The Last Sacrifice (34 page)

Hora Secunda

Direct sunshine flooded the mouth of the cave but made it difficult for Akakios to see into the darkness beyond.

Akakios was a young man, a sponge diver from a line of men who had earned a living by plunging into the Aegean Sea for as long as their family history could be remembered. He was lithe and well muscled, dark hair cut short to make swimming easier. On this morning, he wore a simple tunic and old sandals.

It was partly because of his youth and physique that Akakios moved forward to the dark shadows so confidently and partly because Strabo had told him where to find the old man and the woman.

He was eager to talk to them. Now, at last, his own curiosity would be satisfied. Who were these two sent all the way from Rome? Where would they be going from Patmos? And why had all of this been cloaked in mystery?

Partway into the cave, as the ceiling dropped and forced Akakios to stoop, he paused. Shouldn’t the old man and the woman be awake by now?

“My name is Akakios,” he called, expecting a reply.

“What do you want?”

The voice and the question startled Akakios, because they came from behind him.

Akakios whirled. The rising sun in the east was blinding at the mouth of the cave, forcing him to squint. All he saw was a silhouette.

“Answer me,” the man’s voice said. “What do you want?”

“Strabo sent me here,” Akakios said.

“I see.” The voice was less antagonistic than before.

“Are you Ben-Aryeh?” Akakios slowly moved forward, shielding his eyes from the sun with a raised hand.

“I am.”

Akakios grinned, reaching Ben-Aryeh. He towered over the old man. “Strabo warned me not to expect someone cheerful.”

“Humph.”

“Where is Sophia?” Akakios asked.

“She’ll come to the cave when I tell her it is safe.”

“You didn’t sleep here through the night?”

No answer.

Akakios grinned again. “I understand. You didn’t trust Strabo.”

“Humph.”

“Well,” Akakios said, “I’m not a soldier, am I.”

“But you are irritatingly cheerful.”

Another grin. “Strabo thinks the same thing.”

“Humph.”

Sleeping on the hillside had doubtless done nothing to improve this man’s mood despite the blankets that Strabo had provided, Akakios thought.

“Did Strabo send you here to irritate me instead of him?” Ben-Aryeh asked.

“No. Chara sent me.”

“The woman of mystery,” Ben-Aryeh said. “Or of extreme modesty.”

“You mean her veil?”

“Cheerful
and
of quick intelligence. Of course I meant her veil.”

“She—” Akakios thought better of what he’d been about to say. “She’s the one you should have sought. Not Strabo.”

Ben-Aryeh cocked his head in puzzlement.

“‘Go to the island of exile where the last disciple received the vision.
Find the household of the man who stands no taller than his goats,’”
Akakios said. “Find the
household
. Not the man.”

“You’re saying . . .”

“It was Chara who’s been expecting an old man and a woman. She’s been waiting to direct them as promised. The letter she received with those instructions warned her of the strictest confidence. She didn’t even tell Strabo. And because of what Lucullus did to her, Strabo didn’t tell her that Lucullus had made inquiries earlier along with the bribe.”

“Chara knows about the message waiting for us?” Suddenly, Ben-Aryeh’s expression brightened just the slightest bit.

“She and I were both led to the Christos by John, His last disciple. Whoever sent her the letter from Rome knows this.”

“Chara knows about the message.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Akakios answered. “I’m curious, though. Who in Rome sent you to Patmos?”

“Undoubtedly the same person who sent the letter to Chara.”

“Whoever it was,” Akakios mused, “is the common point of the triangle with me at the third corner.” Akakios continued, unaware of how intently Ben-Aryeh was staring at him. “I’m curious too. Why go to all this trouble? Why give you a letter to go to Chara, who would send you to me? Why not simply give you what I was sent? It would have saved you hundreds and hundreds of miles of trouble.”

“You? You have whatever it is that is waiting for us on Patmos?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Akakios answered. “Although it’s just another letter. And one that makes little sense.”

Akakios offered a scroll to Ben-Aryeh.

“Before you say a word,” Pavo told Vitas, “I’m going to tell you about the night in Cyprus that I got far too drunk and fell asleep in an alley.”

