Empire's End Page 5

  “It’s entirely my fault, and he’s no bother. He’s a delight.”

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Corydon, come now.”

  When the boy made no move, I set him down and nudged him toward his mother. Alastor startled me when he clapped me on the back and said, “How good of you to make him obey! She’ll appreciate that. I don’t do enough of it.”

  The four of us sat on mats across from each other, Taryn and the boy on one side, Alastor and I on the other, with the bread and steaming pot of stew between us. Corydon begged to sit next to me, but when I began to assure his mother it would be all right, Alastor stopped me with a touch, pronounced a blessing over the food, and changed the subject.

  The bread was nearly as warm as the stew, and while I was not hungry from what should’ve been an arduous journey, I found the repast more than satisfying. Taryn sat nearly motionless except to help her son, and she and Alastor kept the lad quiet the entire meal, though it was clear he very much wanted to talk.

  As soon as we were finished with the dessert of figs, Taryn excused herself to put the boy to bed. He protested only briefly and giggled when I told him that in the morning he must help me find my sandals. When I began to help clear the eating area, Alastor shook his head and led me into the front section of the tent where he drew out a Scripture scroll, cradled it in his lap, and suggested we talk about what to expect from the meeting of the elders.

  I was frankly more concerned with where I was to spend the night. The miracle of my sojourn had left me with no question that I was where I was meant to be and that no human—elders or otherwise—would have the power to turn me away, whether I succeeded in persuading them of my value or not. God had already told Alastor of my coming, so it seemed the rest was simply a matter of details.

  Nadav and five others made up the remainder of the elders, and around the beginning of the second watch, they arrived in ones and twos. When they were situated, Alastor opened the scroll, read a psalm, prayed, and introduced me by name as “the man I spoke to you about. I am welcoming him as a guest in my home, and I would like you to acquaint yourselves with him so you may make him feel welcome as well.”

  A beefy man who looked not much younger than Alastor and who bore a stony visage said, “You welcome a stranger and expect us simply to do the same? If you feel that by having him sit here in our midst will keep us from speaking our minds, you are mistaken.”

  Alastor raised a hand. “Zuriel, surely you know me better than that. That is the reason for this meeting. All things are to be revealed openly. Ask this man anything you want. Tell him anything you want. Satisfy yourself completely.”

  “And if in the end I am not satisfied, what then? Do we send him on his way?”

  “Trust me, friend,” I said, “you’ll find that unnecessary.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Zuriel said. “I am not your friend. At least not yet. For all I know you could be a spy, a Roman, an agent of the Sanhedrin.”

  “I assure you I am a follower of The Way.”

  “And because you know a phrase meant to set my mind at ease, I’m to welcome you with open arms.”

  “Brother, I believe God wants me here and that eventually He will make that plain to you.”

  “What leads you to believe God wants you here?”

  Below the curtain separating the sections of the tent I noticed Taryn’s sandals and the fringes of her mantle. What must she be thinking of all this?

  “He sent me here—that’s all I can say.”

  “What drove you from Damascus?”

  “Frankly, my fellow Jews. I think some wanted to hand me over to the Sanhedrin and Jerusalem. Some of my friends believed others actually wanted to kill me.”

  Zuriel narrowed his eyes at me and glanced at his fellow elders. “For what charge?”

  “I was teaching at private gatherings of followers of The Way. And I was speaking in synagogues, preaching Christ.”

  At this, Zuriel fell silent. Someone else said, “Do we know anyone from Damascus who can vouch for this man?”

  “Enough with this!” Alastor said. “I am your rabbi and I vouch for him. Is that not enough?”

  “No! It is not!” It was Zuriel again. “You tell us you met this man just hours ago, yet—”

  “I told you God has given me peace about him.”

  “And that should give us peace?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The others began to murmur and someone suggested getting word to the brethren in Damascus to try to corroborate my story.

  “If you know the brethren in Damascus,” I said, “you must know—”

  Do not name Ananias or Judas.

  Alastor leaned forward and spoke softly. “We all come from various cities, towns, and villages. Some of us are familiar with the leaders of The Way in Damascus.”

  “Tell us who you know there, Paul,” Zuriel said.

  “I am not at liberty,” I said.

  “There! You see? And why not?”

  Zuriel laughed derisively, but Alastor held up a hand to quiet him and said we should discuss my role in the community.

  “His role?” Zuriel said. “It will not be a part of this body, I can tell you that, because that requires a unanimous vote, and he will not have mine.”

  “My friend,” I said, “I am not in the least qualified to be an elder. I am very new to the faith.”

  “And yet you would have us believe you were chased from the synagogues in Damascus for preaching Christ? You are a madman.”

  “You are not the first to think that,” I said, smiling.

  Zuriel was clearly not amused.

  “Paul is a new believer,” Alastor said, “full of passion and zeal, and upon whom I believe God has His hand. I will personally see to it that he carries his weight here. He will have mornings to himself, will apply a trade in the afternoon so he can afford food and lodging and clothes, and he will take his turn with both the fishing detail and the night watch.”

  “What is your trade?” someone asked. “We have no need of a preacher, especially a new one.”

