Man of God (20 page)

“Jewish beliefs!” Timaeus exclaimed. “Jewish
writings!”

“Admittedly, you must accept them as God’s
word, if you are to believe in Jesus. But how then, do you explain
the obvious fulfillment of its prophecies? And God’s promise to
redeem mankind goes back to the beginning of time, to the Garden of
Eden. I challenge you to read and search them…it is written that
you
will
find God, if you seek him with all your heart.”

Alexandros said quietly, “Again, you have
told us some very interesting things, Antonius. But you have
provided no real evidence to support your claims.”

“That’s because it is a matter of faith,
Alexandros. But if I might say one thing more. Not here—yet—but in
some places men and women are being imprisoned, tortured and killed
for their belief in Jesus Christ. To me, that is a very strong
argument for his case.”

“Why?” Sophus asked. “Men both noble and
ignoble have died for this cause or that one. They will even take
their own lives, to preserve their honor—we see this every day in
Rome!”

Paulus met his eyes. “As someone once said to
me…men might die for a cause, but how quickly would they give up
their life for a man they know to be dead? Why should his disciples
keep preaching about him, if there is any chance the resurrection
did not occur? Does that not say to you that they are convinced of
it?”

After a pause, Alexandros confessed, “That is
something to think about. Almost you persuade me, Antonius!” He
walked toward Paulus. “I want to thank you for what you have told
this gathering. We are happy for our friend Nikanor, and his
family. I do believe that you healed him—by whatever means. Perhaps
you were able to do it by virtue of your own enlightenment.”

“Ascribe nothing to me, Alexandros—it was the
power of God. But I caution you—not all miracles are of God. I told
you of God’s enemy, Satan, and he is powerful. He is a created
being and not a god, but he is sometimes able to imitate, in some
way, the works of God.”

“Why would your God allow him to do this?”
Sophus asked.

“Because,” Paulus answered, “if men wish hard
enough to be deceived, God will let them be.”

Sophus’ tone held a bit of sarcasm. “And why
should men
wish
to be deceived?”

“Some are drawn to beliefs that build up
their own egos, satisfy their pride. They don’t want to know the
truth.”

“And I see that we are back to the
beginning,” said Alexandros. “What is truth, you asked. You
proceeded to tell us your own perception of truth. It is for us to
consider your arguments, and weigh the evidence.”

Paulus had risen to his feet, and bowed
slightly. “I could ask for nothing more.”

A woman stood up and cried, “I believe! Tell
me how to be saved!”

She, followed by another woman and three men,
came forward and stood by him. He explained and prayed with them;
the men under the trees seemed embarrassed by the display…and when
he looked again they had gone. He was disappointed that Nikanor had
not stayed, at least to question him further. Still, he was both
humbled and glad at the coming of these five.

He also explained to them the meaning of
baptism, and how it symbolized, among other things, the burial of
their old life, and the rising to a new one. “There is a lake
nearby,” said one of the men, and they all consented to go there at
once. As they were setting out, a man who had been standing off to
the side reached out and touched his arm. It was Timaeus, the
lawyer.

“Antonius, the hour grows late, and I would
speak with you further. When you have finished with these—good
people—I invite you to dine with me. My farm is on the road you see
before you, half a mile from here. Will you come?”

Paulus hesitated. It would make him very late
getting back to the villa, but he didn’t see how he could refuse.
“Thank you, Timaeus. I’ll be there before the sun goes down.”

Having been ordained by Jesus’ inner group of
disciples, Paulus had baptized many people over the years, but
there was something memorable about this time…the two women and
three men, none of whom knew each other, were happy and full of
questions, and they sat on the bank and talked with him for a long
time…while the sun lowered and the bleating of sheep came from a
nearby meadow. He told them what he thought they were ready to
learn, and gave them the names of people he knew in Rome who could
loan them copies of the Hebrew Scriptures. Most lived in the
neighboring area, and he had an troubled feeling of leaving them
adrift…always before he had stayed in a place long enough to teach
and help new converts before moving on.

However, they promised to all come together
to worship, and to bring their families. He knew God would provide
a leader—he had never failed to do so.

