CHAPTER XI

 

Alysia had been in Lazarus’ house only a few hours when Nathan returned, so wildly incensed that she feared he was going to storm the garrison single-handedly. Lazarus had sought him out, going from village to village until someone had been able to tell him where the stonemason could be found. (Although Alysia strongly suspected Nathan’s absence had more to do with activities other than a building project.)

A servant had let her into the house, crying out and bringing everyone running to the door. Mary wept with relief, declaring she hadn’t stopped praying for Alysia’s safety since the moment she was taken. Martha had simply helped Alysia into her nightgown and tucked her into bed.

At dawn a door flinging open and slamming shut awakened everyone again, and Nathan bounded into her room. He knelt beside the bed and grabbed her shoulders. “To think that they—did they—” His face turned scarlet with rage and he couldn’t find the words he wanted to say.

“They did not harm me. Nathan, listen to me,” she said, and calmly told him what had happened. But she did not mention Herod’s banquet, or who had brought her home. He stared at her, striving to control himself. Lazarus came into the room and sat down in a chair. His sisters stood in the doorway, listening and looking warily at their cousin. No one knew what he was going to do.

“Alysia, please forgive me,” Lazarus said, with a pained expression. He looked extremely tired and pale. “I should have let them kill me before they took you. And then, I didn’t know who to go to. I felt it was useless to go to the Romans. I do not trust the priests in Jerusalem…though they may have helped, I don’t know. Perhaps I should have asked for an audience with Herod Antipas. It didn’t occur to me. The best thing to do, I thought, was to find Nathan and talk things through. I…we had to think of your reputation. I simply had to trust God to take care of you until then.”

“You did exactly the right thing,” Alysia told him. “And God did protect me. Nathan, you must not be so angry. As I have said, the centurion realized he had made a dreadful mistake and that is why he took me to Herod’s palace. He hoped things could be made right…It was only by chance that I was able to see Herod Antipas. He said he was sending a messenger to let you know I was safe.”

Mary and Martha looked at each other. “There was no messenger,” said Martha.

“I am not surprised, for I have heard about Herod’s—well, he is not a man of integrity. I do not think we owe him a debt, by any means.”

“How were you able to return to Bethany?” Lazarus asked.

“I had to wait until the storm was over, and even after that I was kept waiting. Finally a slave escorted me through Jerusalem. I suppose I was not very important to those at the palace.”

“Well, you are important to us!” Martha exclaimed, and wiped at a tear that slid down her motherly face.

For the first time since she had started talking, Nathan spoke. He was still now, and grim. His words sent a chill over her entire body, into her very heart.

“If it takes the rest of my life,” he said, with blazing eyes, “I will see that the Romans pay for what they have done.”

 

* * * *

 

In the palace of Herod Antipas, Megara sat at an upstairs window, looking down upon a small private courtyard. She ate stoically from a bowl of orange slices and watched her husband converse with the tetrarch. Paulus obviously did not like Herod, and Herod obviously did not like what Paulus was saying to him, for he looked decidedly uncomfortable.

It has something to do with that slave, she thought. Last night, seeing her alive after months of believing her dead, was a blow from which Megara would not soon recover. But even “dead”, Alysia had been a threat to her.

Paulus changed after the ship the slave had supposedly been traveling on had gone to the bottom of the sea. He seemed to care for nothing. He took on dangerous tasks, such as rooting out a gang of criminals in one of the most deadly districts of Rome. Every other city prefect had simply left them alone, but Paulus found out their hiding places and went, with a handful of soldiers and men from the police brigade, to either arrest them or execute them on the spot.

Then, before they left for Palestine they had spent some time on Paulus’ farm in the country, and one day he’d gone with two men from neighboring farms in search of a wild boar that had killed at least two game hunters in recent weeks…equipped with only a bow, a quiver of arrows and a spear. One of the men with him had supplied her with the details. Tracking the beast for miles, loping through the forest like some wild beast himself, Paulus had killed the huge boar single-handedly with his spear, and had a long gash on his arm to show for it.