Five minutes earlier, Vitas had stepped onto the ship’s gangway. A crewman guarding the entrance to the ship made Vitas wait while another went for Pavo. Then Vitas was escorted to the far side of the ship, where Pavo was inspecting a patch on one of the sails.

“You remind me of that night,” Pavo said, “because I was so drunk that I didn’t even notice I’d lain where a dog had squatted earlier. No matter what I did to remove it, the stench clung to me for days. You, too, are as difficult to be rid of and just as unpleasant.”

“Give me money and the help of a few men,” Vitas said, “and consider me gone.”

“Why in the name of Neptune do you expect me to give you money and help?” Pavo exploded. “You’ve already caused me more trouble than a crew of drunks.”

“You turned your ship around for me.”

Pavo grunted. “It’s not a fond memory.”

“You said it plainly: my survival is your survival.”

“You’re no longer my responsibility.”

“And how will you prove it to my rich and important and powerful friends that you fear so much you turned a ship around to save me?”

“What do you mean, prove it? I delivered you as required.”

“If something happens to me,” Vitas said, “how will my friends in Rome know this?”

Pavo knelt and pulled at a piece of rope attached to a furled sail. He stood. “I understand now,” Pavo said, his face hard, his eyes cold. “And the stench grows. This is blackmail.”

“Merely prudence on your part.” Vitas held up his right hand. “My friends in Rome recognize my signet. Get me a scroll. I’ll write whatever you want me to as proof that I left your ship in good health. I’ll seal it in wax with my signet.”

“Call it what you want. It’s still blackmail.”

Vitas shook his head. “Payment for services rendered. I’ll also tell you who on your ship has betrayed you.”

“Now what nonsense are you spouting?”

“The cape you gave me,” Vitas said. “It tells the tale.”

“Come closer,” Pavo said. “Let me smell your breath for wine.”

“You’ve been betrayed,” Vitas said. “I’d expect you would want to know your betrayer before going back out to sea with the man.”

“You can prove this to me?”

“I can tell you what I know and what I’ve concluded. Then you decide if it’s proof enough.”

Pavo sighed. “All right, I’m listening.”

“No,” Vitas said. “First the money.”

“How much?”

“Enough to buy a slave’s freedom.”

“Fair enough.”

“No,” Vitas said, smiling.

“I’ve just agreed to your terms.” Pavo was ominously close to losing his temper again.

“Too quickly. Which tells me that you are happy to let me hold your gold while I speak, then confiscate it before I leave the ship.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Send someone to buy the slave and come back with the papers of freedom so that I know he can return to his family.”

Pavo’s brow furrowed. “You’ll wait on the ship then?”

“Of course,” Vitas said. “At this point, it’s probably the safest place in Alexandria for me.”

Ben-Aryeh held the scroll at arm’s length, grateful that the bright sun made it easier to see the characters, irritated that with each added year of age, he had more difficulty focusing.

“Can you read it?” Akakios asked.

“If somehow you have enough intelligence to survive to my age,” Ben-Aryeh snapped, “you’ll understand the shame in mocking an old man’s eyes.”

“I meant, does the language make sense to you. I only read Latin.”

“It’s Hebrew,” Ben-Aryeh said, unwilling to apologize. “Now keep quiet and let me concentrate.”

“‘You know the
beast you must escape.’”
Ben-Aryeh spoke aloud as he began to read from the beginning, more to himself than to Akakios.
“‘The one with understanding will solve the number of this beast, for it is the number of a man. His number is 666.’”

“John!” Akakios exclaimed, startling Ben-Aryeh, who, in his concentration on the scroll and its mysterious message, had almost forgotten the young man beside him.

“John? The Beast we must escape?”

Akakios laughed. “No. That’s from the vision John had here on Patmos. ‘The one with understanding will solve the number of this beast, for it is the number of a man.’ John spoke those very words as he dictated his Revelation.”

“I’m holding a copy of his letter of Revelation?”

“It was written in Greek. You said this is Hebrew.”

“Yet you recognize the words.”

“Read the rest of it to me,” Akakios said. “I’ll know.”