At last they went their separate ways, and
Paulus set out for Timaeus’ house. He stopped at the marketplace
first; the crowd had thinned and the shops were beginning to close,
but he bought a few slices of bread topped with melted cheese, and
drank from the fountain. The sun was almost behind the mountains
when he came upon, not a farm, but a villa even more luxurious than
the one owned by Horatius. He saw a slave working among some
shrubbery and asked, “Is this the house of Timaeus?”

“Yes, sir. May I tell him you are here?”

“Yes—the name is Antonius.”

The slave hurried away, and soon another one
had come to escort him inside. Timaeus came to greet him, in finer
clothes than before.

“I am glad you could come, Antonius. The
dining room is this way…I hope you don’t mind if we sit at the
table, rather than recline? You…and a woman friend of mine, will be
my only guests tonight.”

“I prefer sitting, Timaeus. I haven’t dined
the Roman way in so long I wouldn’t know how. And what happened to
that quaint little farmhouse I was supposed to be looking for?”

The man laughed as they walked into a vast
dining room; the large table had three plates set around one
corner. The room was filled with gold-inlaid furniture, thickly
padded couches and chairs, statues—mostly nude—plants, and
birdcages, from which came the trills and flutterings of their
occupants. Large pillars stood throughout the room, painted to
match the colored panels in the walls. The sound of slaves
scurrying back and forth came from the corridor, and soft music
floated from behind a bamboo screen.

An attractive, blonde-haired woman, dressed
in a lavish and revealing gown, soon joined them. “This is Vita,”
Timaeus said, without further explanation. “Vita, may I introduce
Antonius, the man I was telling you about?”

The woman greeted him, eyeing him with
considerable interest. Slaves began bringing in trays and platters
of rich foods, and pitchers of a deep red wine. Paulus had to
refuse constant offers of refilling his cup—and tried not to
partake too liberally of the food, even though he was ravenously
hungry. A huge side of pork, raw clams and salted snails,
vegetables flavored with oil and vinegar, and wheat cakes topped
with honey—fortunately the meat wasn’t much to his liking.

They talked casually for a time, and when a
lull fell, Paulus said, “You mentioned that you wanted to speak
with me about something, Timaeus.”

“In good time, Antonius—have more wine—well,
there’s the water if you insist. Music, Faustus!”

The music increased in volume and tempo, and
three scantily clad dancing girls swirled sensuously into the room.
Paulus began to perceive he had been brought to the villa under
false pretenses, and noticed that Vita was watching his face
keenly.

He got to his feet, saying over the music,
“If you will excuse me, I’ll wait to speak with you in the
corridor, Timaeus.”

“Oh—forgive me. Faustus!” The music stopped
abruptly, and the swishing girls stopped to stare at Timaeus. He
waved a hand at them; they glanced at each other, and with looks of
baffled indignation, left the room.

“I am sorry, Antonius,” the lawyer said, as
Paulus reluctantly resumed his seat. “I didn’t consider that
perhaps you were not used to such—temptations.”

Actually, Paulus felt rather swamped by them
lately, but he said, “Never mind—I have a long walk home and must
ask you again what you wanted to discuss with me, Timaeus.”

The man took a moment to pick at his teeth
with a napkin, while Vita sipped from her cup and watched Paulus
from beneath her lashes.

“I have been thinking about things you said
today,” Timaeus said. “You spoke most eloquently of this man’s
crucifixion. I saw tears in your eyes.”

There was a long hesitation, and Paulus said,
“I was there.”

Timaeus leaned forward. “How can you have so
much love, Antonius, for a Jew?”

Paulus surveyed him in silence, recognizing a
familiar hostility. He restrained a flare of anger. “God chose a
man named Abraham to be the progenitor of a race that would bring
his son into the world. Because of this, they are his chosen
people. But they have rejected God’s son, and the furtherance of
his kingdom has been given to the Gentiles. But in spite of this,
they will always be his chosen people—because he made a covenant
with them.”

“What do you mean by ‘chosen people’?”

