Broken Vessels (volume 2 of Jars of Clay) (7 page)

Helena
paused to gaze into her brother’s eyes. They were so different from Gordian’s
or Father and Mother’s—even from her own—for they were calm and without
torment. Curiosity, and yes, envy caused her to nod her head.

She
was amazed further, when he took her to the home of Saturus, the produce merchant.

Although she had often made purchases from the various
merchants in the Forum, and from the vendors off the side streets, she had
never in her life had occasion to step into a private dwelling place belonging
to one of them.

This end unit row house was a stark contrast to the vastness
she was accustomed to. Helena’s eyes darted across the small room, which was
clean and well lit, but by her standards sparse. Most notably there were no
idols or paintings of the gods of Rome to be seen anywhere.

A large man had answered her brother’s knock, and once inside,
they embraced like father and son. This act alone sent shivers down her back,
for she had never witnessed such intimacy between Cassius and Brutus.

“Welcome!” The burly man said, “You are early.”

Helena perceived  he would have said a lot more, but was
exercising caution because of her.

“Greetings Saturus,” said Cassius. “Please forgive me for
coming so soon. I did not realize I would meet my sister in the Forum. I desire
a quiet place to talk with her.”

“Certainly,” he said, tilting his head toward her, a sparkle in
his eye. “You will introduce us?”

“Of course! Forgive my rudeness. Saturus, this is my sister
Helena. Helena please allow me to introduce you to my dear friend, Saturus.”

“It is my pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“Likewise.”

“I will leave you two alone,” Saturus said, and then to
Cassius, “if you need anything from me, please call.”

“I will, thank you.”

When his host had left them, Cassius sat down, motioning for
his sister to join him.

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather stand,” she said.

“That’s fine with me.”

“Cassius,” she said with a flutter, “I’m confused. Why did you
bring me here? Who are these people? Why do you know them so well? They are
obviously beneath our class.”

Cassius held her gaze then said, “Helena, I have converted to
Christianity.”

“Oh.” So that was it. He had been persuaded by his love,
Priscilla.

She found herself seated suddenly despite her intention not to.

Willingness to associate with the lower classes was a commonly
known practice among the Christians, and a highly ridiculed one by those who
were not. She found herself terribly disturbed by her brother’s apparent
friendship with these people.

“Cassius, surely you know you can have the girl of your choice
without taking on her beliefs? Don’t we have plenty of gods and mysteries to
satisfy your desire for the divine?”

“Have they satisfied your desire for the divine, sister?”

She sat back. Did her gods satisfy the deep longings of her
heart? Could they fill the gaping hole left in her soul by Lucius? No, they did
not. But instead she pouted, defensively, “Don’t answer a question with a
question, Cassius. Besides, what can these people offer you that you cannot
find in your own father’s house?”

“The truth, Helena. And peace.”

“Brother, you shock me!”

“I’m sorry, I shall not lie.”

“I don’t understand.” She was on her feet again, pacing in
small circles. “Who is this Christ? Was he not a man, like yourself, and a Jew
on top of it?”

“He was, but so much more. He was God come in the flesh,
Helena. God, one true God, who created everything we see, everything we know.
He came to save us.”

This was insane. Helena stood and walked to the door. “Answer
me one thing, Cassius. How can a dead man save us?”

“A dead man can’t save us. But Jesus is no longer dead. He rose
from the dead. He is master over death. In Jesus Christ, even death has no
power over us! Don’t you see? In Christ we live, free from internal bondage in
this world, and forever with him in the next.”

Helena stopped pacing, locking eyes with her brother. It was
true. His eyes were peaceful. She had noticed this before. And Christianity,
she had to admit, had made a better man of Cassius, than Severus’s army had
made of Gordian.

“They say Christians are a Jewish sect, rebels against Roman
law.”

“Christians may be Jewish or gentile. We keep the laws of Rome,
insomuch as we do not have to break the law of grace written on our hearts.”

