to the followers' community, Jacob again plied Abigail with questions. Where were Alban and Leah headed? What were their plans? How soon would they send for him?

Over and over her answers were the same. "I do not know."

His patience quickly came to an end. "Then what are we to do?"

"Wait," responded Abigail.

"Wait!" Jacob attempted to scoff but was near tears. "It was not to be this way. I need Alban now. I did not even get to say farewell. To receive instructions of what I am to do. How can you say wait? For what? For whom? What if they don't make it? How will we know?" His words tumbled over each other, a litany of his frustration and grief.

"If they do not make it, Herod will be boasting of it from here to Rome," Abigail finally said, trying to rein in her impatience. "Even if they do make it, he might claim they did not just to save face. There is nothing that we can do, Jacob, but wait. They will send word when they can. They will send for us when the time is right."

But Jacob failed to be convinced. Abigail could feel him withdraw from her in the blackness of the night. It hurt deeply. Had she found Jacob, merely hours ago, only to lose him in his sorrow over Alban? She prayed not. But for the moment her heart felt even colder than the night's chilly arms encircling them.

C H A P T E R

Two

Caesarea Twenty-five months later . . .

THE SIGHT THAT GREETED LINUX as he stepped once more upon Judean soil was of children playing. Two youngsters raced along the top of the stone harbor wall. Linux was instantly transported back to his brother's villa. The two girls Linux had left behind in Umbria were both blond, and these scampering children were dark haired. Yet both pairs shared an impish laughter and an ability to find joy in chasing a butterfly or a dog through dust and sunlight. Linux had dreamed of his twin nieces almost every night since leaving Umbria, his country of birth, for Rome, and from there to Judea. Another committed bachelor might have considered it a recurring nightmare. But after what Linux had discovered while in Rome, he felt the dreams contained his one tiny shred of hope.

"Linux! You are indeed a sight for sore eyes!" The harbor master was a former ship's captain from Tyre. Horus liked to claim he had skippered a Phoenician pirate vessel, but Linux knew he had served Rome long and well, both on sea and land. Some years back, a ship's timber had pinned Horus to the deck during a storm. As he walked toward Linux with hand outstretched, the harbor master's gait rocked like a ship in heavy seas. "What news of Rome?"

"The women are as lovely as ever." Linux dredged up the sardonic grin the harbor master would have expected. "And much lonelier, now that I have departed."

"And the husbands breathe much easier, I warrant." Horus slapped Linux on the back and steered him toward the stone hut from which he supervised the comings and goings of all vessels in the harbor. "You and I will share a glass."

"My belongings ..."

Horus pointed to his assistant. "You. See to them. Come, Linux. I must hear of all the wailing ladies."

But once inside the hut's shadows, the harbor master's humor vanished like the mist on the Mediterranean at dawn. "Wine?"

"Tea. I have much to do before sundown."

"I can imagine." Horus stuck his head out the cabin's door and bellowed, "Where is that scurvy dog!"

"Here, master!"

"Tea! Good food!"

"Just tea," Linux corrected.

The harbor master looked at him askance. "You have been at sea for weeks, my man!"

"Almost two months," Linux agreed. "Two weeks since our last landfall."

"We received fresh bread from the baker not two hours ago-"

"Just tea. With my thanks." Linux ignored his growling belly.

Horus gave his servant the order and slouched into his chair. Linux noted the table beneath the window piled high with charts and scrolls. The man's badge of office, the emperor's seal, held down an unfurled manifest, no doubt awaiting his calculation of the duties to be paid.

Horus asked again, more subdued this time, "What news of Rome?"

"Are you sure you want to hear, old friend?"

"Everyone in Caesarea is feasting on rumors, all of them dreadful. The truth can hardly be worse."

"I would not wager on that."

"So it is true. Sejanus is in trouble."

Linux sighed and stared out the window. Since Emperor Tiberius had retired to his palace on the island of Capri, Rome had been ruled by his deputy, Sejanus, whose only official title was head of the Praetorian Guard. Tiberius remained officially the ruler of the empire. But the emperor was increasingly interested only in his own pleasures. What was most troubling to Linux was that many of Rome's powerful and wealthy citizens were following Tiberius's example, letting whatever gratification caught their fancy sweep them away into increasing debauchery.

"Sejanus battles constantly with the Senate," Linux finally said. "And he is losing."

The harbor master scowled. "This does not bode well for the likes of you and me."

The servant appeared in the doorway. "Tea, master."

Linux accepted his mug with a nod of thanks and said, "Let us walk."

"The sun is blistering," Horus protested.

"To remain hidden away is a danger for us both," he murmured.

Horus followed him out into the afternoon light. "You are so fearful of spies?"

"I do not yet know for certain what we face," Linux said, his voice still low. "I can only tell you what I found upon my arrival in Rome."

"Then tell me."

Horus was an old friend and one of Linux's most trusted allies in Caesarea. Linux also knew that whatever he told Horus would make its cautionary way through the garrison's ranks. News traveled fast in a provincial capital. And the information thus carried provided the only hope of survival.

Fourteen months earlier, Linux had returned home to northern Italy. His brother's first wife had died, and Castor was remarrying. Linux had received an official summons, his older brother using the opportunity to test Linux's loyalty. Linux's visit home had not gone well, he freely admitted to the harbor master. The only part of that experience Linux failed to share was how he spent much of the time playing with his nieces, his brother's daughters from the first marriage. The little ones missed their mother terribly, and now with their father giving his attentions to his new young bride, the girls felt totally adrift.

While in Umbria, Linux heard of events further south in the capital. The old emperor, Tiberius, seemed incapable of focusing on anything other than his pleasure gardens on Capri. His deputy Sejanus repeatedly came into conflict with the Roman Senate. In defiance of Sejanus and Tiberius, the Senate ordered Pontius Pilate's return from Judea in disgrace. In his stead, the Senate had appointed a trusted ally as replacement consul to Judea, a man named Marcellus.

Fortunately Linux had not been caught up in the unfolding political turmoil. Nor had he been included when the orders arrived, commanding Pilate to present himself before the Senate. Since Pilate could be banished, or even executed, along with his entire cadre of senior officers, Linux's exclusion from the whole sorry scenario was a very good thing indeed.

But what Linux had found awaiting him in Rome so disturbed him that even now, nearly five hundred leagues away, his gut still clenched in the telling.

Horus stared silently out over the crowded Caesarea port, though Linux doubted his old friend actually saw very much at all. Finally the man muttered, "How is a simple officer of the sea to survive all this?"

Linux repeated what an ally in Rome had told him. "Be extremely careful in everything you say, everything you do-maybe even everything you think."

"When does the new prelate arrive?" Horus leaned on the stone wall circling the harbor.

"He was to leave the week following my departure. I was ordered ahead to ..." Linux waved that aside. It would not be appropriate to further discuss imperial business with the harbor master. He said instead, "We were struck by two storms. There is no telling when his vessel will dock. Or at which port."

The two youngsters chose that moment to come racing up. The stone wall placed the boys' smiling faces at eye level with the two men. "Uncle, come play with us."

"Can't you see I'm busy here?" But Horus's growl contained a genuine fondness. When the two ran away, laughing, Horus muttered, "Young scamps," though his pride was apparent.