And then he had brought her to this place, with its strange customs and unfriendly populace. She had seen the hostile stares of the Jews as she was carried through the streets of Jerusalem. Megara couldn’t even have the satisfaction of reporting Alysia’s crime and exposing her as the villainess she was, for by doing so she would bring danger to Paulus and, by association, to herself. And Paulus had forbidden her to speak of it.

She had made the mistake of confronting her husband and assuming an injured air. “How long do you think you can hide her, Paulus? If you’re seen with her, it will be the end of you.”

“I will not discuss Alysia with you, Megara, for you have forfeit the right to do so. As far as I am concerned, she has done nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong! She is a murderess and a harlot—”

She stopped at the look on his face. His Nile blue eyes had frozen into two chips of ice and his brows drew together in a fierce scowl. “Bridle your slandering tongue, and if you betray her I will defend her to my last breath—after I’ve killed you.” He left her standing with her mouth open.

Well, she doubted he would kill her, but she would keep silent…at least for now.

Her face was stony as she watched Herod Antipas dip his head in the barest gesture of civility and creep into the palace like a whipped dog. Paulus immediately took his leave, passing through a doorway within the opposite colonnade.

She must be more careful. The gods forbid that he should decide to divorce her, making her an object of ridicule, or worse, pity. Somehow she had to find a means to get rid of Alysia, in a way that would bring no danger to Paulus. She did not intend to lose him, either by death or divorce.

Years ago, Megara had visited a famous sibyl just outside of Rome. She’d been a frightful sight, to be sure, hunched and wrinkled, with staring black eyes. The sibyl told her that Paulus had a great destiny before him…and that his influence would reach kings and kingdoms.

To Megara, that meant only one thing. And she intended to be part of it.

 

* * * *

 

The winter months passed slowly for Alysia. And with the passing of each month, the day of her wedding drew nearer. At Nathan’s insistence she did not venture outside the town…which was just as well since she had learned that there were Romans on virtually every street corner in Jerusalem. And what if she should see Paulus? It was much easier to not risk catching a glimpse of him…to pretend that he was still in Rome and lost to her forever.

At least, it was easier for a while. Until she began to grow bored and restless and to feel as if she were a prisoner. In the spring Lazarus and his sisters began planning a trip to Galilee. There was a man there, a man they knew well, who had recently begun to preach. He was from the town of Nazareth; his name was Jesus.

His fame had already reached Judea, for it was said he performed miracles, healing people without medicine or herbs, healing even the blind and deaf. Alysia wasn’t particularly impressed…she had seen many charlatans and magicians in Athens who claimed to do the same things. It seemed the rest of the province was skeptical, too, for most Judeans were contemptuous of Galileans and especially of Nazareth, a town they considered uncultivated and uncouth. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” was the popular saying.

But that didn’t stop her from wanting to go. She would have gone almost anywhere for diversion. One night when Nathan was eating supper at Lazarus’ house she broached the subject with more than a little trepidation. She knew he would be opposed.

“Of course you cannot go,” he said, not even looking up as broke off a piece of bread.

She looked with dismay at Lazarus, who merely raised his eyebrows. He’d already told her she would have to abide by whatever Nathan decided.

“Why not?” she asked. This time Nathan raised his brows.

“Have you forgotten what the soldiers did to you? What they would have done had not God intervened?”

“I’ll be in the country—I won’t go into any cities where there are Romans. Besides, it’s ridiculous to think that that could happen again.”

“Why is it ridiculous? What has changed? The Romans are still without any sense of honor, and you are still a beautiful woman.”

“Nathan, I will not spend the rest of my life afraid to venture outside the walls of Bethany! Everyone else at least is able to visit Jerusalem. I haven’t been anywhere in months!”

Martha began picking up dishes and retreated to the kitchen. But Lazarus and Mary remained sitting at the table.

Nathan looked at his cousin. “Do you not agree with me, Lazarus?”

Lazarus thought a moment before he replied. “I was with Alysia when she was taken, and so I would not presume to promise you her safety. But I don’t believe that such a thing will happen again.”

“And about this man—Jesus of Nazareth. Perhaps you know him well, Lazarus, but I do not. Why should Alysia risk so much to go and hear him?”