“They say your refusal to worship all the gods of Rome will
stir up their wrath, and that the gods will turn against Rome and the Emperor,
bringing ruin.”

“We insist on worshipping only one true God, that I cannot
deny. However, I believe it’s more upsetting to those who rule Rome, than to
the gods of their imaginations.”

Helena ignored her brother’s insubordinate attitude continuing,
“They say Christians plot secretly to overthrow Rome.”

“We only desire to spread the good news of Jesus Christ. We are
after souls, not seats in the senate.”

“Does Father know?”

“No.”

“Why do you not tell him?”

“I wait until the Lord tells me it’s time.”

“And this lord, told you it was time with me?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Well, I am not so easy to convince, Cassius. But I can
see  it has been of benefit to you, so I am willing to hear more. But I am not
prepared to convert. The price would be too great.”

“You will find it worth the price.”

“We will see.”

“There are more than two thousand Christians in Carthage, with
conversions happening daily.”

Helena nodded. Carthage boasted a population of more than
500,000, but two thousand Christians in the mix was admirable. She hadn’t
thought about the fact that many Roman’s were daily giving up their pagan
beliefs to follow a dead Jew. She had to wonder why.

Cassius continued. “We meet in small groups throughout the
city, to escape unnecessary detection.”

“They say Christitians do abominable things in secret. They say
they drink blood.”

“I will tell you for certain that I have never drunk blood, nor
has anyone in my company. We do celebrate the gift of blood that Christ poured
out for us, but we use wine to symbolize that.”

Cassius smiled at Helena gently. “There is a meeting scheduled
for later on this evening. Why don’t you stay? See for yourself what it is that
Christians do in secret.”

Chapter Thirteen

HELENA’S JOURNAL

201 AD

My life has been entirely altered. Even as I write this I am
like one who has narrowly escaped tragedy—a survivor of a carriage wreck, or
one who has had the good fortune to recover from a terrible sickness.

When Cassius convinced me to remain at the gathering of
Christian believers, it was my determined intent to observe only, and that I
did in the beginning. My first impressions were not so impressive, as the group
who arrived was a mixture of people who knew wealth and education and those who
did not. I was not surprised, in fact, for this I had expected, but I did not
realize that I would find it so disturbing, particularly when that red-headed
prostitute (they introduced me to her as Didia), and a slave, were included as
equals.

However, my foundations have been thoroughly shaken, for not
only did their kindness to each other and to me cause me to doubt my own
goodness, the strength of their belief in Jesus Christ overwhelmed me. I did
not believe in anything so fervently as they.

And this I had secretly longed for something, anything to be
passionate about in this life. Something that would dull the pain in my heart,
help me  finally to put my dreams of Lucius aside.

But not Jesus, not a Jew.

Then they began to pray, first Saturus, then the man Revocatus,
and the slave who was called Secundus. Even the women prayed including the
pretty girl Priscilla, and Didia. They loved their Lord, there could be no
denying it, and I found myself enjoying their pleasure.

How could I know I was about to be changed forever?

Saturus began to pray for me. At first I protested, reminding
him that I was there but to observe, and not as a participant. He looked at me
with such gentle eyes, and said, “Do not be afraid, Helena, the Lord loves
you.”

Unbelievably, I could not resist. The whole group of them
gathered around me to pray. They began to speak in many languages, tongues I
could not understand, and despite Saturus’s intention to comfort, I felt
afraid.

“Lord Jesus, you are gracious and merciful and compassionate to
all. A sparrow does not fall to the ground without you seeing it fall,” Saturus
prayed. “Even Lord, the sparrow that fell to the ground this morning. Father
even one close to Helena’s heart, you love her also and weep for her.”

Felicity! How could he know? Impossible! I told no one, not
even Cassius!

“Even as you love Helena, you love the little sparrows, and as
a mother hen gathers her chicks under her wing, you oh Lord, wish to gather
your children under your wings.”