Ben-Aryeh decided there would be no harm in divulging the contents of the scroll to Akakios, as the message was such a mystery. So he read the scroll aloud.

Occasionally Akakios would nod in recognition, but mainly the reading drew frowns of puzzlement. “What you have,” Akakios said when Ben-Aryeh finished, “is not the letter of Revelation translated into Hebrew. But it uses language from the Revelation.”

“Would you guess I need that letter for this to make sense?”

“Any copies that were on the island have been sent to the mainland for circulation among the believers. It has given great comfort to the followers of the Christos.”

The followers
of the Christos.

Ben-Aryeh had been traveling for weeks with Sophia, who was a follower of the Christos. Although he was a Jew who found the claims of the Christos and his followers to be blasphemous, although he’d been among those who stoned James, the brother of Jesus, Ben-Aryeh had decided for the sake of peace not to argue with Sophia. Nor, despite his instinctive urge to cry out against the blasphemy of it, would he argue it now with this young Greek.

What he said instead was this: “If you only knew how much it will grieve me to study that letter.”

Before Akakios could ask why, the little boy Zeno came running toward them, with Sophia right behind.

“The soldiers,” Zeno cried. “They’ve taken my father!”

Hora Tertiana

“I’m surprised to see you,” Chara said as Sophia stepped down the hillside toward her.

Veiled as she had been the day before, Chara was on her knees in the dusty soil, pruning the base of a vine. She straightened after Sophia called to her.

“Zeno told me where to find you,” Sophia said. She felt short of breath. Not from exertion. But from a sense of dread, the first emotion she’d felt in weeks.

“And the rascal has already run off,” Chara said. She set aside her short hoe and reached upward for Sophia. “He was supposed to spend the morning here with me, but he disappeared as soon as I turned my back. He likes to roam the hills like a little fox.”

Sophia took Chara’s hand and helped her stand. “Zeno has gone back to Akakios,” Sophia said.

“Ah.” Chara’s face was hidden beneath the veil, but Sophia heard the good cheer in her voice. “I’m glad Akakios found you. He’s the one with the letter you need.”

“I don’t know about the letter,” Sophia said. “I wasn’t in the cave when he spoke to Ben-Aryeh. But when Zeno showed up, they decided I was the one who needed to speak to you while they got things ready.”

Chara tilted her head. “Something is wrong.”

“Akakios is getting a boat ready to help you and Zeno leave the island.”

“Lucullus has taken Strabo,” Chara said.

Sophia was surprised at the certainty and calmness in Chara’s voice. She followed as Chara moved slowly across the hillside.

“Zeno saw it,” Sophia said. “He ran to the cave to tell us.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Chara told Sophia. “For a long time now, Lucullus has been looking for an excuse to harm Strabo.”

Sophia could hardly believe this. Chara’s first thought was for Sophia’s feelings.

“I’m supposed to help you down to the water,” Sophia said. “Akakios says there’s nothing he can do against the soldiers. But he can protect you and Zeno.”

“No,” Chara said. “Take me to Strabo.”

“The soldiers . . .”

“Look at me,” Chara said, half turning toward Sophia. Chara lifted her veil.

Sophia couldn’t help but bring her hand to her mouth in shock.

The left side of Chara’s face was unblemished, perfect, and extraordinarily beautiful. The other side looked like melted wax, hideous and disfigured.

Chara dropped the veil again. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I wake every morning and thank the Lord God that He allowed me to live. And I thank Him more that Strabo found me and loved me.”

Sophia walked beside Chara, holding her elbow, ashamed at her relief that the veil was back in place again.

“Strabo met me at the barracks when he was delivering cheese,” Chara said. “He knew who I was and what I was. But he was always kind to me. After my rebirth in the Christos, he provided a home for Zeno and me, because I’d stopped spending time with the soldiers for money.”

They were walking slowly but steadily.

“Lucullus was insane with fury that I refused to be with him anymore,” Chara said. “One night, he came out to the hillside with a half dozen other soldiers. They took me into the darkness. I doubt I have to tell you what they did with me.”