  This caused the others to chuckle and Alastor to break in to explain that I had not yet determined my trade, but I interrupted him to say, “I am a tentmaker. And frankly, from the looks of things, there’s enough repair work here to keep me busy.”

  Again I had apparently surprised everyone. And again Zuriel broke the silence. “Your hands do not look like those of a tentmaker. More like a cleric’s.”

  “I confess it’s been a while. But I’ll develop my calluses soon enough, and your dwellings will evidence my handiwork.”

  “Start with mine,” the burly man said.

  “All I need are the tools and a place to work.”

  All the elders save Zuriel spoke cordially to me and welcomed me before they left. Nadav held back and told me where Theo was corralled and could be watered and fed every day. “He’s a fine-looking animal.”

  I nodded. “You look as if you have something on your mind.”

  He signaled me outside with a nod. “Forgive me, it was none of my business.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I hand-fed him some grain, just a little, when I was watering him before, and I got a twig in with it. He let me remove it, and I noticed the marking inside his lip.”

  “Did you?”

  He nodded. “That’s not a private horse, is it? At least it hasn’t always been.”

  “That’s right.”

  “How did you come by him?”

  “He was issued to me, and that’s all I care to say about it.”

  “He’s yours now, though.”

  I was silent.

  “You wouldn’t risk bringing a stolen horse among us, would you, Paul?”

  “Nadav, I have to ask you to trust me to handle my own business. There are things I cannot speak about yet. Now, leave Theo to me, and I hope I can trust you not to trouble the others with your questions about him.”

  “But I have only just
met you, sir. We are risking our lives and our families, and—”

  “And I am doing the same, I assure you. Any risk I expose you to would expose me as well. Believe me, my friend, God seems to have led me here for a purpose even I don’t yet understand. But I am learning to trust Him. I pledge to you my fidelity in doing everything I can to maintain your safety. Will you trust me to handle my private affairs?”

  Nadav seemed to study me and consider my request. Finally he reached for my forearm and we shook hands. He offered a tight-lipped smile. “Perhaps my confidence might earn me the next place on your repair list after Zuriel? My tent is the farthest north.”

  “I’ve seen it. It’s in the worst repair.”

  “Do you really have tentmaking experience?”

  “I don’t mean to boast, but in a few days, you will know.”

  As Nadav disappeared into the night, I turned to find Alastor waiting just inside the tent, laden with the mat he and I had shared at supper, along with a heavy fur blanket. I apologized for putting him out and asked if I really needed so thick a covering.

  “You might be surprised.”

  He told me he had scolded Zuriel for his treatment of me and had also informed him that before I started repairing his tent, I would fashion my own lodging quarters. “For tonight you will sleep right here, but by tomorrow night you should have your own area around this side.”

  Alastor led me out and showed me in the moonlight where I could add on to the side of his tent an eight-foot overhang, enclosed at the back to accommodate a sleeping mat, and open at the front except to block the sun, where I could work in the afternoon. “By the time you return from the wilderness, I’ll see to it that you have all the equipment and tools you need. We will all be glad to give up this odious chore, at which none of us bear any skill.”

  “That is clear.”

  “I’ll thank you not to continue to emphasize that.”

  Alastor started back inside but I lingered, having more questions and not wanting to bother his daughter or grandson. I asked him how I might earn actual money in the event I had debts, and how I would send money out of Yanbu. He told me of an elaborate scheme he and the others had devised that included their Red Sea night-fishing parties bartering with occasional caravans, and sometimes sending someone on a long journey to get messages to families and loved ones they had left.

  I wondered how I would send payment to the Sanhedrin for my horse without revealing more about myself to these people than I cared to. I saved the question for another time.

  Before we retired, Alastor whispered, “Taryn asked me to thank you for your kindness to Corydon. He has few playmates, and few adults pay him any attention.”

  “Oh, she should think nothing of it. I find him amusing. But tell me, is she too shy to speak to me on her own?”

  “She is in pain, Paul. And I’m sure she wonders about propriety. Give her time to get accustomed to having you around. It was insensitive of me to give her so little notice. I did not tell her of my dream because I was unsure of it myself, and then Corydon and I simply arrived with you, saying you would be staying with us.”

  “How long ago did she lose her husband?”

  “It has been only this year.”

  Alastor’s voice caught telling me that, which should have slowed me, but I asked, “And how did he die?”

  He looked away and sighed. “We, ah, find it difficult to talk about yet.”

  “Forgive me. You were close to him too.”

  “I did not live with them, but he wanted me to. Taryn’s mother has been gone for many years, but I am healthy, and I wanted to allow them time to themselves. Now I wish I had accepted his offer. He was such a wonderful man. I didn’t know if we would ever smile again. Taryn told me you had the lad laughing.”

  “I was just teasing him.”

  “It humored her too. So good for her.”

  “Well, I’m glad.”

  We stepped back inside the tent and I spread out the fur covering. Alastor bid me good night, but just before he reached the curtain he returned. “Tell me something,” he whispered. “Were you really in Damascus yesterday?”

  “I mounted Theo at first watch.”

  The old man shook his head. “And I thought I’d had an experience when the Lord spoke to me. I don’t know how you’ll sleep.”

