Man of God (2 page)

They had both learned a great many things
during those years in Jerusalem.

He began to be impatient as he made his way
through the clots of people—those who were moving, the ones who
stopped to chat, those who were looking around as if either lost,
or overawed by the great marble and stone buildings. Ostia was more
like an annex to Rome than a separate city; she was Rome’s port,
where vessels from the sea sailed onto the Tiber, unloaded their
merchandise and sent it on barges upriver toward the smaller docks
at Rome, some sixteen miles to the north. Among many other imports,
the ships brought in grain, wine, oil and wheat…thus, the larger
part of Rome’s food storage, and the agents who controlled it, were
located here.

He turned off the main street and went down
another that ran parallel to the river, seeking the shade and
coolness offered by the trees lining its bank. He arrived finally
at the docks, passing warehouses with sloping ramps, slaves and
pack animals, the tables of the customs officers, agents inspecting
merchandise for their employers, workers loading barges, clerks
making payments to crews.

He wondered how long he would have to wait.
He was reasonably certain the ship carrying his wife and daughter
would arrive within an hour or two; he still had connections to
people who knew such things. The ship, with its distinguishing
characteristic of a bull’s head carved into its bow, had been
sighted yesterday sailing near the coastline, by one of the
lighthouses. Before they left Joppa, Alysia had written him a
description of the ship, and the letter had gone its usual
clandestine way, to the house of his mother and into the hands of
Omari, a household slave…who had dispatched a trusted messenger to
him. After receiving word yesterday of the ship’s proximity, Paulus
had estimated the time of arrival and hoped he wouldn’t be too far
off.

Ah, there it was…he could see it, still far
out in the glistening water, but making good progress. The square
sails flapped in the breeze and he felt a wave of jubilation… at
last! He hadn’t realized how desperate he was to see them. He paced
back and forth, ignoring the benches where others sat waiting the
arrival of passengers.

They’d been gone for months—since the middle
of April. Someone that Alysia had known in Bethany had died, and
she had wanted to go and visit the family. He’d finally given in,
and Rachel wanted to go with her. It wasn’t a good time for Paulus
to go, for he was teaching new converts who were about to embark on
journeys spreading the word of God. His friend and former slave,
Simon—who lived in Rome near his two young sons and their wives—had
consented to go with them, for protection.

The moment they’d left Paulus was filled with
consternation; he must have been insane to let them go! So many
years had gone by he’d grown lax in his watchfulness, and after
what had happened on their last sea voyage…he shook off a memory
too painful to contemplate just now. By God’s grace they were
coming safely home, and he tried to shake off, too, that tiny but
insistent feeling that something was about to go wrong.

* * *

Alysia clutched at the rail as the ship
slipped into its mooring, resisting the urge to wave as hard as she
could. She would know him anywhere, even if the hood did cover half
his smiling face…She laughed with sheer joy and beside her Rachel
laughed too, and clasped her hand. Behind them, their good friend
Simon chuckled deeply.

“From the looks of him he’s missed the two of
you—a little,” he said, steadying Rachel as the ship jostled
against the dock. They began to gather up their belongings, as did
the hundred or so others who had obtained passage on this merchant
ship, sharing with each other small spaces on the wooden deck. The
crew hastened to obey the captain’s orders, letting down the plank
to allow departure from the ship, and everyone surged toward it. A
bronze statue of Neptune stood on the bow…to bid them farewell.

At last they were on the landing. Paulus came
toward them swiftly, giving Alysia a short embrace, but a long look
that made her feel as though she’d been thoroughly kissed. She felt
the warmth on her face as he picked up Rachel and held her
close.

“And how was your eighth birthday,
darling—not very good at sea, was it? I’m sorry I missed it.”

“We missed
you
!”

“We’ll have a real celebration now that
you’re home. Simon, I thank God for you!”

“It was a fine journey, Paulus. No—problems.
I’m glad I was able to go. I stayed with Stephen’s family.”

A little of the gladness faded in Paulus’
eyes at the mention of Stephen, but he kissed Rachel and put her
down, and took some of the baggage from Simon. “We’ll have to walk
to the north side of town,” he said. “I’ve hired a coach to take us
to Rome.”