What made it more horrible to Sophia was the matter-of-fact way Chara told her the story. “Strabo tried to stop them, of course,” Chara said. “But he was too small. They hurt him badly and made him watch as Lucullus burned my face. Then they left both of us to die.”

Sophia could hardly breathe.

“The next morning, Akakios found us. He sent for John, who nursed us both. I believe I would have died, because the burn became horribly infected. But by the grace and power of Jesus the Christos I was healed. John prayed for me and the pain disappeared.”

Chara stopped. Lifted her veil again. Stared Sophia directly in the eyes.

Sophia didn’t flinch this time. She met Chara’s gaze.

“This is the face that Strabo saw. This is the woman he asked to marry him. He didn’t care who I was, or what I looked like. Strabo was in love with me.”

Chara took Sophia’s hand. Lifted it. Touched it lightly against her own face.

Sophia traced the scars. By looking fully in Chara’s face and accepting what was there, she began to see the woman for who she was and no longer felt an instinctive revulsion.

“I believe that had it been our Father’s will, even the scars would have been healed with that miracle, that my face would have become unblemished again,” Chara said. “But Strabo loves me as I am. And every day I am joyfully reminded that this is how the Christos loves me. Loves us. He sees past our outer appearance and past the ugliness of our sinful desires and angers and hatreds and whatever has happened in our past. I wish you understood that.”

Sophia blinked away tears. It felt like her heart was dissolving.

“I will not leave Strabo,” Chara said. “Find Ben-Aryeh and go on the boat with Akakios. Protect Zeno until I return.”

“I can’t!”

“Listen to me. Lucullus won’t kill Strabo. He hates him and wants to humiliate him because the two of us refuse to live in fear of him. We will get through this day and continue. When you live with the Christos in your heart, you can face any tribulation. But if Lucullus gets you, he and his soldiers will take you on a hillside and do with you what they did with me.”

Chara pushed away. “Go,” she said to Sophia. “Go.”

“Satisfied?” Pavo asked.

Vitas nodded. He was sitting in the shade of an awning set up on the ship’s deck.

“Who is my betrayer?” Pavo asked.

“You’re familiar with the common practice of kidnapping travelers and holding them for ransom,” Vitas answered.

“Wealthy travelers, yes.”

“The Jew that was my companion, does he strike you as wealthy?”

“No.”

“Yet he was taken hostage.”

“Here? In Alexandria?”

Vitas nodded. He explained how he had found out.

“All that proves is the stupidity of the kidnappers,” Pavo said. “Certainly not that someone on my ship has betrayed me.”

“The cape you gave me,” Vitas said. “I gave it to John. He stepped off this ship wearing it.”

Pavo was about to utter another caustic remark, but after a brief pause, he snapped his mouth shut.

“Yes,” Vitas said. “Someone thought he was me.”

“You’re trying to tell me that someone was waiting in Alexandria to kidnap you.”

“Yes.”

“Impossible.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Vitas said. “Because I wondered too. Ship is the fastest way to get a message to Alexandria from Rome. How could kidnappers in this city know ahead of your ship’s arrival that I would be on it?”

“Someone betrayed your friends in Rome.”

“No,” Vitas said. “I wondered about that too. I was put on your ship on short notice. Remember, you left at night. No time for anyone in Rome to send a letter on another leaving earlier.”

Pavo tapped his teeth with his finger. “But with all the bad luck and delays at sea, there was time for someone to send a letter on a ship that left after ours.”

“What if it wasn’t bad luck?”

Vitas saw comprehension light Pavo’s eyes. Pavo snapped his teeth shut with an audible click. His jaw muscles bulged with anger.

“Yes,” Vitas said. “If I were you, I would take a closer look at the steering oar that gave your navigator so much trouble. If you want more proof, give me enough men to free John. His kidnappers, I’m sure, will be able to tell you more.”

“No. Betto is a weak man. I’ll bind his hands and feet and hang him by his heels over the edge of the ship. He’ll tell me what I need to know.”

“Even so, I need enough men to free John,” Vitas said.

“Not my problem anymore.”

“Only after John is freed will I write the letter testifying I was delivered safely here in Alexandria.”

