“Why not?”
She couldn't bear the look in his eyes. This was so cruel, so unfair, both for him and for her.
Why
did it have to be this way? But it did, even though he loved her, and she loved him. She knew that now; she was in love with him. But she could not be unequally yoked, and that's what marriage with Antony would be.
Rebecca took a deep breath. “Because you're not a Christian,” she said. “So in spite of the fact that I . . . have feelings for you, I can't marry you . . . Please don't ask me again, Antony.”
He stared at her for the longest time, and she watched a silent display of emotional fireworks cross his face: longing, hurt, rejection, anger. Finally, he said, “Very well, I won't ask again.”
When he turned and left, she dropped her head to her hands. She'd made the right decision, she reminded herself as the tears started to fall. But wasn't there supposed to be joy in following God's will?
January, A.D. 97
ON THE FIRST SUNDAY OF THE NEW YEAR, Rebecca sat on a cushion on the dining-room floor while John addressed the church that met at the villa. It was too cold to meet outdoors in the peristyle garden, so they had rearranged the
triclinia
in the dining room to accommodate the worshipers. Word had spread that the Apostle had returned to Ephesus, so the service was well attended in spite of the bitter weather and the early-morning hour before the workday began.
“I bring you greetings from your sister churches in Asia,” John said. “They gladly heard the word of the Lord, which I received on Patmos.” John gestured toward Rebecca. “And thanks to the assistance of my faithful scribe, each congregation now has a scroll containing the full Revelation.”
It pleased Rebecca to be recognized for her contribution, but she was not pleased to see that John was weaker after the six-week trip. He seemed to be more stooped than ever, and he had developed a tremor. His voice was not as strong as it had been, and sometimes it faded out in midsyllable. She noticed he tried to compensate by speaking more loudly than usual.
“Each of the churches has suffered during the recent persecution,” John reported, “although none as much as the church here in Ephesus.” One by one, he named the pastors of the other churches, beginning with Polycarp, and said a few words about the struggles of each congregation as well as the victories they had experienced. “The kingdom of God is being advanced through our adversity, and I give praise and glory to Jesus Christ, our risen Lord, with whom I walked the shores of Galilee, and whom I have served with joy and great gladness for close to seven decades.”
Although spoken in a weakened voice, John's words still carried the imprint of apostolic authority. He began to describe the office of pastor, “the one who stands as a representative of the Great Shepherd before His sheep,” and then called for Theodorus to come forward. A long-time elder in the church, Theodorus was on the short side but still quite muscular for a man approaching forty. He had the appearance of an athlete, not a scholar, yet he was both. Before becoming a Christian, Theodorus had won prizes for both boxing and Latin poetry when Domitian, early in his reign, had introduced Greek-style games to the Empire. The Roman populace, however, was enthralled with chariot races and the gladiatorial events at the magnificent new Colosseum. The more serious athletic and cultural events of the emperor's Greek-style games had never managed to rival the blood sport of the arena in popularity.
As Theodorus moved to take his place beside John, Rebecca looked at the congregation around her. She noticed Agatha blushing when Quintus looked her way. He smiled and then looked off.
Galen was not there this morning, Rebecca saw, and she couldn't help being glad for that. She'd felt sorry for Galen after she had rejected his attempt at reconciliation, but the following Sunday he had done something that had infuriated her. During the worship service, he had given out an emphatic message in tongues. Rebecca had felt uneasy during the message; she sensed something wasn't quite right. Immediately afterward Galen gave the interpretation, and it was full of admonitions to “shun the very appearance of evil.” He rambled on, saying that righteousness has no part with unrighteousness, and that believers were not to be unequally yoked with unbelievers. Everything he had said was true and it all sounded very spiritual. Yet Rebecca knew that Galen had intended the public message to be a private warning to her.
Evidently Theodorus, who had been in charge of the service, had sensed something inappropriate as well. Rebecca saw him speaking sternly to Galen afterward, and since then, Galen had not uttered a word in church.