“We have been friends all our lives.” Lazarus looked at Alysia and explained. “I was born and raised in Nazareth, but when I married I moved here to Bethany, so that my wife could be near her family. Not long after I lost my wife, Martha’s husband also died, and she and Mary came here to live with me. Our parents had already been dead for some time, and Mary had been living with Martha.”

Alysia nodded her understanding. Lazarus’ dark eyes went back to Nathan. “Jesus was a good friend to me,” he said again. “I was not a healthy child, and other children can be—unkind. He was several years younger than I, but whenever he was with me—for some reason there was no bullying from anyone, no cruel words. He’s been a carpenter since his youth, and he taught me woodworking, light things that would not tire me. I know that he is a good man. If he feels that he has been anointed by God to preach, then it is so.”

“Perhaps you didn’t know this, Lazarus. The Romans are watching him. He has acquired a large following. And since the Romans are concerned, so is the Sanhedrin.”

“As far as I know, he has said nothing against Rome.”

Nathan said dryly, “That’s what I don’t like about him.”

Unexpectedly Mary spoke, in her usual gentle manner. “I wish you would let her go with us, Nathan. I know it must be tiresome, staying at home all the time. You could come, too.”

“I cannot leave my work.”

“Which work?” Alysia couldn’t resist saying. “You do things that I might not approve of, and yet I am allowed to say nothing.”

Nathan pushed his plate aside and crossed his arms on the table. “Alysia, I realize that you were raised differently and you are not familiar with some of our ways. We’ve all been lenient in our expectations. And, I will admit that some of the traditions are old-fashioned and not strictly followed anymore. At one time a betrothed young woman would be expected to stay secluded, never go anywhere, and not even see her prospective bridegroom for an entire year.”

“But as you say, some traditions are old-fashioned.”

Nathan paused for a moment, then gave a slow smile. “Well, it seems I am outnumbered. Lazarus, if some evil befalls Alysia perhaps your miracle-worker can save her.”

“No evil will come to me,” Alysia said, wishing she could be certain of that.

Lazarus also smiled. “Your concern is not without cause, Nathan. But if the Lord God is willing, I will bring her safely home to you.”

 

* * * *

 

Most Judeans hated Samaritans, even more than they despised the country-bred Galileans. If a Jew wanted to inflict the most scathing of insults upon another Jew, he called him a Samaritan. Besides the unforgivable act of being descendents of Gentiles who had intermarried with Jews, the Samaritans believed themselves to be racially superior to all other inhabitants of Palestine and had their own temple, their own priesthood, and their own Holy City. Most Jews would not even pass through the province, going far out of their way to hug the western bank of the Jordan River; many even crossed to the other side.

But Lazarus took a direct northern route, and on the second day they crossed into Samaria, where the hills of Judea lowered into a short plain and became the foothills of the Samaritan mountains. The highway passed through valleys, through rich green vineyards and terraced fields. Close beside the road wild thick vines ran along the ground, climbing posts, trees, and courtyard walls. They saw quaint farms and the great barns of wealthy landowners. After two more nights spent at roadside inns, they were joined by merchants and travelers from several other countries…Egyptians, Greeks, Arabians, Romans. The nearer they drew to Nazareth, the more crowded the roads became until their caravan was only one among many.

“The town of Nazareth is small,” Lazarus told Alysia, as they waited at a busy crossroad for an Arabian merchant to coax his balking camel into mobility, “but it is almost at the center of a very important trade route. In fact, this is the most used highway from Damascus to Joppa, and then by ship to Rome. I can say one thing for Rome…it has united almost the whole world with its system of roads.”

“And a lot of good the roads do when you can’t even pass,” Martha grumbled, loud enough to be heard by the harried camel driver. She suffered greatly from the hard seat of the cart, in spite of the cushion she had placed there. In the other cart Mary talked quietly with the servant who drove and didn’t seem to mind the jerking and jostling over rough ground.

However, they never reached Nazareth. After inquiring of fellow wayfarers where they might find the Nazarene preacher, they were directed to a point close by the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee, or Lake Gennesaret, as it was called by those who lived near it. The ground sloped uphill and was, as always, covered with rocks, some the size of boulders. Where the soil was more fertile, poppies and anemones provided vivid spots of color and beauty. To the east lay the city of Capernaum, known for its thriving fishing industry, and below, along the shoreline, sprawled Herod Antipas’ capital city…Tiberias…as much a marvel of architecture as anything his father had built.

