Rebecca.
Antony threw off the blanket and sat up in bed. He still hadn't answered her last letter, the long ultimatum. He dropped his head onto his hands and groaned.
Lord,
he asked silently,
how did things get so complicated?
Antony tried to pray coherently, but he was too weary and too worried. There had to be a resolution, some way to climb out of the quagmire that threatened to suck him under. This tribulation in Smyrna couldn't go on forever . . . could it?
Please, Lord, let it be over,
he pleaded as he finally drifted off to sleep.
Please let me go home.
FOR THE LONGEST TIME, Livia was speechless. She stared at the endless expanse of the brilliantly blue Aegean, searching for that almost-invisible seam where water met sky. Her husband had promised to take her to see the ocean, but he'd done better than that: on Saturday, two days after they arrived in Ephesus, Jacob took her out
on
the ocean.
He stood beside her on the deck of the
Mercury
. “Kaeso is going to bring her around and head back to the harbor now,” Jacob said. “Next time we'll take a real voyage, not a quick sail. Today I just wanted you to have a taste of life at sea.”
Livia nodded, and for a moment she watched the captain as he called orders to the skeleton crew, then she turned her attention back to her new fascination. She was enchanted and awedâand disappointed that their short excursion would soon be over.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to memorize the smell of the sea and the sound of the wind as the ship sliced through the water. Suddenly she leaned over the rail and stuck out her tongue, letting fine drops of ocean spray blow into her mouth.
“What are you doing?” Jacob asked.
“What you saidâgetting a taste of life at sea.” She licked her lips and grinned. “It's salty.”
“I already told you that,” he said with a laugh.
“And I just proved you right.”
Livia wiped her face and wordlessly studied the horizon again as the ship slowly changed course. “I feel so insignificant,” she finally said.
“Insignificant? Why?” Jacob asked.
“In comparison to the ocean, I mean. It's so immense, and I'm so small. Somehow that puts everything into perspective.” She pointed to the shoreline, now coming back into view. “It looks so tiny from here. A huge, sprawling city, but now it's just a speck on the horizon. Everything there seems so rushed, so important, so all-consuming . . . and out here, on the water, it all seems so inconsequential. I wonder . . .”
Jacob gazed at her with affection. “What do you wonder, my sweet philosopher?”
“I wonder if that's the way we appear to God. Not insignificant; we're made in His image. But all the things that worry us and loom so large in our mindsâdo they seem inconsequential from heaven's perspective?”
“I imagine they do,” Jacob said. “The ocean is not exactly like heaven, though. Close,” he added with a broad smile, “but not the same. When you're sailing, you eventually come back to shore, and you find that all the problems you left behind are still there waiting for you, still just as big.”
“But maybe you can bring a bit of that perspective back with you, so the worries don't overwhelm you when you're back on dry land.”
Jacob reached out and brushed a strand of hair off her face, tucking it securely behind her ear. “You're not still worried about what my family thinks, are you?”
“No, in just a couple of days they've managed to make me feel very welcome. I really like your family, Jacob.”
“Then what's worrying you now?”
“It's not worry, really. I'm just trying to get over being very, very mad at Gregory for keeping the truth from me all those years. I know I should be mad at my mother, but she's not here to yell at. So I did a lot of yelling at Gregory yesterday. I don't want to let go of that angerâwhat they did was wrong, pretending that Marcellus didn't exist, as if he had never been a part of my life.
“But it's hard to stay mad at my uncle. I'm worried that he's getting sick again. And he's the only family I have . . . except for Marcellus. Maybe he'll seem like family too someday, but not yet.”
“It will take time, but it will happen. He wants to be a part of your life now.”
Livia nodded. “I'm angry at him too, though. I can't help thinking, if he really loved me, why did he leave me?”
“Apparently Marcellus didn't have much choice. I'm sure he'll tell you about it if you ask him.”
“Oh, I intend to.”