Rebecca refocused her attention on John as the elders of the church also came forward and joined him in laying hands on Theodorus. John anointed him with oil and prayed a prayer of dedication over Theodorus as the new pastor of the church. The elders had all taken turns serving in that capacity since John had first been banished to Devil's Island, and now he was elevating Theodorus to the position on a permanent basis.
After John dismissed the congregation, he stood and greeted the members as they filed out to leave. Marcellus stayed by his side, looking concerned and trying to get the Apostle to sit down. But John thrived on being with the people of God, and as long as anyone stayed to talk, he would not ignore them.
Finally, when everyone had left, Marcellus and Rebecca helped John to the library. Peter was coughing and felt terrible, so he excused himself and went to his room to rest before lunch. Rebecca fetched a blanket for John, who stretched out on the long settee for a nap.
Rebecca expected John to go right to sleep; he looked exhausted. Instead he said, “This was a disappointing day for me, and for the church.”
“Why is that?” Rebecca asked. “I would think you would be happy to know the church has been blessed with strong leadership. Theodorus is a good man, very solid.”
“Aye,” John said, “he is. Solid of build and solid of mind. Theodorus teaches sound doctrine, and he'll do right by the people.” He raised up on one bony elbow and looked at Rebecca. “But I had hoped to anoint your brother as pastor of this congregation someday. Instead . . .” John paused as his voice faded momentarily, then he continued, “Jacob walked away from the call of God to pursue a fool's errand. Now I don't even know if I'll live long enough to see him again. That boy is a bitter disappointment.”
John lay back down on the settee and was asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes. Rebecca and Marcellus conversed softly while the disappointed preacher dozed.
“He's not doing well,” Marcellus told Rebecca.
“I noticed the tremor,” she said.
“And his eyesight has dimmed. You can see the cloudiness if you look closely.”
“That explains why I thought he might be having trouble recognizing people this morning. He usually greets the church members as âdear brother' or âdear sister' if he can't recall someone's name right away, but today he kept saying, âIt's so good to see you, dear child of God.'”
Marcellus grinned. “John is so good at compensating for his physical limitations that few people notice the extent of his frailty.”
“I wish we could get him to move in with us,” Rebecca said. “I worry about him so much.”
“He needs the independence of living in his own house; he just doesn't need to be alone. I've lined up someone to stay with him at all times . . .”
“So, will you be leaving us, now that you've helped John deliver the letters to the churches?” Rebecca knew that Marcellus had never planned to stay long-term. His return to Ephesus with them had always been a temporary thing, a transition from his many years of military service into civilian life, and a favor to the man who had led him to the Lord.
“I had intended to,” Marcellus said. “Now I'm not sure what God would have me do. I want so much to try and find my daughter, but I can't help thinking that perhaps I'm supposed to stay with John. His spirit is still so strong, but his body is wearing out. He could live several more years, or he could be gone in a matter of months. Weeks, maybe.”
The thought of losing John sobered Rebecca, but so did the prospect of Marcellus's departure. John had always been a fixture in her life, and for almost a year the Apostle and the medical officer had been the only people she had seen. She would miss Marcellus terribly when he left; selfishly, she wished he wouldn't. After a long pause she asked, “Do you know where your daughter is?”
“When she was born,” he said, “I was stationed almost at the eastern edge of the Empire. My wife's family was from that area, so that's where I would start looking. Even if my wife and daughter are not there anymore, surely there would be some relatives who would know what happened to them.”
Marcellus talked about his daughter for a few minutes, then he said, “I still have a few weeks to decide what to do. The winters in the East are severe, so I couldn't begin to travel until it warms up. I'll see how John is faring when spring arrives.”
He turned the conversation toward Rebecca. She hadn't intended to say anything about it, but she found herself talking about Galen's attempt to get back together and Antony's proposal, which had occurred the same evening. Marcellus listened with keen interest, offering a reassuring word now and then as she told him what had transpired. It was like talking to her father, Rebecca thought, and she felt better when she had poured her heart out.
