Man of God: Book Two in the Woman of Sin Trilogy

CHAPTER I

Paulus Valerius Maximus had become so accustomed to a sense of imminent danger that he no longer trusted his instincts. Once he had lived by them as did most soldiers of high rank, and though he still led men, gone were the days he had carried them into battle. Now it was a different kind of battle and the danger was more subtle and ill defined. It lurked in daylight and dark, it peered from shadows, it hid in the eyes of those who offered friendship and intended malice. He didn’t care about himself; it was those he loved that he sought to protect, and yet he knew it wasn’t really himself who protected them. He had little control over what happened in life, but he trusted the One who did.

That didn’t, however, stop him from thinking of all the things that could go amiss. It was a weakness he hadn’t managed to conquer.

He tried to merge as unobtrusively as possible into the dense throng swarming toward the harbor. His hooded robe, combined with the heat of July radiating from the pavement and brick buildings around him, made him feel uncomfortably warm. At least he wouldn’t draw unwanted attention, for dozens of other men were garbed in a similar fashion, mostly Jews and other easterners; Roman men wore tunics, and some, who wished to let everyone know how important they were, wore togas.

The hood covered his neck-length mane of wheat-colored hair, now liberally threaded with silver, and most of a face too striking for a mere glance. His appearance had proved to be disadvantageous for a person in hiding, as had his wife’s. Yet in all these years they had not been recognized…himself as a Roman legate who had resigned his post and disappeared, and Alysia as a former slave who had killed a Roman citizen of senatorial rank and managed to escape before being arrested.

Paulus had aided in that escape. Alysia had been his sister’s slave, and the man she killed was about to rape her. With Paulus’ urging she had boarded a ship bound for Cyprus, a ship that had been caught in a storm and sunk, leaving him to bitterly believe he had sent her to her death. What he didn’t know was that she had changed ships at Crete and sailed to Palestine, where she had lived for a year before he found her again—by chance, he had thought then, before learning that very little happened by chance.

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 long, sloping ramps; 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 kept records of such things. The ship, with its distinguishing characteristic of a bull’s head carved into its bow, had been sighted by one of the lighthouses along the coast. Before they sailed from 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 awaiting 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 vague 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, lightly bearded 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, Father!"

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, multistoried 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. We were too excited to eat earlier!

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…though 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 had listened to his words about Jesus of Nazareth, and became 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 drove 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 benches. 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 covering his dark brown tunic and tossed 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.

Maye 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 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 their beliefs.

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 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 destroy 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.

It may take months, a year or longer, for us to reach Rome. It is our intention to spread the word in as many cities as possible on the way.

That is indeed good news, Paulus. But that doesn’t change the fact that when we presented the names of faithful and trustworthy men to the Lord, yours was the one chosen. At least for a time.

Again, Paulus’ gaze sought Alysia’s and she gave a slow nod.

I am much humbled by your words, John, and I don’t deserve them. But I will guard the shroud with my life, until such a time as God shows me what to do with it.

That had been the beginning of their journey. Leaving Galilee, they skirted the city of Damascus, then northward to Antioch, westward to Tarsus, Perga, Colossae, Ephesus, and finally, Smyrna. Rachel was, by then, five years old. The three of them had been strolling along the main thoroughfare for a rare day of sightseeing; they’d grown less hesitant about appearing in public, as long as their faces were at least half covered by their garments. Paulus had grown a short beard that little more than outlined the lower part of his face but still may have served effectively as a disguise, since most Romans were clean-shaven.

They had just passed the Temple of Apollo when the old crone had rushed after them catching at Paulus’ robe. Startled, he turned to see the woman staring at him with her vacant black eyes. I know you; I have seen you in my visions! The red-haired one came to see me, many years ago!

Don’t look at her, Alysia. Take Rachel—don’t listen to her.

Alysia grabbed Rachel’s hand, but before she could move the woman’s garbled voice turned suddenly into a singsong chant and she stood as though mesmerized. Paulus tried to urge them forward but the crowd around them had stopped, watching and listening.

In a loud voice, the woman chanted:

Kings and kingdoms thou shalt sway, some will turn to the Way. ’Tis the way of life and truth, thine own eyes have seen its proof. Tried it will be by fire and flood, and by the cost of men’s own blood. Destroy it now or count thy doom to that which was found in an empty tomb!

Her frightful gaze was now on the satchel strapped across his back. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the woman had drawn everyone’s attention to the thing he carried, as well as to his wife and daughter, Paulus would have taken the opportunity to speak to the people about the empty tomb. As it was, he knew they’d better leave the area immediately. He began pushing them through while the sibyl stood like a statue and stared after them. They went to their lodging, grabbed their belongings and headed south for the city of Ephesus, the second largest city in the empire. There they could live for a while in relative obscurity—he hoped.