“Don’t need it,” Pavo said. “I finally know who you are and who you are fleeing. Nero.”

Vitas felt himself flinch. It earned a smile from Pavo.

“Nero,” Pavo repeated. “Your friends are rich and powerful and important, but compared to Nero, they are nothing. If any of them threaten me back in Rome, I know where I can find safety.”

Pavo’s smile widened. “I can afford to indulge your curiosity, as you have earned me a handsome reward. As you pointed out, this was a slow journey. Slow enough that a ship leaving Rome days after we did arrived in this harbor late yesterday.”

I was
pursued,
Vitas thought.
This means my death. And without doubt, the death of Sophia.

He glanced past Pavo, calculating his chances.

“I can read your eyes,” Pavo said. “Now you look for escape. But I’ve got my men at the gangplank. They’re on alert to stop you.”

Pavo clucked his tongue. “The only reason I bought that slave for you was because it meant you had to wait aboard the ship until the papers were returned. That also gave me time to send a man out to find those sent by Nero, the same men who came to my ship earlier looking for you, armed with a royal edict with a reward for your arrest.”

Sent by Nero
. That confirmed the worst of Vitas’s fears.

“The price for your slave,” Pavo continued, “was a tenth of the price I will earn from Nero for finding a way to keep you on the ship without getting suspicious until my messenger could find them.” He shrugged. “I guess your Jew friend is going to remain a hostage until his kidnappers find out he isn’t worth any money to them alive.”

Then came a sigh of satisfaction. “I must say, in the end, this journey has been worth all the trouble you caused. Even discovering I’ll need to find a new pilot.”

Vitas wondered if he should throw himself off the ship. He couldn’t swim. At least if he drowned, his death would give Sophia a chance of survival.

Vitas shifted his balance, ready to make a dash.

“So tell me, Aedinius Abito,” Pavo said, “what exactly did you do to incur the wrath of our emperor?”

Aedinius
Abito?

Before Vitas could reply, Pavo’s attention turned away from him as two men stepped onto the deck of the ship, one of them a lumbering giant.

“I guess I’ll find out when I get back to Rome to claim my reward,” Pavo said. “Here come the men from Nero now.”

Vitas looked at the approaching men and stifled a gasp of astonishment.

One of them was his brother, Damian.

A lit oil lamp had been set well to the side, in the clearing that Lucullus had chosen, a clearing surrounded by low scrub bushes. This made it easy for Ben-Aryeh to sneak close enough to watch. He paid the oil lamp little attention—the rest of the scene was more compelling.

Lucullus and the soldiers had set up a tall pyramid of four long poles, set wide at the bottom and leaning together at the top, with a tight circle of rope at the peak to band the poles solidly together. Another length of rope hung down from there, and Strabo dangled head-downward from this rope. They had bound his hands at his sides, and his head was barely a foot off the ground, hanging directly in the center of the makeshift pyramid.

Lucullus stood nearby, facing Strabo and looking down on Strabo’s feet and body and holding a large jug of wine. “Here’s a vintage you should enjoy,” Lucullus said. The other soldiers, gathered outside of the triangle, roared with laughter.

Lucullus nodded. One soldier stepped forward and held Strabo’s upside-down body. Another clamped a hand over the dwarf’s mouth.

Lucullus began to pour the red liquid into Strabo’s nose.

Strabo arched his back and shook his head violently, snorting and blowing through his nose in an attempt to clear it, which only made the soldiers laugh harder as the first two tried to contain Strabo’s kicking and bucking. His movement made the pyramid of poles sway, but true to the engineering tradition of Roman soldiers, their construction was too solid to collapse.

It was quickly apparent that Strabo was at the point of drowning, and Ben-Aryeh was profoundly grateful that he’d ordered Zeno to stay behind with Akakios; no son should ever see his father humiliated in this way.

Ben-Aryeh could not stand to watch it. He was about to stand and rush forward, even knowing it would be futile against the soldiers, when Lucullus stopped pouring wine.

“I’ve got plenty left,” Lucullus told Strabo, “and this is so much fun. But I don’t want to forget that I’ve promised you the same treatment I gave your whore wife.”