“May we get something to eat, Father?” Rachel
asked. She was a quiet child but a usually happy one, having been
impressed throughout her life by the need for quietness. She had
Alysia’s slenderness and delicate features, and Paulus’ coloring,
with dark blonde hair and eyes somewhere between blue and green. As
a baby she had strongly resembled Paulus’s sister, Selena, but that
resemblance faded as she grew older.

“Of course we can. Let’s wait until we get
closer to the forum, shall we?”

They set out walking along the well-paved,
main street. The jostling crowd had become only slightly less dense
in this late hour of the day. Leading the way, Paulus maneuvered
through a busy intersection, passing temples and shrines, fine
houses, multi-storied basilicas, baths, shops selling all manner of
goods…and a large number of taverns. Finally they stopped at a
large, open building where a man stood behind a stone counter,
dealing with several patrons lined up before him.

“Cheese and wine, bread and fruit,” Simon
said, reading the sign. “I think I’ll have two of each.”

“Water for Rachel and me, and everything
else,” Alysia said with a laugh. “I’m starving, too.”

Paulus purchased the food, and they found a
bench under the shade of a wooden trellis. Alysia and Paulus
couldn’t stop looking at each other, to Simon’s amusement, but he
said nothing because Rachel was there. He could tease them in
private later. He’d never known two people so closely bonded… He
knew, from having witnessed it, that their early relationship had
been tempestuous, fraught with conflict, then for years they’d been
kept apart for one reason or another, until they finally married.
Now they were inseparable…except, of course, for this journey to
Palestine…the first time they’d been parted since their marriage,
seven years ago.

Simon envied them—in a good way. As soon as
Paulus had given him his freedom, he’d gone back to his former home
in Cyrene only to find that his wife had believed him dead and
married another man, and his sons didn’t even recognize him. That
had been remedied, in time…after going to his wife and asking her
to make a choice, he’d eventually earned the love and trust of his
two sons, Alexander and Rufus. Not only had they accepted him as
their father, but they’d listened to his words about Jesus of
Nazareth and had become believers. Now they were grown and married,
and all of them had recently moved to Rome.

Simon’s wife, however, had chosen to remain
with her second husband. Yes, he couldn’t help wishing for himself
what Paulus and Alysia shared, but they had earned it…

They finished their quick meal and walked to
the edge of town where the rented coach, attached to two horses,
stood waiting. It was a fine vehicle, made of wood with a canopied
top and open windows, with curtains to draw for privacy.

Simon looked at him thoughtfully. “I suppose
you intend that I should drive this contraption?”

Paulus grinned as he began setting the
baggage inside. “If you don’t mind…I did drive it down from Rome
and it’s fairly easy to handle. I was sure you’d be itching for
something to do besides sit still.”

“And it could be that you wanted to ride
inside…with certain people.”

Paulus’ gaze boldly met Alysia’s. “Could
be.”

Simon restrained his own grin and stepped
into the small driver’s seat. Paulus helped Alysia and Rachel climb
over the low side, and they all settled onto the cushioned seats. A
large pallet had been laid across the floor with Rachel in mind,
for the journey would take several hours.

The guards glanced disinterestedly at the
carriage and gestured for it to keep moving. It rolled through the
gate, passing the tombs, monuments and statues that flanked every
road leading to and from a city, since burials could not take place
within their boundaries. Paulus removed the hooded robe that
covered his dark brown tunic, tossing it into a corner. Rachel
immediately jumped out of her seat and into his lap, wrapping her
arms around his neck.

“I like Bethany,” she said, her head tucked
comfortably against his chest. “I didn’t remember much about it. I
wish we could live there someday.”

“Perhaps we can,” Paulus answered, his own
arms tight around her. “Someday, when our work here is
finished.”

“But how can it ever be finished, when there
are so many in Rome who need to hear the truth?”

Over her head, Paulus noted the wistful
expression on Alysia’s face. After a pause he said, “We’re not the
only ones spreading the word, Rachel. There are many others. In
fact, I believe God
will
send some someone else to Rome…a
man, or men, who can do far greater things than we can. Our need
for secrecy limits what we can do. You understand, don’t you?”