I placed my hand on my abdomen where my baby stirred and,
despite all of my sensibility, despite all the years of solid Roman
indoctrination, suddenly I believed. Everything else I had placed my hopes in
seemed shallow and shaky.

I began to cry. First for the condition of my wretched soul,
for I became acutely aware of my inadequacies and failures, and then for joy,
as repentance brought the fruit of forgiveness. Peace.

I would not have thought it possible.

Later I wondered if it was all a dream and perhaps I would soon
awaken and come to my “senses.” But it was not, and I did not.

I, Helena Vibius, daughter of Rome, have become a Christian.

Chapter Fourteen

LUCIUS

The ropes that bound Lucius’s wrists and ankles wore against
his skin with every bump of the carriage. He wiggled his fingers and toes which
tingled painfully in an effort to keep the blood flowing. Thick strips of
vertical wooden branches stripped clean of bark created the cage where Lucius
now found himself a prisoner. He leaned against them, but no comfort could be
found. Bruises formed on his biceps where the Roman officers had gripped him in
the struggle.

He let out a long breath of frustration, silently cursing the
gods. How had this happened? After knowing freedom for such a short time, now
he was worse off than ever.

And what had been his crime? He’d been framed by Hermus.

A sour taste formed at the back of his throat when he thought
of the man. To rob a man of his freedom over a goose—which was owed to him!

Or was it because he had scorned his daughter? Perhaps that had
been his offense.

Either way, where were the gods of justice? Jupiter? Juno?
Where were they now?

Perhaps he had cursed them one too many times and this was his
punishment.

There must be a way to plead his case, to prove his innocence.
He wished now he’d studied Roman law with Helena. She would’ve found parchments
for him to read had he asked her.

Oh, why did he have to think of her now? If only he could catch
another glimpse of her. Even watching her from a distance as a freedman with no
hope of ever speaking to her or touching her again would be better than the
life he was heading for now. Being a prisoner of Rome would be a worse
existence than death.

His mind scurried, analyzing his situation. Was there possibly
a way of escape? Besides the rope tying his limbs together, two Roman officers
accompanied them, one positioned at the front of the carriage and one at the
back, both equipped with body armor and swords. Escape was impossible.

A groan escaped the lips of the man across from him. He had the
strong body that belonged to a man who had worked hard all his life, but the
wrinkles on his face and the looseness of his skin belied his old age. His ginger
hair was streaked with grey and was so long it mingled with his beard. The man
reminded Lucius of his own father.

“Felix,” the man next to the old man said. “Are you alright?”

The man grunted. “Yes, Titus, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

Titus, though far older than Lucius, was a younger version of
the man Felix with red hair like copper reflecting the sun. Lucius saw the
concern on his face and wondered if they were father and son, and if so, how
awful to be arrested together. He thought of his own father, Quintus, who
remained in the employment of Brutus Vibius, safe and content.

He was thankful that Quintus couldn’t see him now. Once again
his inability to hang on to his freedom for even a year brought him shame.

The carriage moved off the cobbles onto a dirt road. The change
brought relief from the bumpy ride, but in exchange, the prisoners were blasted
with dust. Lucius coughed and pressed dust out of his mouth with his tongue. He
would kill for a drink of water. His nosed itched and he tried to calm the
irritation with his shoulder. Through the bars he could see the city of Rome
grow small in the distance. The horizon had grown dark with an impending storm.

The old man stared at him. “How old are you, son?”

Lucius considered the man. Why should he tell him anything? Who
was he to pry?

But then again, who knew where they were going to end up,
perhaps even in the same prison cell. It wouldn’t hurt to have friends on his
side.

“This is my nineteenth year.”

The man huffed. “Damn, they’re taking them younger and
younger.”

Lucius wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but before he could
inquire the man continued.

“I’m Felix. This is my nephew, Titus.”

“I am called Lucius.”

They garnered the attention of one of the guards who shouted at
them to be quiet. A flash of lightning lit the sky. It was followed by a roar
of thunder.