Man of God (19 page)

Flavius glanced around to make sure no one
was within hearing distance. “Caligula may not survive another
year—I’ve heard things, there’s a sense of something—brewing. Then
I wonder what stance his successor will take.”

“Who do you think will succeed him?” Alysia
asked.

Flavius shrugged. “He has no children, except
for the little girl.”

“A monstrous child,” Susanna said. “I’ve
never seen a child I couldn’t love, except for her…may God forgive
me. She can’t play with other children—she claws and bites them,
and has no respect for anyone. His nephew is too young, only three
or four, scarcely older than the daughter. And almost as bad. At
least he obeys his mother.” Susanna glanced at her husband.
“There’s Claudius. But everybody thinks he’s a fool.”

“He’s far from being a fool,” Paulus
answered. “And considering the choices, or lack of, I wouldn’t mind
seeing him succeed Gaius. He might do well, if he’s let alone.”

“He has always spoken well of you…Antonius. I
think he regrets Caligula’s determination to find you.”

“Thank you for telling me, Flavius. I admit I
haven’t been able to understand Caligula’s interest, either in me
or in finding Alysia, after all this time.”

“You are one of his obsessions. He doesn’t
know you are a believer, so it isn’t that.”

“Obsessions?” Alysia asked, with a quizzical
look.

“Women. Gambling on horses. Then for a while
it was gladiators.” Flavius gave a self-deprecating smile. “And
actors—one in particular. I think he sees your husband as something
of a heroic figure, god-like perhaps. Caligula was present when he
saved Tiberius. He saw him in command of his legion.” He glanced at
Paulus. “You are, in certain ways, like his father. Possibly he
wants to make you prefect of the Guard.”

“A position I’ve turned down before and
wouldn’t hesitate to do so again,” Paulus remarked. “Although
Caligula probably wouldn’t take it as well as Tiberius did.”

“No doubt,” Flavius said drolly. “As to why
he wants to avenge the death of Eustacius after all this time, I
don’t know. Not after all that’s happened since then, in Tiberius’
reign and his own. I suppose he sees it as a matter of upholding
the law. One can’t say
justice
, because he doesn’t know the
meaning of the word. And he only seeks to enforce laws when it is
advantageous for him. He still sees you as an escaped slave,
Alysia. Maybe he wants to make an example of you.”

Susanna reached out to touch one of Paulus’
hands and one of Alysia’s. “Try not to worry…but take care, both of
you. Flavius, there is no need for you to frighten her half to
death. And it is growing late.”

“I know, my dear wife, and you must rise very
early to care for that poor, misbegotten—”

“Oh, we shouldn’t say such things, and I’m
sorry about what I said earlier.” Susanna seemed remorseful. “She’s
just a child. I try to show love toward her, since I can’t
feel
it!”

“She is exactly like her father,” Flavius
answered. “And enough said about that. I’m sorry, but it is a long
way. We must go—we’ll sleep in the carriage on the way.”

“You didn’t frighten me, Flavius, but we
appreciate the warning,” Alysia said, as they all stood up. “We’re
so glad you came.” She linked her arm through her husband’s.
“Please be in prayer for Paulus. He is going to speak in the
marketplace tomorrow—a discussion with the philosophers.”

“Of course we will,” said Susanna with
interest. “And we have delayed you…you probably wanted to spend the
evening in prayer yourselves.”

“There is time, and like my wife I’m very
glad you came,” Paulus said. “May God be with you both.”

“And with you,” Flavius said, clasping his
arm. “But I’m surprised…a public debate, so close to Rome?”

“An opportunity that God provided in an
unusual way, Flavius. What choice do I have but to trust him?”

“Someday,” said his friend, “I hope to trust
him as much as you do.”

CHAPTER XIV

It had been a long time since Paulus had
engaged in rhetoric, aside from the casual speaking form he
employed when teaching. He had, of course, studied it as a youth…it
was required of all young Roman men and was considered an
indispensable skill. As city prefect, he had given his fair share
of speeches, and hated it. Strange that he didn’t mind it when he
was in the army and speaking to his legion…it seemed a completely
different thing, somehow.

