Authors: Tim Lahaye 7 Jerry B. Jenkins

Luke's Story (6 page)

BOOK: Luke's Story

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Saul continued to organize athletic contests, though nothing near as foolish as his beginners’ marathon. He seemed to be everywhere, and when he was not given an audience, he created one. Nearly every week Luke came upon him standing atop a crate or a rock and forcefully railing against some real or imagined ill on the campus. If the crowd thinned, Saul would shout some bold claim against some nearly sacred tenet of Stoicism, such as that it was impossible for a man to achieve either peace or virtue aside from the acknowledgment of God. And before Luke knew it, Paul would be surrounded by more students and even faculty.

Strangely, this breach in a friendship that had barely been born had a positive influence on Luke nt respect. It seemed to him he had only two things on his mind every waking moment. He missed what he thought he had had with Saul. And he became obsessive about his studies.

Not spending hours interacting with Saul allowed Luke uninterrupted time for his reading. And while he often discussed texts and academic pursuits with other students, he did not allow himself to become as invested as he had with Saul. Yes, he was aware he was afraid of being disappointed or cast aside again. And Luke also had to admit to himself that no one else argued in quite the same maddeningly cogent manner Saul did.

That didn’t mean Saul was always right, but he was certainly hard to argue with—and that had made it all the more invigorating.

Luke found himself becoming a loner, which he eventually decided was good for his studies. He could not, would not, lower himself to whatever position Saul needed to place him in for a relationship to work. On the rare occasions when he would
personally run into the man or catch his eye, Luke thought he detected regret and even sadness in Saul. Was it possible he missed their interaction too?

Perhaps, but the man could not have been clearer that Luke had to know and understand and, as a Stoic, accept and keep his place. And that place? Luke was a pagan, a heathen, a slave, a Greek. Worse, he was a Gentile. Compared with Saul, yes, Luke was all those things. And while, as Saul said, Saul was born what he was while Luke chose his own philosophy of life (despite being born a slave), Luke decided that Stoicism surely seemed more humane than Judaism and certainly Pharisaism.

The only way to reengage with Saul without accepting a thoroughly subservient role, Luke knew, was to play Saul’s game, to confront him, challenge him, argue with him, dispute his claim of superiority. The problem was that, while Luke could not accept Saul’s lofty image of himself—especially from a moral and religious standpoint—neither could he deny that the man’s intellect far outstripped his own.

At times Luke felt so lonely and so missed the stimulation of arguing with Saul that he considered stepping out of character and tangling with him. But it just wasn’t in him. Confrontation just for the sake of interaction was not part of his makeup. Luke enjoyed being known as a compassionate, caring, listening sort. It suited him, confirmed his own view of himself. His parents had not been of a station that would allow them to be anything but subservient, and yet even among their peers, they had never been confrontational. His father had never hesitated to tell Luke or his mother what he thought, but otherwise he was polite and gentle, a hard worker and diligent. Luke was grateful for that example. But if he had to credit his own gentler personality traits to anyone, Luke looked to Theophilus. The man, though at times naive regarding how his own slaves viewed him, was nonetheless unwaveringly fair and kind and generous.

THE EVENING before a holiday that would see him return to Antioch for the first time, Luke put quill to papyrus and wrote Theophilus. His plan was to tell his master just how much more he valued him and regarded him after half a year at university, and in the event the words would not come when they were face to face, the scroll would havehe ond all that had transpired with Saul and his resultant loneliness. “Do not fret over this,” he concluded, “as I have discovered the benefits of it for my studies, which remain my top priority here. My goal remains to make you proud and to affirm your faith in me. As I write this I await our reunion with eager anticipation and you have my every good wish that all is well there, including your health and that of your family and servants.”

To Luke’s great distress, and yet it should hardly have been a surprise, none other than Diabolos showed up to retrieve him from the harbor. Fortunately the trip was a short one, because the driver had been directed to take Luke to the Mediterranean retreat rather than to the main estate in Daphne.

“No trouble, I hope,” Luke said, as he helped Diabolos load the carriage.

“Trouble for who?”

“Sickness I mean, in Daphne. The master is not trying to avoid another plague or anything . . .”

“Oh, no, your majesty. This is all for your benefit so you don’t have to rub shoulders with the likes of us.”

“Oh, don’t Diabolos. I
am
the likes of you, and I looked forward to enjoying my own bed in my own quarters, among my friends.”

“You don’t have any friends in Daphne anymore, Loukon.”

“Please, call me Luke.”

“Oh, you’ve given up your name now too? Well,
Luke,
the rest of Theophilus’s slaves are quite aware of the difference between us and you by now. You’re to spend your entire holiday with only the master and his family here, living in their house, eating at their table, watching their sunsets. And guess who has been awarded the unspeakable privilege of getting to live in the servants’ quarters and attend to your every need?”

“No one, I hope. I need no such aide, and I prefer—”

“Oh, no, no, it’s not up to you, exalted one. And it wasn’t up to me either or I might have declined.”

“You? Oh, I’m so sorry, Diabolos. I will talk with the master and—”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort. I assured him that if he had not assigned me, I would have volunteered.”

“But I thought you said you would have declined.”

“How like you to not listen. I said it wasn’t up to me. Unlike for you, nothing is up to me.”

“Why do you torment yourself that way? Do you look for opportunities to betray me somehow, make my life miserable?”

“I wish I had the power, but no. I’m merely trying to play the game,
Luke.
I need to be in the master’s good graces to get any privileges around here. I did myself no good by being so obvious against you last time.”

