Empire's End (30 page)

“I would never do such a thing, stranger, but prove yourself to me by telling me to whom you gave the money, and how much you paid him.”

What if the driver had taken the two drachmas and paid the man only half a drachma? That was between them; I could only tell the truth. “I paid the delivery driver two drachmas. He was to give you one.”

He looked thoroughly perplexed. “That is correct, sir. But he told me to look for a bearded man with a rim of thinning reddish hair.”

I smiled. “I've been to the barber in the meantime.” When still he frowned and hesitated, I added, “How else would I know the details?”

“I would be in serious trouble if these deliveries were lost or stolen.”

“Have no fear. My life would be worth nothing if I dared steal from the Roman army. Any idea what I am delivering?”

He set two boxes before me and looked none too comfortable with the arrangement. “I never ask and no one ever offers to tell me. It could be weapons, uniforms, equipment, anything. Of one thing I am certain: the contents are none of your concern.”

He told me how to get to the general's residence and said it was about
a ten-minute walk. “Avoid the government center by taking the slightly longer route to the west.”

I stiffened, hoping he hadn't noticed. How could he possibly know I didn't want to be seen by the authorities? No one had seen me for years, and they weren't likely to recognize me bald and clean-shaven, but still I was determined to circumvent them. “Why is that?” I said as causally as I could manage.

“Prefect Marullus is in his headquarters this week, so his entire staff is here as well. Many of them know me, and if they see someone else making my deliveries, they're bound to ask questions. What would you say?”

“Ah, good counsel. Thank you.”

I slung my bag around to the back, but when I set one box atop the other and bent to lift them, I nearly collapsed under the weight. I could not make two trips and was not willing to hire a conveyance. I would have to make this work.

Arms and legs straining, I set off, knowing it would take much longer than ten minutes but also praying the trip would be worth the effort. With the first step the top box shifted, and I instinctively shuffled to keep it balanced.

“You going to be all right?”

I slowly turned to see him eyeing me with a deeply concerned look.

“You have your money,” I said. “Don't worry about me.”

Nearly twenty-five minutes later I drew within sight of the general's home, my tunic and mantle drenched and my arms scraped raw. I set down the boxes and studied the spacious dwelling at the corner, which boasted open porticoes and a wide expanse of land, set off from a row of three-story apartments. Six heavily armed legionnaires patrolled the front, their backs to the entrance. I imagined they were there to keep two people in
as much as to keep intruders out. Who would try to invade the home of a Roman general?

I assumed the general kept his concubines in the apartments. Looking for signs of Taryn or Corydon, I saw near the house only a colorful pole that could have been a toy. My heart leapt when the boy scampered around the side wearing what appeared to be a cape made from the red cloth of a Roman uniform. He jumped and skipped and grabbed the pole, thrusting it like a spear, but still he bore the visage of the lonely. I ached for him.

I hefted the boxes again and moved toward the house, whereupon the two middle guards closed ranks and one lifted his chin, squinting at me. “Delivery for General Balbus,” I said. He gave the boxes a cursory glance and nodded toward the door, and as I headed past him Corydon stopped and looked at me. Leaning idly on his toy weapon and staring, as children do, he seemed to study me as I set the containers near the door and knocked. Could I trust him not to holler my name and come running?

But it was clear Corydon did not recognize me. Nor, at least at first, did the beautifully dressed and artfully adorned woman gazing at me from a patio directly overlooking the door from ten feet above. Taryn would know enough not to react aloud if she did realize it was me. I checked to be sure the guards were facing away from her, then turned back to look directly at her. The dryness of the desert had been refined from her. Her billowy dress was an elegant white, she wore no veil, and her olive skin and dark hair shone from creams and oils. She wore gold bracelets, rings, a necklace, a brooch, and another tasteful bauble in her long, flowing tresses.