He wasn’t quite sure what to expect today. At
least the sky was clear, and there was a cool breeze. He easily
walked the two miles to the marketplace and headed toward the grove
of trees at the far end. He wore a plain, belted tunic—and no
cloak. He had certainly been seen well enough the last time he was
here, and it wouldn’t be to anyone’s advantage for him to stand and
attempt to speak, half-concealed.

The same men were there, and more…standing,
or sitting in wicker chairs or on the tops of wooden crates, and
some even sat in the kind of camping chairs used by the army. There
were a number of other men, and a few women, sitting on the grass
nearby, who were apparently intent on listening.

An older man, with gray hair and a beard,
rose when he saw Paulus approaching. The others stood for a moment
and then resumed their seats; Paulus saw that there was a small
wooden platform in front of them that they obviously expected him
to stand upon. He took his place there and the older man said
hospitably, “Thank you for coming—what is your name, sir?”

“I am called Antonius. I am a visitor, and
will not be long in this region. My thanks to all of you for
allowing me to speak here today.”

“We are honored to have you as our guest,
Antonius. My name is Alexandros. This is Sophus, Timaeus, Isidoris,
Philo…” He continued to call others by name, and they nodded,
eyeing him thoughtfully. “And here is the man you healed, Nikanor,
and his esteemed father. We are all very interested to hear how you
did so.”

Paulus took a breath and thought for a
moment. “Before I begin, I would like to ask Nikanor, and his
father, what their beliefs are, in regard to philosophy and
religion.”

The young man’s father shrugged. “Like many
men, we merely seek wisdom, and truth.”

“What,” Paulus asked, “is truth?”

After a short pause, the father replied, “It
is based on what one has learned in life, through experience, and
revelation. It may not be the same for you as it is for me, or my
son.”

“Doesn’t the word, truth, by its definition,
imply there is only one?”

“There
is
one truth, for each
individual.”

“And you, Nikanor—what do you believe? What
do you think happened to you?”

The young man shifted in his chair. His face
was still gaunt, his eyes shadowed. “Like my father, I sought
wisdom. And the oracles say to—know yourself. I meditated often,
and began to have dreams. A man came to me in these dreams—he was
wise, and kind. I was not afraid. He brought peace to my mind, at
first.”

Paulus asked, “What did this man tell
you?”

“That in order to be wise, I must accept
everything without judgment. I must have no feeling about anything.
This frees me to choose my own path, my own boundaries. To find my
own truth.”

“Do you still believe this?”

Nikanor gave a shrug like his father’s. “Why
shouldn’t I?”

“Then you are in great danger of the same
affliction befalling you again,” Paulus said soberly. “This was not
a man—it was an evil spirit, posing as a guide, or teacher. Do you
recall the possession of your body?”

“It is like a dream. But yes, I recall
it.”

“This was something beyond your ability to
control, wasn’t it? Would you say it was an entity—something other
than yourself, or your own thoughts?”

Nikanor had a pained look on his face. “Yes.
Something—other.”

“Would you call it a force, and if so, a
force for good, or evil?

“A force, yes. Not good. But I don’t believe
in evil.”

Paulus stepped down from the platform, saying
earnestly, “If it is not good, what is it? Did you have a sense
that it cared for you? That it was concerned for your welfare, your
life?”

Nikanor avoided looking at anyone. He spoke
in a strange, flat tone, as if he had suffered the loss of all hope
in life. “The thing—it was more than a force. An entity, as you
said. I felt that it wanted to destroy me. But before it took over
me, the man I saw in my dreams told me I would be a god, that I was
my own god, and I would be joined with the cosmos…to become one
with it.”

“If that happened, Nikanor, would you not
cease to exist—as yourself?”

“I—I don’t know,” came the barely audible
response. “Once, I thought that would be a good thing.”

Paulus walked around the group of men, and
noticed that more people were joining them, sitting further away,
but listening intently.

“Tell me, sirs, what gods do you
worship?”

Philo answered at once, “I believe in the
gods of Rome. They are the same as those of Greece, only with
different names. How could this have happened, unless there is
truth behind them?”