“You mean because the soldiers are looking
for you and Mother. But the sibyl said—”

“Rachel,” he said sternly. “You were not to
remember the sibyl. Her power comes from Satan, and whatever truth
she tells is often mixed with lies.”

“Yes, I know. I don’t think I’ll ever be able
to forget that day! But I won’t speak of it.”

He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “As I
was saying, God will let us know when it’s time to leave. But until
then we must be patient.”

Alysia watched them, smiling, content to be
near her husband and to know that soon, sometime tonight, they
would be alone together. The coach rocked pleasantly, and she
pushed back in her corner, letting herself relax and grow drowsy.
She could see through the small windows on each side that they’d
left Ostia behind them…still, traffic was heavy on the road to
Rome.

The road to Rome, she thought. Little did
they know, when they left Jerusalem, how long a road it would be!
They’d only been in that city for a little over a year now. The
remaining six years had been spent traveling from town to town, and
village to village, stopping where God led them, staying a week, a
month, six months, until they felt it was time to move on. And
everywhere they went they told what they knew of Jesus of Nazareth,
a man they’d both known, a man they both
knew
to be the Son
of God. There were times they’d been driven into hiding, but even
then they chose to share what they knew, and many had believed.

Her mind went back to that extraordinary day
when they’d encountered the prophetess, one of those called sibyls,
who lived in the area surrounding Smyrna in the province of Asia.
These women, highly renowned, often traveled from place to place
and prophesied at various shrines and temples. Smyrna was a
beautiful and prosperous city, in spite of having been ravaged by
earthquakes and fires…it had always been rebuilt on a scale even
grander than before.

It was, of course, only one of many stopping
places for them. After leaving Jerusalem years before, they had
tarried in Capernaum to visit their friend John, who had been one
of Jesus’ first followers. It had been John who presided over their
marriage, standing with them under a canopy while Paulus pledged
his devotion and told how he would provide for his wife. And it had
been John who had given them the thing that had somehow made itself
known to the sibyl.

“I’ve prayed about this,” John said
earnestly, as they were preparing to leave. “We’ve all prayed about
it. We want you to take this to Rome. There will be hiding places
there too numerous to count, and you can let us know where you
place it. But only a few must know.”

He handed Paulus a leather satchel with a
long strap that could be worn across one’s back. Paulus looked at
him curiously. “What is inside?”

The disciple answered simply, “His
shroud.”

Paulus’ hands involuntarily tightened on the
satchel. He had exchanged a long look with Alysia.

“I cannot be responsible for this, John. Both
of us are fugitives—it will not be safe with us.”

“God’s ways are not our ways,” John replied.
“You must see our dilemma. This shroud is in danger here, not only
of being snatched or stolen by Jesus’ enemies, should they ever
learn of its whereabouts, but also of being venerated and worshiped
by those very ones who believe in him. That must not happen! And
yet we cannot bring ourselves to destroy it.”

Paulus and Alysia remained silent. She
remembered thinking that she agreed with Paulus; the linen cloth in
which Jesus had been buried was too precious to be entrusted to
them.

“Have you seen it?” John asked quietly.

“No,” Paulus answered. “But I’ve heard.”

“When I entered the tomb that day, the cloth
that had covered his head had been folded and set aside. This
shroud was lying there, empty, undisturbed. The strips were still
tied around it where the feet were, and the middle section of his
body. It was as though his body had—passed completely through it.
That’s what convinced me, even before I saw him.”

Paulus had lowered his head for a moment, and
then looked up. “What makes you think it should go to Rome?”

“A place was not revealed to us, Paulus—only
a man. That man is you. And you are going to Rome. It seems
reasonable to hide it there. Rome has always been tolerant of
so-called relics. If God wants it elsewhere, he will let us know.
But it needs to leave Palestine. Caiaphas and his priests would
tear it to pieces, or burn it. Once you have established who the
believers are in Rome, I suggest you give it to a family of faith,
a family not associated with anyone here in Palestine, who would
have ways and means of protecting it.”