Man of God (18 page)

“Your Majesty,” said Agrippa, “won’t you
explain why you have summoned us? Claudius has come all the way
from his house in the rain, and I have business waiting as
well.”

“I won’t come out until he’s gone! I wanted
to talk to you about this Nazarene cult, and for all I know that’s
what Jupiter is angry about, instead of that other—thing!”

“What do you me—mean?” asked Claudius.

“Never mind! I’ve sent for a number of
princes and officials—we will have a great assembly. I am going to
warn them not to tolerate this foolishness. I might even have some
of these Nazarenes brought before me in their presence.”

“An excellent idea,” said Agrippa. “My uncle,
Antipas, was greatly affected by the dead Nazarene. He’s never been
the same—prowls like a panther all night long, so my sister says. I
know there are many of the man’s followers in Jerusalem, but I was
not aware of any great number in Rome. However, it is best to stop
them before they become a nuisance.”

Flavius watched as Agrippa sat down on the
edge of the bed and Claudius limped toward a chair. Though alarmed
by what he was hearing, he wasn’t surprised by it…he’d even been
expecting it, sooner or later. It was inevitable, once Caligula
learned of the “Nazarenes”, and their loyalty to a God other than
himself.

“My sources tell me they meet in each other’s
homes,” answered the voice under the bed. “There are even some of
them in the Jewish section, and they are allowed to speak in the
synagogues. That is very curious, since it was the Jews who
crucified this so-called Messiah in the first place!”

“The Jews and the Ro—Romans,” said
Claudius.

The storm began to recede, and Caligula’s
head appeared as he lay on his back looking up at the king. “You,
Herod Agrippa, ought to consider hying yourself back to Jerusalem.
How can you keep those fanatics quiet all the way from Rome?”

“The Sanhedrin is doing all it can to stop
them, your Majesty. Prison, beatings, even death to some.”

“Not the same as Roman justice! Your
grandfather would have made short work of them.”

Agrippa’s handsome brow wrinkled. “If your
majesty believes I should return to Palestine I will do so, but I
don’t think it necessary.”

“Suit yourself! Just make sure they are dealt
with. I will see that they set my statue dressed as Jupiter in
their Temple. I have already ordered it—what is taking them so
long?”

Agrippa and Claudius exchanged glances. They,
along with the governor of Syria, had been delaying the
command—knowing how the Jews would react and the bloodbath that
would follow.

“I have not been in correspondence with the
governor,” Agrippa lied smoothly. “However, has your Majesty
considered that not only would the Jews be outraged by such an
action, but these Nazarenes as well?”

“Let them be outraged! A good excuse to rid
ourselves of all of them!”

“I believe,” Claudius said, lying as well,
“that the ship carrying your statue was lost in a storm, and that
another one is being prepared.”

“My statue—in the sea,” mourned Caligula.
“Now
Neptune
will be angry with me!”

“He was already angry,” Claudius couldn’t
resist saying. “About the seash—shells.”

“Enough about that—it was a
joke
!
Surely Neptune has a sense of humor. But—let us return to planning
my assembly. I want you and Agrippa to see to it that they are
given the best accommodations. Bow and scrape to them if you
must—such things are beneath the emperor. I want them to be
thoroughly impressed. I am about to increase their tribute, so
perhaps they won’t complain as much when they see our grandeur.
Flavius, tell the prefect I want the Praetorians in excellent form!
Uncle, you will have charge of those from the western provinces,
and Agrippa those from the east.”

“When are they to arrive, your Majesty?”
Agrippa asked.

“They should begin arriving within a week.
The meetings will commence in two weeks or so.”

“Not much time to pre-prepare,” Claudius
observed.

“How much time do you need! I told you about
it a long time ago, Uncle. That was the time start
pre-preparing!”

“I presume they have all answered your
invitation?”

“I do not invite, Herod Agrippa. I command.
And yes, they have all answered that they are coming—why would they
not? I will have my secretary give you a list of names. Now, you
weary me. I shall sleep until Jupiter withdraws his wrath…Flavius,
see them out.”