Jacob paused a moment, then said, “You'll have plenty of time to talk to him the next couple of days, actually. I have to go to Smyrnaâ”
“We've only been here two days and you're leaving already? How far is Smyrna? Why can't I go with you?”
“One question at a time,” Jacob said, holding his hands toward her, palms out. “Smyrna is only a day's journey away, and I'm just going there and coming right back, so I wouldn't have any time to spend with you.”
“But I'd be with you on the way.” While Livia felt more comfortable with Jacob's family, she wasn't sure she wanted to be left alone with them just yet.
“There are a couple of reasons for the trip,” he said, ignoring Livia's whining. “One is to do something for my sister. I've barely seen Rebecca in the last two years, and she's having a hard time of it right now. Her fiancé has been gone for months, and she's not sure what's going on. I intend to find out. But the main reason I need to go to Smyrna is to apologize to Polycarp for the way I left.”
Jacob shook his head sadly and reached for her hand. “It seems I have a lot of relationships to restore. And I need to do that before we can truly start our life together here.”
“You won't be gone long?” Livia hated the idea of being separated from Jacob for even one night; they hadn't been apart since they'd been married. But she understood that his sudden departure last year had created a rift not only within his family but within the church.
“One night,” he promised, “two at the most. Then I'll be home. You'll barely know I've been gone.”
On Monday Antony decided to stay close to the house. Ever since he'd had the run-in with Damian on Friday, Antony had had the feeling that he was being followed. Yesterday Damian hadn't even bothered to be subtle about it; he'd trailed Antony through the public square and had even nodded and smiled.
Antony wasn't up to dealing with Damian's intimidation tactics today, and for once Antony had no appointments, no business that required his presence in town. So far Tarquinius had not been charged with a crime. And outside of that possibility, Antony had only one other case pending. A trial date had finally been set for the church member who had been falsely accused of theft. Just ten more days; Antony would be ready with his defense.
He was still concerned about Tullia interfering with the witnesses. It occurred to him that she might also try to bribe or threaten some of the approximately forty appointed
judices
who would hear the case and render judgment. There was little Antony could do about that except to be well prepared, argue the case brilliantly, and pray that he could persuade more of the
judices
than Tullia could sway.
The upcoming trial was easily crowded out of Antony's mind as he worried about Damian and Tullia's plot against Polycarp. Much as Antony had expected, the bishop had refused to leave town. Several of the church leaders were volunteering as watchmen, with one or more of them standing guard over Polycarp's house every night. Whether that would be enough to thwart a deranged arsonist, Antony didn't know. But as he was learning, with God all things were possible.
As had become his custom, Tarquinius arrived at an early hour, just as Antony was finishing breakfast. Today the innkeeper carried a large ax over his left shoulder and a short-handled hatchet in his right hand. He looked completely out of place as he stood there in the dining room, loaded down with cutting tools.
Bemused, Antony asked, “Are you planning to tear the house down before Damian can burn it?”
“No, sir,” Tarquinius replied stiffly, then realized Antony was joking with him. He grinned as he propped the implements against the wall of the dining room. “I thought I'd chop some firewood later.”
Tarquinius looked around, making sure no one could overhear him. “If you don't mind my saying so, I've noticed that the . . . uh . . .” He paused, searching for the right word and looking pleased when he remembered it. “The bishop and his followers don't pay much attention to practical things. Too busy with their religious duties, I guess. Not that that's a bad thing,” he added quickly. “I just don't understand much about it.”
“Until recently, I didn't either,” Antony said. “But I suppose that's why God sends people like you and me to help them take care of the practicalities of life.” He motioned for Tarquinius to have a seat. “So they can concentrate on spiritual matters.”
Tarquinius carefully sat on the edge of the sofa but did not recline. “Running an inn for all those years, well, all you have time to do is take care of details like supplies and cooking and cleaning. I couldn't help noticing this household won't have enough firewood to last through the winter if somebody doesn't take care of it now.” He paused and looked at Antony. His voice was quite serious as he asked, “Do you really think your God sent me to help Polycarp?”