Dazzling as she appeared, Taryn, too, emanated a depth of solitude and despair clouded by what perhaps began as curiosity at a new deliveryman. But that seemed to have become an affront over my lingering gaze.
I now pleaded with my eyes for her to see me, to know me. Abruptly a hand flew to her mouth and she turned away, then back, her eyes filling.

“Excuse me!” she called out, and I busied myself situating the boxes as all six guards spun to look up at her. “Have him bring the boxes around back. The general will want them there.”

“We can bring them,” one said.

“No, thank you, I prefer you remain at your posts.”

“Go on, then, man, and move along!”

Desperate not to attract more attention, I tried to look experienced but nearly tripped lifting the boxes. As I leaned the load against my chest and straightened, I noticed a miniature statue set into a small shelf over the door, as if standing sentry. Curious.

In the back I discovered four more guards. Ten to watch the house of one general? Where must he be, and how important was it that his “family” be confined to his home?

Taryn opened the door, pulled me in past the eyes and ears of the guards, and we communicated more in the few moments we dared spend alone than we had in any previous half hour together. We kissed deeply, she insisting that she had been forced to marry against her will and would never consider herself wed to a pagan in the eyes of God. “Decimus doesn't even believe in the Roman gods, let alone the one true God. He claims he fancies the Greeks' idea of some unknown god, but he lives like the devil.”

I asked if she would call in Corydon, but she feared he would say something when the general got home from a meeting with the prefect. “You must be gone before he gets back, Paul. He thinks you're dead. He mistook Brunon for you, paraded him around in a royal robe made from one of his men's capes, and then cut off his head before he crucified him.”

“I wondered what that was all about,” I said.

“Please!” Taryn said. “I'd risk my life to spend the rest of it with you, but I won't risk Corydon's or yours. You must go!”

I told her I was on my way to Tarsus but would try everything I knew to get messages to her, and I gave her the address of the synagogue.

I also told her of her father's last words, finding her note, burying him, of Damascus and Barnabas and Jerusalem and Nadav, and I asked her about Anna. She confirmed what Nadav had told me and said Anna would be relieved to hear he's alive, “but she still won't expect to ever see him again—or her children.”

“She's probably right.”

“Just as I'll probably never see you again, Paul.”

“We must not give up hope. I think of you always and pray for you and Corydon.”

“I love you, Paul.”

“I love you.”

Hearing something out front, she put a finger to her lips. “That's him! Go!” When I hesitated she rushed to the foot of the stairs. “Paul, please!”

Leaving her was agonizing, but when I heard the front door I rushed out the back as she trotted upstairs.

“Hey, yah, you're dead!” Corydon shouted, thrusting the pole at me. I nearly fainted.

“You got me,” I said, disguising my voice and turning away so he wouldn't recognize me.

And as I returned to the front of the house, my heart was full of gratitude and grief. Thankful for getting to see Taryn, I feared she was right—it was likely the last time. But when I breathed my thanks to the Lord, He filled me with a fresh touch of Himself. I was unexpectedly emboldened, my shoulders reared back, and my chest expanded.

A couple of the soldiers turned and watched as I went directly to the front door. “Forgot something,” I said, and I knocked loudly.

The general opened the door. “What do you want?”

“God sent me,” I said, staring up into the face of a man at least ten years my senior, forty pounds heavier, all muscle, and six inches taller.

“He did, did he?” Balbus said, looking miserable. “How'd you get past my detail? Commander!”

“I'm not talking about one of the phony gods the Romans want you to believe in. You know better than that. I'm talking about the One you think is unknown, the One you don't even know how to depict on your door here.”

A guard appeared behind me and addressed Balbus over my shoulder. “Have you already forgotten we've been decommissioned?”

“Disregard, Commander.”

“I no longer report to you, sir.”

“All right! Round up your men and—”

“That's what I was trying to do.”

“Just carry on!”

What was this? The guards were leaving? Those from the back had joined the ones in front, and they were climbing into a wagon that had just pulled up.