The divine head disappeared. Flavius waited,
spear in hand, as the two men rose and left the room, both looking
harried and indignant. He sighed inwardly, resigning himself to
several more hours of boredom…but at least he could think without
interruption about how he was going to inform Paulus, and other
believers, about this new threat. His wife, Susanna, had seen Simon
in the forum the other day, and learned that Paulus was visiting
Horatius’ villa outside of Rome. One day a week Flavius did not
attend the emperor; perhaps on that day he could ride out to the
villa.

Horatius’ slaves must not be aware of Paulus’
identity, or Alysia’s. They would probably have no opportunity to
hear from someone, somewhere, that Paulus Valerius and his wife
were being sought by Caligula, and even if they did hear such a
thing, they wouldn’t know what he looked like. It was still risky,
though, and Horatius would face an unpleasant fate should the
emperor find out he had harbored Paulus on his property.

Flavius would go on the pretense that he
wished to speak to Horatius’ guest about a business matter. He
would not be in uniform; the slaves would think nothing of it. Or
maybe he should ask Simon to go. Flavius’s scars always drew
unwanted attention and made him memorable. If at any point in the
future Caligula learned that Flavius had spoken to Paulus, his
fate, too, would be unpleasant—to say the least. And then there
would be no one in his position who could warn the community of
believers of Caligula’s intentions.

Was that cowardly? Gladiators could be called
many things…but “coward” was not one of them. He had a dread,
however, of slow torture, and he knew what the emperor was capable
of. He would have to think about that.

“Flavius, stop rattling about,” came a
querulous voice. “How do you expect me to sleep a wink?”

His bodyguard unbuckled his sword and laid it
aside. Since Caligula couldn’t see him, he sat down in a chair, and
his gaze kept going back to his sword. He was one of the few
permitted to carry a sword inside the palace—most of the guards
carried javelins. It was an old rule—but rules were changing.

Again he wondered what he would do, if there
was ever an attempt by others to put the emperor out of his
misery.

* * *

“Can you help me? I am looking for someone.”
Livias spoke in a warm, candid manner to the young woman, who was
demurely dressed in a forest green gown, her palla draped over her
head and shoulders. She held a basket of fruit and a wriggling
white puppy in her arms, and stopped walking to glance at him
warily. His forehead, almost bare of eyebrows, lifted in
surprise.

“Daphne! I’d forgotten—you live near here,
don’t you?”

They were on a street at the eastern end of
the forum, not far from the Circus Maximus. Steam rose from the
pavement after the recent thunderstorm, and with it strong and
unpleasant odors.

“I don’t think I know you,” she said, and
began walking again.

He strode alongside her. “Oh, you know me
very well. But it’s been a year or so, since we…saw each
other.”

She ignored him. Livias stared and wondered
how he had recognized her, because she looked quite different.
There were no cosmetics on her face, and it was softer somehow…

“If you will only answer a few questions I
will stop following you,” he said, when it became obvious she
wanted nothing to do with him. “Have you seen a man who looks like
this?”

He withdrew the sketch of Paulus from the
breast of his tunic and held it out for her to see. Her gaze
flitted toward it curiously, and then fixed on the sheet of
parchment. Livias knew at once that she had seen the man before.
She seemed to realize she had made a mistake in her reaction, and
her eyes moved and focused on the street before them.

“What is his name?” she asked
indifferently.

“Paulus Valerius.”

“I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“You know a lot of men—whose
names
you
don’t know.”

She stopped and looked at him earnestly. “I
am no longer in that profession. Will you please leave me in
peace?”

“Oh! What brought this about? You are one of
the most sought—”

“What has the man done? Why do you seek
him?”

Livias eyed her shrewdly. She might not
willingly betray the man, but what about the woman?

“I seek him mainly because of his wife, a
runaway slave who killed a man.”

This time Daphne’s shock was obvious. Livias
grabbed her arm none too gently and said, “Where are they?”

“How should I know? I admit I’ve seen the man
before, but I didn’t know his name or…or any of what you just said.
I don’t believe it!”

“Where have you seen him? Is he a client of
yours?”

“No!”

“Where then?”

“I’ve only seen him a few times, and I don’t
know where they are now. They could be anywhere.”