Antony's reply was thoughtful as well. “Yes, I do. I can't explain it fully, but I believe you're supposed to be hereâjust as I am. And that it's part of God's plan, not just to help the bishop with mundane things like firewood and legal advice, but to protect his life so God can continue to use Polycarp to bless this cityâand the world beyond.”
Tarquinius reflected on that while Antony finished his breakfast.
When Antony rose from the table, Tarquinius quickly stood and said, “So, what should I do today? Stick with you, or stay here and watch out for the bishop?”
“I'm staying around here myself today,” Antony told him. “Laying in a supply of firewood is an excellent idea, but let's go for a walk first. I want to see what we can do to better protect the house.”
For the next hour, Antony and Tarquinius walked through the neighborhood, noting ways Damian might come in and out. The suburbs were not as crowded as the city proper, and the houses here were spaced a good distance apart. They were still close enough, however, that a major fire could be catastrophic for the whole neighborhood. Something else that concerned Antony was the house diagonally across from Polycarpâit was now vacant; the elderly man who lived there had died a few months ago. The empty house would make a good hiding place for someone who wanted to keep an eye on Polycarp.
Antony and Tarquinius were discussing whether to explore the other house when two men walked down the street. The men were dressed in hunting costumes, shorter-than-usual tunics with knee-length boots. As they approached, Antony recognized one of them.
“It's Damian,” he said softly. “Do you know the other man?”
“Never saw him before,” Tarquinius replied.
Antony wasn't surprised by Damian's appearance in the neighborhood, but the object Damian carried did come as a surprise. It was a military bowâthe same weapon used by the archers of Rome's legions. The other man was similarly armed.
When Damian passed by, he raised his bow in a salute and called out, “Great day for target practice. The best season for hunting is just ahead.” Damian's voice was loud and cheerful, and it was the kind of greeting one neighbor might call to another. Nothing threatening, nothing illegal, but disturbing nonetheless.
“Something tells me he's not stalking white-tailed deer,” Tarquinius muttered when the pair had rounded the curve in the road.
“Be extra careful when you go out to chop wood later,” Antony advised.
They walked around the perimeter of Polycarp's house. Like the other dwellings in the neighborhood, the modest one-story house was set back from the road. The only entrance to the home was through a walled, rectangular courtyard that opened to the street on one side and the atrium, or central room of the house, on the other side.
The rooms along each side of the house had windows with wooden shutters. There was barely room to walk behind the house; it backed up to a fairly steep ravine.
“No one is likely to approach the house this way,” Tarquinius said. “Those brambles would cut you pretty bad.”
Antony agreed. “I'll make sure all the windows stay closed, so it's mainly the front entrance we have to worry about.”
They went back inside, and after fetching his tools, Tarquinius left. All afternoon Antony puzzled over when and how Damian would strike. He might watch the house for days, Antony realized, waiting for them to let down their guard, before trying anything. Damian wanted to instill fear, so he would play a waiting game.
When Tarquinius returned later with a cart filled with his labors, Antony helped stack the firewood behind the house. The physical exertion worked his muscles but allowed his mind to relax.
By the time they finished, Antony was feeling much calmer, and he enjoyed an early dinner with Polycarp and two of his students. Tarquinius joined them, and although he didn't say much, he appeared to enjoy their conversation, which was mostly a discussion of Scripture.
Afterward, Tarquinius told the bishop that he had brought a bedroll and planned on spending the next few nights in the front courtyard, if that was all right.
“You'd be a welcome guest,” Polycarp said, “but there's no need to sleep outside. We'll make a place for you in one of the back rooms.”
Over the years the house had been enlarged by tacking additional rooms onto the back, so the house was much larger than it looked from the front. The extra rooms were used as classrooms and bedrooms for the frequent guestsâmostly pastors or deacons from other churches, who came seeking counsel, or young apprentices whose parents wanted them to receive doctrinal instruction from the respected young bishop.