Marcus, alone and hurting, stood in the shadows of the corridor above, watching her.
47
Marcus sat with his mother on her balcony, talking to her of mundane things as the turtledoves fed upon the bread Iulius had put on the wall for them. He held his mother’s hand, stroking it and wishing she could speak clearly enough for him to understand. When he had first come home, she had repeated “Ha . . . da . . .” over and over again. She would stare into his eyes with such intensity, he was sure she was trying to tell him something. But the constant reminder of Hadassah only served to bring him pain. She must have seen that, for, thankfully, she stopped mentioning Hadassah entirely.
“Ju . . . leee . . . ,” she said today.
“I’ve seen Julia and spoken with her, Mother,” he said, adding no more. “Azar is seeing to all her needs.”
She made a soft sound. Marcus was aware how hard she tried to convey her thoughts to him and that she only relaxed when she had succeeded. He saw her relax now, resting her shoulders back against the cushioned chair. Her mouth sagged slightly, and he kissed her hand and sat in silence, head down, not knowing what to say.
He found less to talk about each time he came to sit with her. What could he say that would offer any consolation? That all was well in the household? That he was happy? No, none of this. Yet he felt his struggles were his own and best kept to himself. What could his mother, bound as she was by her illness, do to help him? He would only burden her further.
Phoebe watched her son and knew all was not well. She felt his unrest. She knew his silence was not a sign of contentment but a troubled heart. He didn’t realize how much Iulius told her about what was going on in her family. She knew Marcus had seen Julia. She also knew he hadn’t forgiven her. Iulius told her Marcus had informed Julia he had decided to set the past aside. Phoebe knew why. He didn’t want to face it.
She often prayed when he was sitting beside her on the balcony. What more can I do, Lord? Let the Spirit give me the words. I plead with you with all my heart for my children. I would pour out my life for them, but who better to know that kind of love than you. You poured out your life for them already. O God, if they could but see, if they could but know and fully realize. Oh, if I could only live to see that day. . . .
“Azar intrigues me,” Marcus said, breaking into her prayer. “I’d like to know more about her, but she always seems to turn the conversation to other matters.”
“Ju . . . lee . . .”
“Yes. Julia. Azar doesn’t leave the bedside until Julia’s sleeping. I understand Azar visits with you daily, as well.”
Phoebe closed her eyes and opened them in answer.
“I suppose she prays with you.”
Again, Phoebe closed and opened her eyes.
“Prayer seems her only pastime,” he said with a faint smile. “She sits in the alcove in the peristyle and prays. It’s the one Hadassah used to like. She spent the entire night there a few days ago.” He paused, then went on. “I upset her.”
Restless, he kissed his mother’s hand and placed it on her thigh as he rose. The turtledoves took flight. He stood at the wall and looked out at the city. “I may go talk to the physician. I don’t seem to get the answers I want from her.”
Phoebe made no sound. She had long since realized Hadassah must have good reason for not revealing her identity. Whatever those reasons were must be of God. If it was the Lord’s will Marcus know Hadassah was alive, she trusted him to choose his own time for unveiling her.
Iulius came out onto the balcony. “I’m sorry to interrupt, my lord, but you have visitors. Ezra Barjachin and his daughter, Taphatha.”
Surprised and delighted, Marcus bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. “I’ll return later. These are the people I mentioned who took me into their home in Jericho.”
She closed her eyes and opened them. If not for them, Marcus would have perished along the road to Jericho. She longed to hear of what they spoke. As Marcus left the room, she looked at Iulius. He seemed able to read her thoughts. “I’ll serve them myself,” he said with a grin and gestured for Lavinnia to remain with her.
Marcus went down the stairs quickly. He laughed joyfully as he saw his friends. Ezra looked very little changed as he stood in his robes in the center of the antechamber. The young woman beside him was another matter.
“Ezra!” Marcus said, clasping the Jew’s hand in warm welcome. “It’s good to see you!”
“And you, Marcus,” Ezra said, clasping his arm.
