I, Saul (11 page)

Luke saw Timothy off a few days before Mark was expected and found himself so eager to finally see Paul's writings that he could barely sleep. The next time he visited his friend, he said, “Your writings won't embarrass Mark, will they?”

“There's nothing for him to be embarrassed about,” Paul said. “He had to see, to learn, to grow.”

“To repent.”

“Well, yes. And Timothy's report that Mark still regrets it shows he fully learned his lesson. If you were so worried about his embarrassment, why did you mention our differences in your own account of the first days of the church?”

Luke's writings, including his account of the Christ, based on extensive interviews—mostly with Peter—were being copied and starting to
make the rounds of the churches. His recounting of the earliest acts of the apostles included a summary of Paul's falling out with Barnabas—Mark's cousin—over having Mark rejoin them in their efforts. Paul refused, and he and Barnabas parted company over it. Though they never ministered together again, Paul often spoke kindly of Barnabas. Luke's account included Paul clarifying his objection to Mark, so no reader was unaware. If Paul's own memoir shed more light on the subject, including how they reconciled, so much the better.

At long last a message arrived from Mark that he had reached Puteoli. “Greet Paul with my sincerest affection and all blessings in Christ, and assure him I will get his belongings to him. I pray you are both well and eagerly look forward to seeing you.”

Paul seemed barely able to contain himself. “My parchments! But you know what I most look forward to beyond those? Having Mark read to me his own record of Jesus. Like Matthew, he was there.”

“You
have
read it! We have delivered copies all over the world.”

“Yes, but to hear it from his own lips, and to be able to ask questions … How is Mark able to afford to get here?”

Luke told him of the gift from Onesiphorus, which made Paul immediately tear up. “Is there no end to the tenderness of that man's heart? God bless him and his household!”

“I don't know that he intended the money for such a purpose, but if you—.”

“Knowing him,” Paul said, “he would want me to use it in any way I see fit.”

“Mark will be eager to get out of that smelly port city. What is it about that place?”

Paul shook his head. “It makes even this place smell like a garden. Whether it's all the wells or the mineral springs, I don't know. Many have no choice, but how anyone would choose to live with all that sulfur ….”

Four days later Mark sent word to Luke that he had arrived at military stables a few miles outside Rome. Luke hired a carriage and, after embracing his old friend, explained why he had gone to the expense. “It's too far to walk, and I'll not be carrying you.”

“There's a denarius in it if you do,” Mark said, his bag over his shoulder and a long walking stick in his other hand.

“I charge five denarii per mile for such service.”

“You're a mean-spirited doctor.”

At Panthera's home, Luke and Mark sat at the table as the guard's wife busied herself at the oven. “I'm sorry there's no room for a guest in your quarters,” she called out.

“There is if I sleep on the floor,” Luke said.

“Then he is most welcome, as is any guest you bring. I just want you both to be comfortable.”

Mark said, “I'm happy to pay for the inconvenience.”

“No!” she said, setting a hot pan of food between them. “We don't charge.” She laughed. “If you want to stumble over each other, what is that to me?”

When it was time to leave for the prison, Mark immediately rose and began stuffing his bag.

“Take your time, friend,” Luke said. “And I can help carry some things.”

“You have enough with all the food,” Mark said.

When they finally reached Primus outside the prison gate, Luke
made the introductions. Primus lit a small torch and led them into the building, Mark following with his walking stick.

“How has the prisoner been?” Luke said.

“Quieter than I ever recall. Lonely, I'm sure. I slipped him a lamp at the start of my watch the other evening, but someone confiscated it” “So he's been in the dark the rest of the time.”

“I'm afraid so.”

Luke noticed Mark holding his nose as they passed the commoners' cells. More bodies had been stacked, awaiting disposal. As they neared the end of the cell block, Luke was startled by Mark's cry as he dropped heavily to the filthy floor.

Luke and Primus whirled, and as Luke bent to help Mark up, Primus handed him the torch and reached through the bars to retrieve Mark's stick. A prisoner had thrust his hand out and snatched it. Now he was trying to keep it from Primus.

Luke had never seen the guard so furious. His face turned a deep red and his veins bulged in the flickering light as he reached deep into the cell. The other prisoners tripped over each other to avoid his massive arm. He spoke quietly but with such ferocity that Luke feared he would hurt someone.

“Make me unlock this cage and come in there,” he said, “and you'll not see midnight.”

The prisoner with the stick appeared gleeful, as if any attention was better than none. The others watched with what appeared fascination and fear, as if unable to believe their cohort had done something so rash.

The prisoner edged one end of the stick toward Primus' hand, touched his fingers with it, and pulled it back again. Primus stood to his full height and began pawing at the keys on his belt.

