Empire's End (32 page)

“But the general—”

“Taryn, don't breathe another word about that ogre. I wanted to kill him, but God has taken care of that, and none of it changed how I feel about you.”

“But you couldn't—”

“None of it changed how I feel about you.”

“How could you marry a woman who was treated like a—”

“Taryn, I would have married you regardless that he forced himself upon you.”

“But he changed how I feel about myself, Paul. I can kiss you and let you hold me because I never felt wed in the eyes of God, but I could never . . .”

“That would not have stood in my way, Taryn.”

She sat quiet for a long time. “That's kind of you, but I would have felt pitied.”

“I feel bad that you were shamefully treated, but God has judged him. I certainly would not have judged you.”

“You would still have married me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Even if we could not have been . . .”

“Intimate?” I said.

“That's what I'm saying.”

“Because he made a victim of you? I cannot accept that. If you refused to marry me for that reason, that would be your decision, but certainly not mine. Never mine.”

She faced me again. “Then Paul, what are we agreed upon? Are we not sad because we know tonight is the end for us?”

“Yes.”

“Yet you would have married me, in spite of it all?”

“Yes.”

“Then, what?”

“I cannot.”

“You see?” she said. “I'm not worthy.”

“I don't believe that.”

“Especially not worthy of a man of God, a man called as you have been. He has someone else for you, Paul, don't you understand? Someone the Lord has prepared for you, someone pure.”

I shook my head. “I'll not even look upon another woman. My calling leaves no room for a wife. It will be hard enough for me, let alone for a family. I would be asking too much of you to travel with me and face the hardships I must endure.”

“You need to know that if I felt worthy, I would be willing without question. I love you with all that is in me.”

“That is all I can ask, save one thing.”

“Name it, Paul. If it is within my power, I promise—”

“Acknowledge that nothing forced upon you in any way changed your value. I'll be unable to live with myself if I leave knowing you feel diminished at all by what the general did to you. You remain the same pure woman I fell in love with.”

Taryn turned back to face the ship and the water, the warm salt breeze,
and the sounds of the harbor. I believe I at least convinced her of my feelings. And I believe we shared an ache so deep it needed no more words.

We stood and she embraced me long and tenderly. “What did you mean about the general,” she said, “when you said God had judged him?”

“It isn't pleasant.”

“Tell me.”

“Not long after we left him, he fell on his own sword.”

She drew in a breath and looked deep into my eyes, then thrust out her chin and looked away. “I shouldn't be surprised. There's no way he could have lived with the humiliation of losing his position. God forgive me, I should mourn that he didn't repent of his sins. But I find myself grateful for justice.”

“No one would fault you. I feel the same.”

“And you have no pangs of conscience?”

“Had I not given him the gospel, I might,” I said. “But you heard me tell him plainly.”

“I also heard him try to turn you out of his house.”

We walked slowly toward the inn, each with an arm around the other's waist, promising to stay in contact by letters, no matter where we found ourselves over the years. “I will never stop loving you,” I said. “And if God should ever grant me the freedom—”

“You could do me no greater honor, Paul. And know you take with you all my love forever. I pray God's richest blessing on your every step.”

A block from where we left Anna and Corydon, Taryn and I kissed for the last time, and I feared I would never see her again.

We found Anna on a stone bench with Corydon asleep in her lap. I offered to hold him so Taryn could give her the news about General Balbus.

“What about him?” Anna said, handing me the boy. He lay his head on my shoulder, and I kissed his cheek. How I would miss him!

Taryn pulled Anna away and spoke quickly. The woman soon exulted, then remembered to quiet herself. “Some of the others and I were plotting to kill the pig ourselves,” she whispered.

After final embraces all around, I placed my hand on Anna's forehead. “Father, I ask that my sister be filled with the knowledge of Your will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding, that she may walk worthy of You, fully pleasing, being fruitful in every good work and increasing in her knowledge of You.”