“I just want so much to do the right thing,” she said. “But it's so difficult. Antony is a good person even though he's not a believer. Sometimes I wonder, would it really be so bad to marry him? His mother's a good Christian . . .”
Marcellus reached over and gave her hand a paternal squeeze. “I can't tell you what to do, Rebeccaâ”
“I can.” The voice coming from the settee was surprisingly strong. John grumbled as he struggled to sit up. There were no arms on the settee for him to grasp, so Marcellus quickly moved to help him.
“We thought you were sleeping,” Rebecca said.
“I was,” the Apostle replied with a wan smile when he was upright again. “But I sleep lightly. And the Spirit always seems to wake me when I need to hear something important.”
John's eyes were indeed cloudy now, Rebecca noticed, yet they still possessed a liveliness that belied his advanced age. “So what should I do?” she asked.
Without hesitation John said, “Be faithful to God. He has someone for you, Rebeccaâa godly man. You must be patient and let God work.”
Rebecca pondered the Apostle's words while he turned to address Marcellus. She wanted to believe that what John said was true, that God did have someone special for her. At the moment she couldn't get beyond the thought that she wanted that someone to be Antony, and she was afraid God might have other plans. How long would she have to be patient?
“God has something special in store for you too,” John told Marcellus. “He will reward your faithful service to this most ancient servant of Hisâmeâby bringing your daughter back. You will not have to search far and wide to find her.
She
will come to
you
.”
He said it with such emphasis that Rebecca wondered if the statement were actually a prophecy. She hoped so. That would mean Marcellus would not have to leave her, or John. And that would please her immensely.
Even if the utterance
had
been prophetic, John's spiritual statement quickly turned into a physical complaint. “Surely that cook has had time to prepare lunch by now,” John said. “Why doesn't somebody go find out?”
Rebecca rose, suppressing a laugh. “I'll see what the delay is,” she said. There was no delay, of course. It was barely past midmorning. But John was always hungry when he woke up from a nap, and she would see to it that he got something to eat now.
As she left the library Rebecca heard John mumbling, “The wealthiest home in town, but an old person could starve to death around here.”
LIVIA STOPPED HAMMERING the thin sheet of copper and glared at Jacob. “You're doing it
again!”
“What?” He stepped back, startled.
“Standing in my light.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned back over the workbench, which was positioned to take advantage of the morning light streaming through the window carved into the tufa.
“I'm sorry,” he said, moving away. “I got caught up watching you work.”
Every morning for the past six weeks the stranger her uncle had taken in had visited her workshop. Most of the time Livia didn't mind, as long as he kept quiet and didn't get in her way. Sometimes she even put him to work; yesterday he had ground cakes of enamel into fine powder with a pestle and mortar while she dipped thin sheets of metal into an acid-and-water bath. When they dried, the metal sheets would be ready for the application of the colored enamel paste. Jacob had saved her a half-day's work by pulverizing the hard enamel.
Today, however, Jacob's presence irritated Livia. She wasn't sure why, and she didn't want to stop to puzzle through it. She just wanted to work. “Go bother Gregory for a while,” she snapped.
Jacob folded his arms across his chest. “Gregory has gone into town,” he said stubbornly.
“Then why don't you go chase that evil man you're after and leave me alone?” She knew
that
would make Jacob mad. They'd had many discussions about his “mission,” as he called it; when Jacob wasn't loitering around her workshop, he was in Caesarea scouting around the army post for any sign of Damian. So far Jacob had been unsuccessful at gaining entrance to the campâhe had no legitimate business to conduct thereâand he had never seen Damian leave the premises, even though Jacob had managed to verify that the tribune was indeed there.
Livia knew a couple of people with access to the post, but she wasn't going to tell Jacob. Even after Gregory's prophecy, Jacob had not given up pursuing his enemy; she wanted no part of it, however.