“Here! Here!” the prisoner said, poking the stick out through the bars.

Primus wrenched it away so fast that it flew from his grip and clattered to the floor. He grabbed it and now wielded it like a club. Luke ducked and covered Mark as the guard swung it full force at the bars.

With a loud clang and crack, the whole cage seemed to move. The prisoners fell back as the wood splintered. “What did you want with a stick anyway, slave?” The prisoners filling the cell scrambled to the wall and squatted on their haunches, terror in their eyes.

“I'll execute your sentence right now!” Primus hollered, keys in hand again.

“No!” Mark cried out. “Forgive him! He was just curious!”

Luke rose and whispered to Primus, “He's not long for this world anyway, friend. Look at his eyes. It's all right.”

The man's eyes nearly glowed yellow. Whatever was killing him would not be remedied in here. “It's your lucky day, scum!” Primus hissed.

The prisoner was on his knees now, hands clasped before him. “Thank you! Thank you!”

The guards surrounding the hole had emerged to see what was going on. Now they backed away from Primus, who still looked as if he wanted to take off someone's head. “Now I've gone and damaged your stick, Mark. I'll find you another.”

“Don't worry about it,” Mark said, peering into the hole. “I won't need it down there anyway.”

“Mark!” came the weak scratchy voice from below. “Is that you?”

“Paul! I'm on my way down!”

“Praise God!”

Primus helped Luke down first and dropped him the satchel. Luke lit his lamp and embraced Paul, and they stood together watching Primus
slowly lower Mark through the opening. He rushed to Paul and fell into his arms.

Paul wept and prayed and exulted over his friend. “And you were able to find all my things?”

“Everything. I brought it all.”

“Even your own account? You can read it to me?”

“I'll be pleased to, Paul, but I know what you want most of all.”

“Just knowing my parchments are here is enough for now.”

“Since when have your writings been private? We copy your letters and take them all over the world. Timothy is even having your last letter copied.”

“With my permission, though that wasn't my intent.”

“Everyone benefits, Paul. The brethren in all the churches are encouraged by your letters only slightly less than if you joined them in person.”

Paul sighed and sat, whispering to Mark of the danger to the brethren contained in his memoir. “I will leave them in Luke's custody and trust his judgment about who should see them.”

Mark nodded with a knowing look. “You don't want me to see what you have written about me.”

“Not until I'm gone. But you have seen my latest letter to Timothy, so you know I speak well of you to all. Now I want you to read to me from your account of the Master.”

While Mark was finding it among his things, Luke whispered, “Paul, have you been able to talk with Primus?”

“Some. He always looks about, worried his comrades are listening. I believe he has a soft heart, Luke. You must keep in touch with him after I'm gone. He greatly admires you.”

“We have become friends.”

Luke held the lamp as Mark sat next to Paul on the stone bench and spread out his gospel. He began:

Luke could not remember Paul ever looking so content, so fulfilled, so rapturous.

Sofia had saved a place for Augie at dinner that night at the hotel near Petra. Though he had to fight to suppress a smile, he kept things polite and formal with her—which seemed to amuse her too.

“By the way, you're off the hook for the climb to the high place,” she said. “I couldn't walk another step. Sorry. I appreciate it. And I really wanted to see Petra from up there, but—.”

He held up a hand. “I know you're beat. But it would mean a lot to me if you'd come. I promise you won't regret it.”

She lowered her chin and narrowed her eyes. “You're serious. Well, if it's that important to you ….”

“It is.”

“And if you want to give me a piggyback ride there and back ….”

He laughed. “I'll at least find us a ride to the base of the climb.”

“And what's my guarantee? You promised I wouldn't regret it. What if I do?”

“Then I'll never do it again.”

Her smile and laugh made Augie feel her look had been created for his pleasure.

When dinner was over, Augie and Roger stood at the door as people filed out, thanking them for the week. When the Trikoupises reached them and were talking with Roger, Augie whispered to Sofia, “We'll have to hurry to beat the crowds. I just have to run to my room for my flashlight and a jacket. You'll want a sweater or something.”

“It's still in the 90s out there.”

“Suit yourself”
Got to admire a woman with her own mind.

“Now that's what I call a flashlight,” Sofia said a few minutes later when Augie showed up with a boxy contraption that emitted about ten times the light of a standard one. He also had two bottles of water and had tied a hooded sweatshirt around his waist.

They hurried across the road, past the souvenir shops—most still open—and finally reached the long expanse that led to the Siq, the mile-long, narrow gorge into ancient Petra. There Augie hired a horse-drawn carriage to take them directly to the base of the high place. As soon as they crowded into the back, they were off, bouncing and jostling, Augie fighting to keep from landing in Sofia's lap. He loved her giggle.