When they reached the top of the incline Alysia got off of the cart to walk…and had to stop and stare. A huge multitude of people, hundreds, perhaps a thousand or more, either sat or stood along the fringes of those sitting. Just above them a large stone jutted out from the brow of the hill, and upon it sat a man who was speaking to them. She could only see that he wore a light-colored robe and had dark hair, but his voice carried well in the clear air…and from his vantage point surrounded by grassy hills.

Lazarus stopped the creaking carts. They all walked to the edge of the crowd and stood, listening. Even sitting down this man was an arresting and dynamic figure. He spoke with a quiet simplicity, yet with such animation that the very words seemed to come alive. He seemed about to finish; Alysia received the impression that he had been talking for some time. He began to quote from the Scriptures. She had no trouble understanding his Aramaic speech…almost a miracle in itself considering her limited vocabulary in the Jewish languages.

At last he rose to his feet, walked along the ledge to a pathway running beside it, and came down to join his audience. All who had been sitting now stood up; several people surged toward him and he was lost from view. A middle-aged woman turned to Alysia with glowing eyes.

“No one has ever spoken as he does,” she whispered. “He’s not like the scribes, or the Pharisees. He knows us.”

Hundreds began taking their departure, women in plain homespun gowns, men in robes with long hair and beards, noisy children eager to play after being still for most of the afternoon. Many of them carried satchels and waterskins, and began making their way toward Capernaum on the northern shore of the lake. Lazarus gestured, and Alysia joined him and his sisters as they walked slowly upward.

At length most of the crowd had dispersed. Now Alysia could see the Nazarene standing in a grove of fir trees to her right, talking to several other men. A light robe, open at the throat and belted at the waist, covered his tall and powerfully-built frame. He moved about as he spoke, with a strength and athleticism that reminded Alysia of Paulus…indeed, both men had similar qualities of bearing and appeared to be about the same age. He wore his brown, shoulder-length hair loosely tied in the back. A well-groomed beard molded closely with the contours of his face.

Then the Nazarene saw them. A sudden smile lit his face and he came quickly toward them, embracing them with great affection. Martha was in tears, but she remembered to take Alysia’s arm and set her before their friend.

“This is Alysia. She is living with us now. She is betrothed to our cousin, Nathan.”

The Nazarene spoke graciously to her in Greek, his dark eyes level and friendly upon her face. His voice was low now, but articulate, without the strong accent that characterized the speech of other Galileans she had met. She wondered why he had spoken to her in Greek.

“I speak your language,” she said, in halting Aramaic. “That is, please don’t feel that you must speak to me in Greek.”

“You should hear the conversations at our house,” Lazarus commented. “Half in Aramaic, half in Greek, with a little Latin and Hebrew thrown in for good measure. We’ve had more than one guest depart rather abruptly.”

The general laughter lifted her feeling of nervousness, and she listened as they all asked and answered questions of each other. There were four other men standing nearby who seemed to be friends of the Nazarene, and they were introduced as Simon Peter and his brother Andrew, and James, with his obviously much younger brother, John.

Those who had chosen not to leave had begun to set up camps on the hillside, for it would soon be dark. Lazarus decided their group would do the same. By the time night had fallen, myriads of small fires dotted the hills. Alysia sat just inside their tent; Mary and Martha were already asleep on their pallets. Another tent had been put up a short distance away for Lazarus and the servants who had accompanied them. She wrapped her arms around her knees and listened to Lazarus talking with the four friends of the Nazarene.

From what she could gather, Lazarus had known these men before he left Nazareth. Mary had already told her that these four—Peter, John, James and Andrew, had been partners in a prosperous fishing business in Capernaum. They had left their livelihood to become disciples of this itinerant preacher called Jesus, who now lay stretched out on his side a little distance from the fire, fast asleep.