Paulus went on patiently. “As I said, it was
through the Jews that the Savior was brought into the world. They
are under God’s protection—they will never be destroyed. All the
same, they will be judged for rejecting the Messiah. Yet only God
has the right to judge them—no one else.”

It was obvious Timaeus didn’t like what
Paulus was saying, for he was neither smiling nor affable now. He
changed the subject. “What if I were to tell you, Antonius, that I
believe this life is all there is? And if that is so, why should I
not partake of all the pleasure I can, and enjoy it as long as I
can?”

“But—what if—this life is not all there
is?”

“A question I choose not to consider!”

“Your choosing not to consider it, Timaeus,
does not negate its possibility.”

“I don’t need religion!”

“No,” Paulus agreed. “Religion crucified
him.”

Timaeus almost sneered. “I suppose you
consider yourself a better man than I—above it all—because you deny
yourself pleasure, and seek to follow the teachings of some dead
Jew!”

“It is a living man I follow…a living God. I
find much pleasure in life, Timaeus, and he asks us to give up only
those things that would harm us…in body or spirit. And what do I
consider myself? A sinner. Saved by grace.”

They had not much to say to each other after
that. Paulus said he must leave; Vita invited him to stay the
night. He politely refused. Timaeus once more took on a face of
amiability and offered the use of his carriage, but the moon was
bright and Paulus preferred to walk. He bade his host and hostess
goodnight, feeling a strange combination of annoyance and
regret.

It wasn’t the first time he had faced
hostility and prejudice, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. It
was always hard for him not to be angry; it made him marvel again
at the self-control Jesus had shown during his trial, when
everything done to him had been cruel and unjust.

He increased his pace, knowing that Alysia
would be waiting, perhaps wondering if he’d been recognized and
carted off somewhere. The moon shone brightly on the road and the
rocks that lined it; he passed through the deserted marketplace and
entered the road to Horatius’ villa. It was darker here, due to the
trees, and he kept hearing sounds, almost like stealthy
footsteps…but every time he turned he saw nothing.

It wasn’t like him to imagine things. He
hadn’t carried a weapon in years, and still hadn’t grown used to
not at least having a knife in his belt. Robbers were everywhere,
not just in the cities. Or it could be an animal—a fox, or even a
wolf. Again he turned and saw nothing, and decided it must be the
breeze stirring the branches above him.

He reached the villa at last, and Alysia was
waiting for him.

CHAPTER XV

Something woke Paulus; he slid out of bed and
for some reason put on his clothes before walking to the long
window where the shutters had already been pushed back. He could
see only the pond from here, but there was a glow upon it that
shouldn’t be there, and he smelled smoke. The sound of men’s voices
seemed far away, but full of an unnatural excitement.

“Wake up, Alysia—there’s a fire somewhere,”
he said, and ran from the room, his steps ringing swiftly down the
long corridor. He burst through the door at the end, and saw flames
licking hungrily at the wooden door and rafters of the stable. Men
and women slaves had gathered before it, some holding buckets, and
a man came out leading two of the horses. A cacophony of frenzied
neighing and stomping came from within the stalls.

Paulus ran toward the stable manager, who
seemed panic stricken and at a loss as to what to do. “Get as many
buckets as you can find!” he shouted over the din. “Form a line
from the pond to the fire—fill the buckets and pass them from
person to person. Keep watch over the line and make sure the
buckets are moving as fast as they can be moved.”

The man nodded and ran toward a small storage
shed. Alysia and Rachel ran toward Paulus, and joined the “bucket”
line as he directed. He, too, raced to the shed, calling for others
to follow him. In a moment the men emerged with blankets; they
hurried to the pond, doused the blankets in water, and after
throwing them around their heads and bodies, entered the stable to
release the rest of the horses.

Smoke stung his eyes; Paulus knew, from prior
experience, that in a matter of minutes he wouldn’t even be able to
see his hand in front of his face. Wild with terror, the horses
leaped and kicked at the doors of the stalls. The fire swirled,
sending out sparks that landed in the hay piled against one wall.
Paulus told one of the men to have the water bearers douse the hay
and get it out, then he plunged toward the stalls and began opening
doors. The horses reared and galloped madly to freedom.