  “I’m finally tired. I’m curious, though. I have no idea what I am to do in the morning. You say I am to meet God in the wilderness. I don’t even know where that is.”

  Alastor put one hand on his belly and another over his mouth and wheezed, clearly trying to keep from laughing. “You have been in the wilderness since you reached the Red Sea, my friend! All you have to do is leave the tent and head east and you’ll have all the wilderness you want. But don’t you think the God who got you here from Damascus in one day’s time can get you where He wants you tomorrow?”

  5

  THE PRESENCE

  OF THE DIVINE

  THE ARABIAN WILDERNESS

  I SLEPT THE SLEEP of the dead and woke before dawn to a most unusual mixture of pungent odors. Next to my head sat a small table draped with a striped cloth, on which lay a loaf of warm bread and a shallow bowl of olives, which appeared to have been tossed with grapes.

  I crept near the curtain to listen for whether anyone would join me, but I heard the old man’s snore and nothing of the boy or his mother.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly.

  “You are welcome, sir,” came Taryn’s whisper, in a tone implying that I should not wake the others. She extended a cup of wine around the curtain.

  “I don’t usually eat this early,” I said. “But I’m grateful.”

  “Father said you were going into the wilderness this morning,” she said dismissively. “You need something.”

  I found her voice captivating, but it was also apparent she wished I would not make too much of her gesture and that she didn’t care to commence a conversation.

  The combination of sour olives with sweet grapes and the warmth of the bread made me close my eyes and sigh, and I silently thanked God for every bite. I considered returning the bowl and cup to Taryn, but not wanting to cause her any discomfort, I merely slipped out of the tent in the darkness and headed east through the communal area.

  There the sand had been packed hard by daily life. I smelled the livestock and heard the horses nickering before I was confronted by the man on watch. He stepped into my path and I heard the faint scrape of blade against scabbard.

  “Friend?” he said, tension in his voice.

  “The new man, Paul,” I said. “Greetings in the name of Christ.”

  “And to you, sir. If you’re looking to relieve yourself, you’ll find the easement area to the northwest about a quarter-mile.”

  “Thank you. And might you have a lamp? I want to check on my horse.”

  “A moment.”

  He trotted away and returned to kneel and scrape a flint twice before a torch erupted with a hiss. “Yours is the big black stallion then?”

  “He is. I call him Theo.”

  “Well, Theo’s been hungry, Paul. There’s all that’s left of his second bale.”

  I held the light where I could see that my horse barely seemed to notice me as he chewed.

  And God spoke to me. Fuel for a long journey.

  “Oh, Lord, no.”

  “You don’t want him eating that much?”

  “Sorry, no, it’s fine,” I said, handing back the torch. “I’m off.”

  Beyond the easement area I reached the softer, windblown desert sands that quickly filled my sandals. With no idea how far I was to go or what I was to do when I got there, I turned west again, my eyes on the horizon, waiting for the sun to rise behind me and lighten the sky.

  Frustrated with myself for having responded aloud to the Lord’s message about Theo, I determined again to speak to Him only in my spirit. Silently I said, I believe You, I trust You, I am here. I will obey. But the steed has been so
faithful to me. Must he—?

  Do you seek to please Me or to please men?

  I stopped.

  Do not stop.

  I continued, but what a question! In my past I thought I pleased God by being zealous for Him, but I had craved the praise of men. I lived for the approval of my superiors, the priest Nathanael, who served as the vice chief justice, and the high priest, Caiaphas. Yet even then I was not serving God as much as I was serving the Law.

  I no longer want to please men, Lord. I want to serve You and You alone.

  You must become a bondservant of Christ.

  A bondservant. Bound to serve without wages. A slave. All my life I had been superior to everyone else, at least everyone my age. I had been the best, the brightest, the fastest, the most accomplished, the most revered. Many considered me boastful. I couldn’t deny it. I hadn’t cared. I’d had much to be proud of. Surely the last thing anyone would have expected of me was to be a slave.

  Yet now, as soon as I pledged myself to serve God alone, He asked me—no, commanded me—to become a bondservant of Christ. And strangely, nothing appealed to me more. Yes, Lord! Anything!

  My Son appeared to you to make you a witness of the things you have seen and what I will reveal to you. I will send you to open the eyes of the Gentiles in order to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to Me, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and an inheritance among those who are sanctified by faith in My Son.

  I wanted to say, Yes, Lord again, but I could not find utterance, even silently. I merely trudged on as a pinkish hue spread in the sky.

  Make your way to the plateau before you.

  It appeared about a half mile away, and I prayed God would not remain silent as I increased my pace. I gathered my mantle at my thighs so it would not restrict me, and sand flew from my sandals as I broke into a trot. I felt as if I were racing into the very presence of God and couldn’t get there fast enough. My breath became short and I wondered why He could not have prompted me to ride Theo.

  The pink in the sky gave way to orange and then yellow and finally a cloudless blue, and the sun warmed the skin above and below the hair that rimmed my head. Sweat trickled down my neck, and I slipped out of my mantle, draping it over my arm as I ran on across the desert.