“I did not inform the master.”

“Someone did. He lectured me and told me that you asked for merc good by bs still red-faced and distracted. Luke wished he could get a message to Diabolos and decided he would somehow find a way to Daphne during the week under the pretense of wanting to reunite with friends, but primarily intending to clear the air with the slave.

The handsome couple on the veranda turned out to be associates of Theophilus and his wife, apparently invited to meet Luke with the intention of eventually introducing him to their daughter. Luke was stricken dumb at the thought. This, he had heard, was how marriages were arranged, but surely not for a slave. Slave marriages were arranged too, but only among those of their own kind. He had no business talking with these people about such an idea.

Luke quickly tried to assess the situation. The mother beamed at him from behind her husband. She was beautiful with a knowing smile and seemed to like what she saw in Luke. If the daughter looked anything like her, Luke would be a fool not to want to meet her.

The husband bore a more serious visage as he clearly studied Luke from head to toe. Meanwhile, Theophilus seemed to be going through some trauma. He sat off to the side, out of their vision but fully in Luke’s, and seemed to be trying to communicate something to him with dancing eyebrows, winks, pursed lips, and the like. Luke was tempted to just say, “What is it, master? What do you want me to say or not say and why didn’t you just advise me when we were in the kitchen?”

“So you are an adopted son of this father of many daughters,” the man said.

Luke glanced at Theophilus, who nodded vigorously. It didn’t seem right to lie, so Luke said, “Well, yes, sort of unofficially, yes. I lost my parents to a plague and—”

“That’s so awful,” the woman said. “It must have been terrible for you.”

“It was. In many ways it still is.”

“And what was your father’s business?” the husband said.

“He was a tiller, sir. He tended the gardens, alongside my mother.”

The couple seemed to freeze in place, their expressions locked. The man cleared his throat. “Tell me, Luke, are you a Roman citizen?”

“Ah, no, not yet. I look forward to that very much upon completion of my university training.”

“In medicine.”

“Correct.”

The man turned to Theophilus, who looked apoplectic. “You intend to free this man then, I presume.”

“Yes,” Theophilus said, his voice squeaking. “He will serve as our physician for a time, then be free to pursue his own goals.”

“One of which,” Luke said, “is to perhaps be a ship’s doctor, which would jeopardize my candidacy for husbandhood, would it not?”

The woman scowled. “If you’re looking for a reason not meet our daughter, look nle div height="6">

“Theophilus,” the man said, a whine in his voice, “you could have told us.”

“He’ll be a freeman soon enough,” Theophilus said, “and he will make someone a fine husband.”

“Someone, perhaps. But not our daughter.”

They rose to leave, ignoring Luke. Theophilus’s aides shook their heads at Luke as the master escorted the couple out, and of course he soon returned and dismissed everyone but Luke.

Theophilus sat heavily and pressed his lips together. Then, “Luke, I expected more circumspection.”

“Lies, you mean? Why didn’t you say so?”

“Of course I didn’t want you to lie. I didn’t lie. I just thought you’d be able to assess the situation and—”

“Sir, forgive me, but you lied by omission. Are you ashamed to have become the patron of a slave? Is that why you have pledged to free me? Would it embarrass you to have a slave as a physician?”

“You’re bordering on impudence, son.”

“I apologize. I don’t mean to. But frankly, your actions here disappoint me too.”

Theophilus turned and gazed out to the sea, now dark, as the sun was disappearing. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just that I have met the young woman, and she is a treasure.”

“Does she share her parents’ view of those beneath her station?”

“Oh, they don’t really feel that way, Luke. They too are Stoics.”

“As it suits them. They certainly don’t embrace the view of the equality and brotherhood of man, do they? Did you see the looks on their faces?”

Theophilus slumped. “I did find that disconcerting. I pray I never come across that way.”

“Only when you try to pass me off as something other than what I am.”

Theophilus stood. “I’m embarrassed,” he said. “Forgive me for this clumsy effort.”

“I assume you meant well.”

“You do wish to marry one day, do you not?”

Luke shrugged. “Perhaps. But I expect my life will be hard, even when I am free. Medicine is no pursuit for someone who covets wealth, and any woman’s father will know that.”

“You will wa“Neither will be bearing any goods, and they carry no cash. If they are accosted, I doubt they’ll be in danger unless they do something foolish. If the new man is not here in due time, then we can worry.”

The time seemed right for Luke to express himself to Theophilus, but knowing the scroll he had written was in his pack somehow caused him to take the easy way out. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, as he had never had trouble communicating with Theophilus, at least not in years. When the master began yawning and mentioning the late hour, Luke asked if he could leave his written message with him.

“Certainly. What is it?”

“Just something I felt more comfortable putting in writing.”

“Not bad news, I hope.”

“Hardly.”

Luke fetched the scroll from his room and gave it to the master before retiring. He had just settled in when he heard a soft knock at his door. It was Theophilus, clearly moved. “Thank you, Luke,” he said, hurrying away.

Luke guessed it was about midnight when he heard voices outside and crept to the window. There stood Theophilus in a billowing dressing gown and with matted hair, speaking urgently to two aides and two slaves. “No word at all?”

“Nothing. We have no idea whether Diabolos made Daphne, was accosted, or has fled.”

“He had no reason to flee. I could have had him flogged for how he treated Luke, but I merely sent him back and told him to send a replacement.”

“Perhaps he feared what was to come,” an aide said.

“He’d better now,” Theophilus said.

“Now, sir, we don’t know that he is being willful. He could be in trouble.”

BOOK: Luke's Story

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