I touched Taryn and Corydon's foreheads and prayed, “Father, strengthen these, my beloved, with all might, according to Your glorious power, for all patience and longsuffering with joy, giving thanks to You who have qualified them to partake of the inheritance of the saints. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Anna turned away as Taryn, Corydon draped over her shoulder, nodded a silent farewell—tears streaming.

The walk to where I would spend the rest of my sleepless night near the harbor was longest and loneliest of my life.

THE MEDITERRANEAN

F
OR SOMEONE WITH MY
disposition, fatigue does not contribute to a productive day. My normal course consisted of vigorous daily activity resulting in sound sleep and an early awakening. With the day I had endured, full of the whole gamut of emotions, from fear to elation to sadness and longing, compounded by great physical exertion and then the inability to sleep, I boarded the ship bound for my homeland with a weariness that draped over me like a thick, woolen cloak. I felt as if my legs were wood, my arms rock.

I bore no earthly belongings but my leather bag containing my parchments and writing implements. A wool cloak would have been a welcome addition. In my sluggish morning prayer time, as I sat topside nodding and forcing a smile for those cordial fellow passengers who deigned to greet me, I apologized to the Lord for bringing less than my best self to His work for the day. I feared that if He brought opportunities to share
His gospel with anyone, I might not be vigilant enough even to recognize the prospect.

Fortify yourself with rest, for in due time I will trouble the waters to make pliant the ears of the voyagers
.

I went below decks to the tiny area I had been allotted, secured my bag, slipped off my sandals, and set about stretching out on the hammock of rope affixed to the beams. It was good I was the only one with a nap in mind at that hour, as it had been years since I had attempted this and looked anything but a seaman.

The contraption swung toward me when I put my foot in, then pitched me to the floor when I attempted to roll onto it. Eventually I had to hold tight to the ropes on either side, steady myself with one foot and leap off the other, hoping to land square on my back on a moving target. I accomplished this, only to cause the bed to bang the side of the ship then sway perpendicular to the floor, forcing me to hang on lest I be hurled out anew.

When I was sore and exhausted from the effort, the wild rocking finally slowed and the movement of the ship lulled me nearly to sleep. I became only vaguely aware of conversations and footsteps topside as the great vessel was readied to leave the dock. With shouted commands and running about, the crew loosed the lines, and amid cheers and groaning and squeaking, the craft shoved off.

I was the only passenger below, and I slept all day, for it was twilight when I finally extricated myself from the rope bed—no more gracefully than how I had mounted it—and made my way above. Passengers drew shawls about their shoulders as they crowded the sides to watch the moon rise and await a dinner of fresh fish. Crew members scampered about the rigging and trimmed sails as the ship cut smoothly through the Mediterranean.

I asked how fast we were going and told a crewman to consider me a non-seaman. “If we were on land,” he said, “I'd estimate us at about seven miles an hour, sir. She's a big craft.”

I felt rested and had grown hungry. I found a secluded seat and prayed for Taryn while also asking God to prepare me for whatever lay ahead—in the water and in my homeland.

An hour later, our section of the ship sat about forty passengers who passed bowls of steaming whitefish and vegetables with bread. I was told that about 160 other passengers were eating elsewhere. I may have been the only one who noticed whitecaps forming in the moonlight. I drew my mantle closer around my neck and wasn't surprised when a deckhand called for attention and announced the crew would be picking up the serving bowls early, as the captain and navigator anticipated strong winds.

We passengers were instructed to make our way below decks until dawn or an all-clear announcement, and we were advised to stay away from beams and protrusions should the ship begin to shift or roll. “We don't foresee anything severe, but we want you to avoid being tossed about. Should our angle spill any lamp oil, it's safest to douse all the lamps to avoid fires.”

I sat in the middle of my hammock, finding that much easier to manage, and felt reasonably secure with my arms spread, holding fast to the outer ropes. As I was positioned in the front corner of the quarters, I would not have to move to shout for everyone's attention.