Marcus’ gaze swept the girl standing just behind him. He moved to her, hands held out. She took them, her own trembling slightly. “Taphatha, you are even more beautiful than I remember,” he said, smiling as he bent to kiss her cheek in greeting.
“You made it safely home, my lord,” she said. “We wanted to make certain.”
“I made it without further mishap.” He grinned. “Come into the triclinium. Iulius, have refreshments brought in. No pork, and bring the best wine.”
Marcus watched as Taphatha’s gaze swept the elegant room with its Roman urns, Corinthian glass, and richly covered couches and marble tables—then finally came back to rest shyly on him. He had seen that look in other women’s eyes and knew she had not gotten over her infatuation. He felt his pulse quicken and realized his own attraction to her was strong.
“My home is yours for as long as you remain in Ephesus,” Marcus said, gesturing for Ezra to take the couch of honor. “Is your wife with you?”
“Jehosheba died shortly after you left Jericho,” Ezra said, making himself comfortable. He put his hand out to Taphatha, and she took the place beside him.
Marcus gave his condolences, and they spoke briefly of Ezra’s wife. “What brings you to Ephesus?”
“Work of great importance,” Ezra said, smiling once again. “Before I tell you, there are things we must discuss.”
“I’ve missed our debates, my friend. You must stay here with us. There’s plenty of room. You can come and go about your business as you please.”
“Did you find God?” Ezra asked bluntly.
Marcus fell silent for a moment, sensing the urgency of the question. Ezra and Taphatha both looked at him, waiting, and he knew his answer would determine whether they stayed or went, whether they trusted him or not.
“You will remember of whom we often spoke on your roof,” Marcus said.
“Jesus,” Ezra said, nodding.
Marcus told of his journey to Nain and of Deborah, who sent him on to the Sea of Galilee where he met Paracletos. He told of running to Capernaum where he found Cornelius waiting for him. “I believed then that Jesus was the Christ and was duly baptized in his name.”
“That is good news!” Ezra laughed. “I was not baptized into Christ until I reached the church at Antioch. By then, Taphatha had accepted the Lord as well, and Bartholomew with her.”
“Bartholomew?” Marcus said, glancing at her. She lowered her eyes.
“A young man from Jericho,” Ezra said. “He often accompanied Taphatha home from the well. He has a heart for God. When I decided we must journey to Antioch and learn more of Jesus from the church there, Bartholomew chose to leave his father and mother and come with us.”
“Will I meet this young man of yours?” Marcus said to Taphatha.
“We are not betrothed, my lord,” she said too quickly. She blushed.
“My apologies,” Marcus said, smiling slightly. “I thought. . . .” He glanced at Ezra.
“Bartholomew didn’t want to interfere in any way with our reunion,” he commented briefly, then he and Taphatha fell silent.
Marcus looked from father to daughter, his eyes coming to rest on Taphatha’s face. She met his eyes shyly, and he saw hers were filled with deep emotion—and uncertainty. “You said you were here on a matter of great importance,” Marcus said at last, looking away from Taphatha.
“I was told in Antioch that the apostle Paul wrote a letter to the church here. One of the brethren heard it and said i
t’s a letter of great importance. I’ve come to hear it read for myself and ask permission to copy it and carry it to the church in Antioch.”
“I wouldn’t know about such a letter, nor of the church here.”
Ezra looked surprised. “You haven’t met with other Christians since your return?”
“I haven’t had the time nor the inclination. My mother and sister are both in ill health, and I’ve the responsibilities of my ships and the emporium as well.” Iulius poured the wine that had been set before them. He handed Ezra a golden goblet and another to Taphatha. When all were served, he withdrew and oversaw the food brought in.
“I find it strengthens my faith to receive the encouragement of fellow believers,” Ezra said. “Our brothers and sisters in Antioch are praying for us during this journey.”
They talked as easily as they had on the roof in Jericho. Marcus enjoyed the conversation. Taphatha said little, but her presence was pleasant, for her beauty graced the room. Watching her from time to time, Marcus remembered how he had thought about her a great deal during the first few weeks of leaving Jericho.