Isidoris said, “I believe in Isis—from whom I
took my name.”

Another man said, “God is in all of nature!
Look at the beauty and wonder of it!”

“But do you worship that, or do you look for
the one who created all things? You have asked about the man in
whose name I cast out the evil spirit—Jesus Christ. He created the
world, he has authority over every spirit, and even all of nature.
He himself said that all authority in heaven and earth had been
given to him.”

Sophus almost got to his feet. “But we have
not established that there is any such thing as evil, and so who is
to say that the spirit within Nikanor was evil?”

Paulus turned to him. “Whether you consider
it evil or not, it obeyed the word of Jesus. Nikanor, you said that
the man who visited you in your dreams brought you peace—at first.
What happened?”

Nikanor sighed and leaned backward. “A
restlessness filled me. I had to sink deeper and deeper into my
thoughts, to find peace. But, if I were honest with myself, I could
no longer call it that. It was just—nothing. Emptiness.”

“I tell you this, Nikanor, and all of you,
that Jesus Christ is the giver of peace, he is the truth, he is the
ruler of nature, and the savior of mankind.”

“Savior?” Philo asked. “What does he save us
from?”

“The punishment for sin. Separation from God
the Father, who is holy and demands holiness—something no one can
attain by himself.”

The man named Timaeus, who was about Paulus’
age and dressed in fine clothes, spoke up with a look of
indignation. “Wait a moment! What are you calling sin? Why should
we not do what we will, as long as it harms no one? How can you
call this sin?”

Before Paulus could answer, the bearded man,
Alexandros, asked, “And who is this ‘God the Father’? Are you
saying there are two gods?”

Paulus looked at first one, then the other.
“Sin is the breaking of any one of God’s laws, Timaeus. And there
is but one God, existing in three persons—Father, Son and Spirit.
All the same, but separate. This is a mystery, even to
believers.”

“And where does this Jesus come in?” asked
Alexandros.

“He is the son of God, who voluntarily came
to earth as flesh and blood, to take on the sins of the world and
to give his life in payment for them—because he remained holy, and
undefiled. This satisfied his Father’s requirement for
justice.”

One of the older men snorted. “How is it
possible for a man to life a perfect life?”

“I don’t know,” Paulus admitted. “But I know
he did, because God accepted his sacrifice, and raised him from the
dead. I don’t have all the answers, but this I can tell you…”

For the next two hours he told them all he
knew of Jesus…what he had learned from Stephen, from John, the
other disciples…what he had seen himself. No one moved; others came
and sat on the grass and listened. Again the spirit of God came to
him, and the words flowed without conscious thought; he saw and
discerned in the faces around him all manner of reactions: doubt,
mere interest, wonder, acceptance—and hostility.

When he had finished, he said, “This is a
simple truth, one simple enough for a child. That God so loved the
world that he gave his only Son—that whoever believes in him would
be saved.”

A silence fell. Paulus went back to the
platform and sat on it, still high enough to be seen by
everyone.

Alexandros stood up. “All of this is very
good talk, young Antonius, but where is the proof of all you
say?”

“Again, the proof that Jesus is who he said
he is—and that he spoke the truth—is inherent in the fact that he
rose from the dead. You will agree, will you not, that he could not
do so—were he not God?”

“I think we can agree on that,” Alexandros
replied easily. “But what proof can you show us that he did
rise
from the dead
?”

“I can declare to all of you that he was seen
by hundreds, including myself, after his resurrection.”

“But that is merely you telling us so,” said
Timaeus. “Forgive me, but I am a lawyer. You say
you
saw
him—was it face to face, and how can you be sure?”

“I saw him at a distance. But others saw him
as close as you are to me—and touched him. A body, not a
spirit.”

“You are asking us to take your word on this,
sir,” Sophus remarked, rather than questioned.

“Not at all. They may not be present, but any
of the eyewitnesses would tell you the same. How many would you
require, Timaeus, to seal your case—a hundred, five hundred? As for
Jesus’ divinity, search the Scriptures and read of the prophecies
concerning the Messiah, and see how Jesus of Nazareth has fulfilled
them.”