He tightened his hold on her arm and she
shrank away from him. “Where does he live?”

“How would I know that? I have nothing to
tell you.”

Livias felt a surge of both frustration and
triumph. She
did
have something to tell him, and he would
see to it that she did. But he didn’t want to frighten her away…let
her go home and think herself well rid of him. He would send
Petronius and his men to her house, which he knew well, as soon as
he could get word to him. And he’d have her watched in the
meantime, by one of his own “helpers”.

His silver hair and dark eyes gleamed in the
sunlight. Daphne seemed to repress a shudder as she stared at him.
“Very well,” he said smoothly, releasing her arm. He realized for
the first time the puppy was growling and yapping at him, and he
smiled. “That’s a nice little dog. Where did you get him?”

“
Her
. At a marketplace, outside of
Rome.”

“If you see this man again…you know where to
find me. I will make it worth your trouble.”

“I don’t think I want to have anything to do
with you, Livias.”

“I’m disappointed,” he said, still smiling.
“About many things. But go your way, Daphne. I am sorry if I
spoiled your day.”

She didn’t reply. He watched with narrowed
eyes as she hurried along the street, with the puppy trying to
climb over her shoulder, still barking at him.

* * *

When he broached the subject to Susanna, his
wife was adamant that they should go and see Paulus and Alysia as
soon as possible. Flavius felt ashamed that he’d even considered
not going…and on the day of the week they were not required at the
palace, they hired a small coach and rode out to Horatius’ villa.
They arrived precisely at the supper hour, and the slaves ushered
them to the courtyard where “Antonius” and his family were enjoying
the evening meal. Paulus rose to greet them, pleased that they’d
come, and Flavius and his wife gratefully sat down to dine.

It was a perfect late afternoon, with the air
having cooled after the showers in recent days. The sun hung low in
the west, and torches had already been lit around the long stone
table and padded chairs. Servants hurriedly brought extra food and
disappeared.

“It’s so good to see you again, Susanna,”
Alysia said, smiling…touched at the thoughtfulness of their visit.
“But I hope nothing is wrong?”

Susanna was short of stature and plump, with
a round, pretty face. “Nothing is wrong—yet,” she answered,
glancing with a smile of her own at Rachel. “And how are you,
darling? Are you enjoying your time here? It’s so lovely!”

“Yes, we’ve been doing all sorts of things.
Father has taught me how to ride a horse, and catch fish, and
yesterday he taught me to swim! And Daphne was here until a few
days ago. She bought a puppy at the market.”

“Oh, so you’ve seen Daphne? I’ve been worried
about her.”

“Before she left,” Alysia answered, “she
accepted the Lord.”

Susanna put a hand to her rosy cheek. “How
happy that makes me! There is something about her that touches
one’s heart…But Paulus—oh, I must call you ‘Antonius’, mustn’t
I—whatever do you mean teaching this child how to ride a horse? She
is a girl, after all, and it’s so dangerous!”

Flavius grinned at Paulus and laid his hand
indulgently on his wife’s arm. “It’s not dangerous, if you know
what you’re doing…and I’m certain Antonius is an excellent
instructor.”

“We’ll have a room prepared for you…how long
can you stay?” Alysia asked.

“Oh, we must leave tonight,” Susanna replied.
“We must be back at our posts tomorrow. But thank you…otherwise we
would be very glad to stay.”

Alysia glanced at Paulus and he was looking
at her; something
was
wrong. It had grown dark and the
lights flared around them. The slaves brought out desserts and a
light wine. After more casual conversation, Alysia rose briefly to
take Rachel to her room, and when she returned Susanna touched her
hand with an air of apology.

“I hope we haven’t alarmed you. But there is
something we thought you should know.”

In a low voice Flavius told them of
Caligula’s plans…and threats. “And he means what he says—he is
highly offended by Jesus’ claim to divinity.”

“We all know that Caligula is mad,” Paulus
said soberly, “but with or without him, persecution will come. It
may be gradual, it may be sudden, but it will come. Jesus said we
would be hated, for his sake. It’s already happened in
Jerusalem…it’s been going on there since the resurrection. I was
hoping, though, for more time, until we were more in number, and
stronger in faith.”