They remained there for months. Paulus wrote John, saying he believed that the shroud would no longer be safe with him. For years the satchel containing it had been either on his person or concealed close by him. Paulus made light of what the sibyl had said, even laughing about it, but it was no laughing matter to consider that anyone who had witnessed the incident might become determined to see what was inside the satchel…and follow them in hopes of stealing it. Not long afterward another of Jesus’ disciples, Thomas, had come to retrieve it.

May God bless you for keeping it safe thus far, Paulus Valerius, he said, clasping Paulus’ arm in a warm greeting.

Will you take it to Rome?

No, I travel east. As we have said, we have no real destination in mind, only men who can be trusted to guard it. I hesitate to speak so of myself, but I was selected to come. He glanced at Alysia, who stood nearby. I was the doubter, he said soberly. "I said I wouldn’t believe he had risen until I saw him with my own eyes. And when I did see him, do you know what he said to me? He said that blessed are they who can believe without seeing. And so they are, and so they must be, now that he has gone to be with God."

Thomas had stayed with them several days, visiting with them in the homes of other believers. Before he left, he told them, What that woman said…you realize that such oracles cannot be trusted. This is divination, and we are forbidden to have anything to do with it. And yet it sounds as though—whatever empowers her—recognized the shroud, just as the demons used to recognize Jesus before he cast them out.

I know that Satan mixes lies with truth in order to deceive, Paulus answered. She wanted me to destroy it.

I shouldn’t wonder, Thomas said as he left them.

The carriage rocked in and out of a hole and Alysia gave a start, having almost fallen asleep. She saw that Rachel was asleep and watched as Paulus moved carefully to lay her down on the pallet covering the floor of the carriage. Then in an instant he was beside her, pulling her close against him.

It’s been too long, he said softly. Never again, without me.

No, she whispered. Never, without you.

CHAPTER II

Wake up, Rachel, we’re almost to the gate.

Alysia reached down and smoothed her daughter’s hair back from her face. Rachel stirred and sat up. Night had fallen but the brightness of the moon reflected off the road and the white stone of the surrounding tombs.

Look, there’s the pyramid, Paulus said, putting his arm around her and pointing out the window. A wealthy Roman, fond of Egyptian monuments, had built his tomb to resemble one of theirs…on a much smaller scale.

Rachel yawned. Yes, Father, I’ve seen it before.

Paulus smiled as he donned his robe and pulled the hood forward. Alysia, wearing a light blue stola draped by a palla of dark blue, arranged the latter so that it covered her head. Two openings arched over the city gate, one for pedestrians and one for vehicles, and Simon drove the carriage slowly forward until they heard a man say, Stop. Everyone out.

The Roman guards were only slightly more vigilant than those at Ostia. They customarily searched or at least glanced at every wagon, cart, and carriage that passed through. The soldiers seldom paid any attention to people, unless they had been alerted to do so.

Simon kept his seat as the other three climbed out of the carriage. The guards leaned through the windows, poked disinterestedly at the baggage in the corner, and motioned for Simon to move the vehicle forward. As the others began to walk toward it, Rachel stumbled and almost fell. Paulus reached out and caught her, picking her up in his arms, and as he did so the hood over his face fell backward. The brilliant moonlight clearly revealed the longish tawny hair, the strong clean lines of his bearded face, the deep-sea blue of his eyes.

The soldier nearest him gave Paulus one look and exclaimed, Lord Maximus!

Paulus froze. He instantly recognized the man, one of his own former legionaries. The army had called him Maximus, meaning greatest, to the chagrin of some who were in high positions…including the chief advisor of the former emperor.

You are mistaken, he said roughly, hoping to disguise his voice. I am not known by that name.

He took Alysia’s elbow and hurried her back into the carriage, handed Rachel inside, then climbed in and told Simon, Let’s go.

Simon flapped the reins and the coach rolled forward. They all held their breaths until some time had gone by and no attempt was made to halt their progress.

I’m sorry, Rachel gulped, huge tears in her eyes.

It’s not your fault, darling. Paulus called out, Will you stop please, Simon?

Alysia had been too stricken to speak until now. Paulus, what are you going to do?

I want you to go ahead. I’m going to walk behind and make sure you’re not followed.

Don’t do this—please stay with us!

He pulled her close, saying quietly into her ear, "Think of Rachel. I should be right behind you, but if I’m not home in half an hour after you get there