It wasn't long before the excitement began.

I had noticed many aboard wore Jewish garb, as well as Greeks I surmised were sober people of some faith. They were organizing their belongings and preparing their sleeping arrangements when the ship began to rock and sway, gradually at first and then with more force.
Many immediately commenced to pray, which told me that when God brought on the crisis He had foretold, they would be ripe for listening.

Suddenly the bow of the ship came out of the water and must have risen nearly ten feet, as I was pressed back and heard shrieks as lamps went out and oil spilled throughout. Several shouted to douse the lamps, which many rushed to do, just as the keel slammed back to the surface and a number of people fell, screaming.

Within moments all the lamps had been snuffed and numerous people sniffled in fear.

“Be not afraid!” I cried out. “God is with us!”

“Be quiet!” someone said.

“Shut up!”

“What?” came a plaintive call from a woman. “Let him speak! I'm frightened.”

“Yes, speak!”

“God is with us!” I said. “Men and women, sons and daughters of the family of Abraham, and all those among you who fear God, to you the word of salvation has been sent!”

“What do you mean?”

“I bear a message from God on high if you care to hear it!”

“Yes, yes! Speak! Please!”

“Very well! The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob sent His Son Jesus to Jerusalem as the promised Messiah. But those who dwell there and their rulers, because they did not know Him or understand the voices of the prophets that are read every Sabbath, fulfilled those prophets by condemning Him. And though they found no cause for death in Him, they asked Pontius Pilate to crucify Him anyway.

“When they had fulfilled all that was written concerning Him, they took Him down from the tree and laid Him in a tomb. But God raised
Him from the dead. The risen Christ was seen for many days by those who came up with Him from Galilee to Jerusalem, who are His witnesses to the people. I myself saw Him later on the road to Damascus and declare to you glad tidings—the same promise that was made to the fathers of old.

“God has fulfilled this promise of the Messiah for us their children, in that He has raised up Jesus. As it is written in the second psalm: ‘You are My Son, today I have begotten You.'

“I am making it known to you, brothers and sisters, that through this man Jesus comes the forgiveness of sins. By Him everyone who believes is justified.”

“I believe!” someone shouted.

“So do I!”

“I as well!”

The sea continued to roil and the ship to toss.

“Pray Jesus will save us all!”

I prayed, “Father, calm the sea in the name of Jesus!” and it was as if the ship stopped dead in the water.

“God is real!” someone called out.

“Praise God!”

“I believe in Jesus!”

Many cheered, then all fell silent. From above we heard cautious footsteps, then running. The hatch opened. “Light the lamps!”

Tiny flames appeared all over and people called out to know who the preacher had been. I stood and raised a hand. “I will pray with any who wish, and I will tell you how the Lord Jesus Himself met me on the road to Damascus. Peace be unto you!”

As people rushed topside, most stopped to shake my hand and tell me they would find me later to talk. Within minutes I followed the last of them up and found the ship absolutely still in the water. Regardless what
the crew did with the sails, the Mediterranean was not moving, and not a puff of wind could be felt. It was nearly as disconcerting as the storm had been.

“Are there oars?” someone called out. “Are we stuck here?”

“It's not that kind of a vessel!” a crew member said. “We're what is called ‘becalmed,' but it won't last long. It never does.”

But it did. It was midnight before a minor swell turned the ship slightly, then a gentle breeze caused a dull thud in the lower sail and broke the craft's inertia. Cheers arose from the passengers and many began making their way back down to the sleeping quarters.

Wide awake now, I remained topside enjoying the warm stillness of the night and the slow, quiet movement of the ship. And people began seeking me out, asking about Jesus. Some had heard about Him. To others He was just a name. Many were curious about my having come from such a religious background, opposing Him and the people who believed in and revered Him, even to the point of violently attacking them—then becoming a most enthusiastic proponent of His gospel.