A movement caught his eye, and he glanced up to see Azar making her way laboriously down the steps. Quickly he rose from his couch. “There’s a woman I would like you both to meet,” he said to Ezra and went out into the antechamber. “Lady Azar, I’ve guests from Palestine. Please join us.”
She limped slowly toward the archway into the triclinium where he waited for her. Marcus put his arm out. She hesitated and then put her hand on him for support, entering the room beside him. He made the introductions, hoping during the course of conversation she might reveal something of her past to those of her own country. Ezra Barjachin looked surprised and pleased when Azar greeted him in Aramaic. He spoke to her in the same language, and she answered.
Marcus seated her on the couch nearest him. “I would prefer you speak in Greek,” he commanded her quietly before straightening.
“I apologize, my lord. Your friend asked my position in the household, and I told him I attend your sister Julia.” She declined Iulius’ offer of wine and turned her head toward Taphatha who was watching her with open curiosity.
“You can speak freely,” Marcus told them. “Lady Azar is also a Christian.” He gave them a lopsided grin. “A better one than I, my friend.” He turned to Azar. “Ezra Barjachin and his daughter have come to Ephesus to meet with the church here.”
Hadassah nodded wordlessly and sat listening with interest as Ezra told her why he had come to Ephesus.
“If not for Lord Marcus, we would still be in Jericho living under the weight of the Law.”
“If not for these two, my bleached bones would be lying in a wadi alongside the road to Jericho.” Marcus told how he had been attacked by robbers and left for dead. “Taphatha nursed me back to health.”
“It was the Lord who led us to you,” Taphatha said softly, “and the Lord who restored your health.”
Feeling a dull ache in her heart, Hadassah saw the way the young and beautiful Taphatha looked at Marcus. It was clear that, during the weeks Marcus had been in their house, she had fallen in love with him. Did he love her as well?
Hadassah had never been more aware of her own scars and lameness than at that moment. She couldn’t look at Marcus’ face, sure she would see the feelings that shone on Taphatha’s face mirrored on his own. How could he not have fallen in love with so sweet and beautiful a girl?
Lavinnia came to the archway. “Yes?” Marcus said, annoyed, fairly certain of why she had come.
“Lady Julia has awakened, my lord. She’s asked for Lady Azar.”
“You will excuse me, my lord?”
“Of course,” he said, hiding his displeasure at the interruption. One would think Julia could do without the woman for an hour or two.
Hadassah rose, aware that Ezra, Taphatha, and Marcus all watched her. She felt awkward and embarrassed to draw so much attention. She spoke briefly to Ezra and Taphatha, telling them it was a pleasure meeting them and wishing them success in their venture. When she left the room, she spoke briefly with Lavinnia about bringing a meal up for Julia.
“Her accent is Galilean,” Ezra said.
“She’s told me very little about herself or her homeland,” Marcus said, watching Azar limp toward the steps. “In fact, at times I think she’s evasive.”
Ezra grew thoughtful. “Perhaps she has cause.”
Marcus frowned, wondering what cause she might have.
Taphatha turned from having watched Azar go up the steps. “Why does she veil herself like that?”
“She told me she’s badly disfigured. She wasn’t known by that name until she came to attend my sister. The people called her Rapha.”
“‘The healer,’” Ezra translated.
“She objected to the title.”
Ezra’s brows raised in interest, but the conversation soon returned to his mission.
“I was hungry to read accounts of Jesus when I first arrived in Antioch,” Ezra said. “However, I learned only one apostle wrote a full account of Jesus’ life—Levi—and I haven’t had the opportunity to read the account for myself because of the scarcity of copies. Luke, the physician who traveled with Paul, has chronicled a history. John Mark, who accompanied Paul on his first missionary journey, set down what he was told.”
Ezra sat forward. “It came to me in Antioch that copies must be made of these documents for all the churches. The copies must be accurate, down to every jot and tittle, so that the gospel remains pure. We need the written accounts of eyewitnesses to instruct us.”