The other men lounged at various points around the fire. The one called Peter rose and retrieved a jug of water from a nearby cart. He was taller than the others, wide of shoulders; she could see the hard, corded muscles in his arms beneath the short sleeves of his robe. His dark brown hair was thick, curly, and seemingly windblown — even on this windless night. His eyes were black, and his skin deeply tanned and creased about the mouth and forehead. Strands of gray streaked his short, dark beard. Of all of them, he was the most talkative and seldom stopped moving about.

His brother, Andrew, had a kind, ruddy face and seemed of a more calm disposition. John appeared to be not much older than herself and had a distinct, deliberate way of speaking. James was shaggy-haired with a deep, booming voice. He and John, she had learned, were cousins of the Nazarene; their mothers were sisters.

“Tell me, Peter,” Lazarus urged, “tell me all that has happened since Jesus began to preach.”

Peter relaxed, for a moment, against the trunk of a tree. “There is so much to tell, Lazarus, I don’t know where to begin.”

“Tell what happened yesterday,” John suggested. “About the leper.”

Peter gestured with his cup at the younger man. “You have a way with words. You tell him.”

John waited a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. He gazed into the fire, drew his legs up and placed his elbows on his knees, and began.

“Yesterday morning, in the city, Jesus had been speaking to a gathering when a great cry went up, and it was obvious that something was happening—for they were sounds of rage and disgust. The crowd began to part, and we saw the leper. It was—a very advanced stage of leprosy. It must have been a most painful and dangerous journey, for his feet were…well, they were hardly recognizable as feet. His clothes were like filthy rags hanging off of bare bones. What little flesh covered them was decaying, like that of a dead man. The stench was unbearable.”

John paused. Alysia felt thankful they had arrived too late to see this dreadful apparition.

“The people were bitterly indignant,” he went on. “The poor man must have come from some leper’s colony, and had the audacity to approach a crowd of people and press his way in.”

“They cleared a path for him fast enough,” Peter added, with humor.

“Some of us drew closer to Jesus, as if we would protect him. Though I admit, should the man have proved hostile, I don’t know if I could have brought myself to lay a hand on him.”

The other men nodded in agreement.

“Jesus said to let him through. We tried to argue with him, but he only repeated himself, so we fell back a little. The leper came face to face with Jesus. Everything became very quiet. It was a…a very moving sight. The crouching, diseased man…and Jesus, tall and straight and completely self-possessed, not afraid or repulsed as we all were.”

“Did the leper speak?” Lazarus asked.

“Yes, very hoarsely. He said, ‘Sir, if you will, you can heal me.’ And then he knelt down.”

A silence fell, like the silence that must have fallen the day before as everyone stood staring, waiting, feeling the suspense mount. John’s voice became unsteady.

“And Jesus said, ‘I will. You are cured of your affliction’. And he reached out…and touched the leper.”

Alysia sat up straighter, hugging her knees, her eyes locked on John’s earnest young face.

“I was afraid to look…I must have been looking at the ground, because the first thing I noticed was his feet. Suddenly, where there had been two lumps of sores, there were two whole and healthy feet! And then I looked up. It was the same man, but a different man! This man’s skin was as healthy as mine. This man was well-nourished and bore no stench, though he was still in the same rags. This man was looking down at his arms and legs, and sobbing. This man was…well.”

There was another long moment of silence as the men all looked at each other, each nodding and corroborating John’s words. Finally Lazarus asked, “Is he here?”

John shook his head. “He left soon afterward. I suppose he returned to his family. Whoever they are, they had quite a surprise yesterday!”

The conversation went on until the campfire remained nothing more than a few embers glowing in the darkness. But Alysia heard no more. Her head was spinning, trying to make sense out of what she heard. Such things were not possible! Her mind tried to tell her that it was trickery, but something within her rebelled at that. It would make the Nazarene a liar, nothing more than a magician practicing his craft—to gain what? Money, notoriety? He didn’t seem like that kind of man to her. And what of these others…were they liars as well?

She had to admit she’d been strongly impressed by this man…by his sincerity, his unique ability to communicate with his listeners, his warmth and friendliness. They had been too late to hear most of his speech, but she had heard one thing…one simple statement that resonated in her mind more than anything else he had said:

“ I have come to heal the broken-hearted…”