“Changing of the guard?” I said.

“It certainly doesn't concern you. Now I don't have the time—”

“You consider yourself a religious man, General, I see that. I proclaim that this One you purport to worship without knowing is the God who made the world and everything in it.”

“I am not inclined to talk about this. I've just returned from a meeting where—”

“You would do well to take the time, sir, as the unknown God I
am referring to is not happy that but two months ago you attacked and slaughtered people who bear His name.”

The general narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “Are you from the prefect's staff? I told him I would surrender my equipment and leave this—”

“I told you. God sent me.”

“Prove it.”

“The Arabian Desert.”

“Whom have you been talking to?”

“God.”

“If one of my men—”

“Your orders were to spare no one.”

“How well I know. But you know nothing of my orders. I make one mistake in dozens of campaigns, after having established my own strategies—”

“You have well said your ‘own purposes,' for three of the seven you think you spared live under your own roofs now. You delivered the wrong head to your prefect, and look what it has cost you.”

“It has cost me everything. Just because the one who eluded me turned up in Jerusalem.”

“If you knew who it is who speaks to you, you would have invited him in to sit with you.”

The general waxed pale and stepped aside so I could enter and we sat across from each other. His voice came labored and hoarse. “Who did you say you were?”

“I speak for the unknown God. He is Lord of heaven and earth and does not dwell in temples made with hands. Nor is He worshiped with men's hands, as though He needed anything, since He gives life, breath, and all things to all.”

Balbus appeared to try to gather himself. “I was a senior officer of the greatest Empire on earth. I—”

“General, God has created from one blood every nation to dwell on the face of the earth. He has determined their preappointed times to live and die, as well as where they will live, so that they should seek Him in the hope that they might find Him. He is not far from each one of us, for in Him we live and move and have our being.

“Since we are His children, we ought not think that His divine nature is like gold or silver or stone, something shaped by art or man's devising. God commands men everywhere to repent, because He has appointed a day on which He will judge the world in righteousness by the Man He has ordained. He has given assurance of this to all by raising Him from the dead.”

Taryn appeared at the top of the stairs.

Balbus said, “God ordained a man by raising him from the dead?”

“He has. Would you like to know who He is?”

He nodded.

I began telling him my story, and his eyes darted past me to where his guards had stood out front. Clearly it had dawned on him that I was the man he was supposed to have crucified in Yanbu sixty days before—either that or an impostor, a ghost, or an avenger. Plainly I was unarmed and no match for him. Yet without question he was scared.

I told him of my journey to Damascus and all that had happened. “General, He wanted me to open other peoples' eyes, so they could turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God, that they might receive forgiveness of sins and be sanctified by faith in Christ.”

Balbus' hands shook, though he tried to hide it. “I want you out of my house.”

“God does not want me out of your presence until I have told you
everything He wants me to say. I am not at liberty to be disobedient to my heavenly calling but must declare the truth to you as I did first to those in Damascus and then in Jerusalem, and soon to the Gentiles, that they should repent and turn to God. For this reason people have tried to seize me and kill me—including you yourself. But with help from God, to this day I stand. And woe to you should you try again.”

“How did you elude me?”

“By being obedient to God and saying no other things than those that the prophets and Moses said, that Christ would suffer, that He would be the first to rise from the dead and would proclaim light to the Jewish people and to the Gentiles. God will defend whom He will defend, and no one—including you—shall be able to stand against them.”

The general stood. “You are mad. How do you know I can't have you slain where you sit with but a command to my troops?”

“I don't know. But I am not mad. Rather I speak truth and reason.”

Balbus grabbed the neckline of my tunic and lifted me to stand before him. Drawing me close to his face he said evenly, “I could have had the men surrounding my house in here with the snap of a finger. If you are who you claim to be, that makes eight who survived. By my hand alone, four of you could be dead in minutes, and I would do it without remorse.”