“Many believers think the Lord will return any day, and there isn’t the need to spend such time and money on this mission,” Taphatha said.
Ezra appealed to Marcus. “Which is why I believe your gift to me was manna from heaven, Marcus. The gold you left in Jericho has funded this journey and is funding others. If the apostle John will permit me, I will copy Paul’s letter in its entirety and take it back to Antioch, where it will be copied again by two other scribes whose work is meticulous. The documents will be carefully scrutinized and compared to assure that not one letter or word is changed. We must preserve these eyewitness accounts for future generations.”
Taphatha didn’t seem to share her father’s conviction or zeal. “Jesus was said to promise that this generation would not pass away before he returned.”
“Yes,” Ezra said, “but the Lord God gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. By that promise alone, Daughter, we know this generation of believers will never pass away.”
He turned to Marcus. “God has put in my heart a zeal for his Word, the Word he has given through his apostles to followers of the Way. We must not live for today as the Gentiles do. We must think of tomorrow and of our children and their children. The eyewitness accounts must be copied and preserved.”
Marcus saw how Ezra’s eyes burned with determination and excitement, and his own blood stirred within him. “Whatever more you need to further your purpose, my friend, I will gladly give.”
Ezra nodded. “God prepared you for this day,” he said, smiling broadly and relaxing. “If this journey accomplishes what I hope, I want to find other scribes with the same burden upon their hearts and send them to Corinth and Rome. The Corinthian church is said to have received four lengthy letters from Paul. Another scribe could be sent to Rome, where I’ve heard there’s a letter to all the saints that’s in the keeping of a husband and wife in whose home the church meets.”
Marcus shook his head. “Rome is not a healthy place for a Christian.”
“Nor is Ephesus,” Ezra said.
“No, it isn’t,” he said, remembering Hadassah’s death. “Ephesus is the center of worship for Artemis and second only to Rome in worshiping the emperor as a god.”
“God did not give us a spirit of fear, Marcus. If this work is of the Lord, he will protect us.”
Troubled, Marcus looked at Taphath
a. If she traveled with her father, she would be in great danger. She seemed far less convinced about this mission than he, but remained obedient.
As Hadassah had been obedient.
Marcus looked back at Ezra and saw the older man considering him carefully. Something was on Ezra’s mind, but he was apparently not ready to speak of it now in his daughter’s hearing.
Marcus had a feeling he knew what it was.
48
Long hours later, after Ezra and Taphatha had departed for the evening, Marcus went upstairs. As he was walking down the corridor, he heard Azar speaking. He stood outside Julia’s door, listening.
“Yes, my lady, but consider the mouse who lives in the wheat field. He has no thought for the future, either. The high stalks of wheat provide food and shelter, and he has no fear of tomorrow. But then the harvest comes and his world is stripped away, and his life with it. Not once did that poor mouse give thought to the owner of that field, nor even acknowledge his existence. Yet the day of harvest came anyway.”
“And is coming,” Julia said with a weary sigh. “I understand what you’re saying, Azar. I am the mouse.”
“My lady . . . ,” Azar said, her voice full of hope.
“No. Please, listen. It’s a good thing to know there will be justice someday. But don’t you see? Justice is being served now. Whether I acknowledge God or not doesn’t matter, Azar. My fate is fixed.”
“No, Julia . . .”
“It’s too late for me. Don’t speak of the Lord anymore,” Julia said bleakly. “It only hurts to hear of him.”
“He can remove your pain.”
“The pain will stop when I die.”
“You needn’t die.”
“Oh yes. I need to die. You don’t know the things I’ve done, Azar. Unforgivable things. Marcus used to tell me everything costs something. He was right.”
Marcus shut his eyes, pierced by the utter hopelessness in Julia’s voice. He had wanted to punish her—and so he had. Now he heard her anguish, and it echoed inside him. Did he want his sister to die? He had accepted Christ. He was saved. He had hope. What did she have?