The Last Disciple (7 page)

Vitas shrugged.

“But first,” Maglorius said, “let us have a few drinks. I have no intention of going anywhere with a parched throat.”

As the woman continued to trim his hair and the boy continued to apply makeup, Helius listened to the slave with his eyes closed, as if the old slave were a harpist performing a beautiful melody. Yes, that was the picture Helius wanted to present to these three. Total serenity.

“‘Here is a copy of something from the archives,’” the slave began, reading slowly from the scroll. “‘If the emperor Tiberius found this important enough to bring it to Senate vote, then you should be aware of it and end the tribulation you have brought upon the innocent.’”

“That was the portion addressed to Nero?” Helius asked, eyes still closed, speaking as if the scroll were devoid of any significance, as if the cursed Greek graffiti on the back of it were a mere curiosity.

“Yes,” the slave said, almost absently. It was obvious by his concentration on the scroll that he was reading ahead with considerable interest.

“And what comes next is from the archives?” Helius asked. “A matter brought before the Senate by Tiberius.”

“It would appear so,” the slave answered.

“Continue,” Helius said with a wave. “All of you.”

The slave read the rest of it to the audience of Helius and the boy slave and the woman slave. Helius was focused on the contents of the letter and unaware that both the boy and the woman had stopped their attentions to him, so absorbed were they by what they heard. It wasn’t until the slave began to roll up the scroll that Helius opened his eyes and noticed they had listened so intently.

“Fine, then,” Helius said. He was proud of his ability to remain calm. On the inside, he was shaking. If Nero heard of this—

No,
he commanded himself sharply.
Do not think of consequences. Think of what must be done next.

“No one else knows of this scroll except Tigellinus?” Helius asked.

“I was with him the entire time,” the slave answered. “From the moment the young Jew was arrested to our arrival at the palace. Until I read this to you, Tigellinus was the only one to open the scroll.”

Helius stood and addressed all three slaves. “Wait here until I return.” He noticed the puzzled looks on their faces. His hair had not been completely trimmed, nor had all the makeup been applied. “Something I ate disagrees with me,” he said as he left the room and closed the door.

That should have alarmed them. Men like Helius rarely explained themselves to people like them.

Helius found a couple of soldiers down the hallway. “In my chamber,” he told them, “you will find a man, a woman, and a boy. I overheard them discussing a way to murder me.”

Both soldiers straightened. When slaves spoke of murdering their masters . . .

“Yes,” Helius said. “Go in there and cut off their tongues. Immediately. Then drag them to the Tiber and behead them and dispose of their bodies. Say nothing of this to anyone. Especially not to Nero. If he believes there is another plot brewing within the palace, no one will be safe.”

The soldiers saluted.

The last plot against Nero had resulted in a six-month indiscriminate bloodbath.

“It will be done,” the first one said.

“Good,” Helius answered. “Very good. Remember, if I hear any rumors about this, I’ll know who is responsible. And then Tigellinus will see to it that you are punished in the same manner.”

“It will be done immediately,” the second soldier stressed. “And we will say nothing.”

They turned and half walked, half sprinted toward Helius’s chamber and the slave and the woman and the boy who were unaware of how soon and how cruelly their lives were about to end.

Helius let out a sigh.

This, at least, would ensure no one else knew about the scroll. He’d find Tigellinus in the garden, and they would plan a course of action.

Helius touched his face. He did not anticipate this matter would delay whatever fun Nero had planned for them. Helius hoped that enough of his makeup had been applied so he would look decent for the evening’s festivities.

But first he needed to speak to Tigellinus.

In the courtyard, Aristarchus reached for his daughter. His firstborn. The baby he had decided to kill by exposure.

“No,” Paulina wailed.

“It is my right as father,” he said. “You cannot stop me.”

Her sisters could not go to her defense. They knew the father’s place in his household. He could deny the right of the newborn child to be reared. He could choose to sell, kill, or expose the child. And if he chose exposure, he could leave the baby outside the house or in a public place.

“Please,” Paulina said. Exhausted as she was, desperation gave her strength. “Let me keep my child!”

Aristarchus smiled his satisfaction, thinking that perhaps the gods had favored him by bringing to his attention his wife’s secret faith this very afternoon.

“Perhaps I will let you rear it.” He paused.

The baby’s suckling broke the brief moment of silence.

“Renounce this Christos,” he said. “And the baby will live.”

“I cannot.” Paulina began to weep. “He gave His life to spare mine.”

“Then the baby is exposed. Tonight. In the public square outside the temple of Caesar. Beneath divine Nero’s statue. That will let all of Smyrna know that I honor Caesar despite my wife’s foolishness.”

Paulina tried to speak but could not through her broken sobs. She clutched the baby with one arm and stroked her head with her other hand.

“You are all witnesses,” Aristarchus said, arms crossed. “Tell all who will listen. I give this baby as a sign of my allegiance to the divine Caesar.”

“No! No!” Paulina managed to cry out again through her sobs.

“One last chance,” Aristarchus said. “Will you renounce Christos?”

Paulina clutched the baby tighter.

“Trouble!” the midwife said. “She is . . .”

The midwife pointed. Beneath the birthing chair, blood was pooling in a dark, obscene circle.

The sisters hurried to find sheets to stem the hemorrhaging.

“What do you answer?” Aristarchus demanded of Paulina.

She was incapable of answering. She was slumped over the baby, unconscious, her arms still holding her tightly.

“There,” Aristarchus said, “I have spoken. Let it be done as I have commanded.”

Vespera

When she finally found Nathan, Leah expected to see the same despair that she’d seen in the other cells crowded with prisoners as she had peered inside, straining her eyes in the dimness to find her brother.

The prisoners gathered in her brother’s cell, however, were not catatonic or drunk or wailing like those condemned to the arena for murder or robbery or arson. Instead, they were quietly singing hymns as they held hands. They were men and women and children, a dozen of them, making a joyous sound that seemed to brighten the cell as surely as if each had been holding a candle.

Nathan noticed her immediately and rushed away from the group. It was only a couple of steps, and he tried to embrace Leah through the bars.

“Nathan!” Leah began to weep.

“My sister, my sister,” Nathan said, stroking her hair.

It took several moments for Leah to realize that her brother was giving her comfort, when she’d fully expected in this situation that she would have to provide it for him.

He had matured somehow and was different.

“Why are you here?” he said. “You shouldn’t have risked this.”

“The message came that you needed to see Caleb. And he’s . . .”

“Yes?” he said with a trace of his former impatience for life to move quickly. “Where is he? Is everything all right at home?”

She nodded, lying to a loved family member for the second time that day.

It was not all right at home. Their father was furious that Nathan had abandoned the Jewish faith, heartbroken that it would cost his son his life. Caleb, the eldest brother, shared the fury and heartbreak and had valiantly tried to reconcile Nathan with their father in the days after he announced his faith in Jesus of Nazareth as the promised Messiah of the Jews. The few months until Nathan’s arrest had been almost as unbearable as the days that followed it.

“Where is Caleb?” Nathan asked. “I didn’t want or expect you to come here. It’s too dangerous.”

“Caleb has been called by the emperor,” Leah said. She knew it was the opposite, that Caleb had sought the emperor’s ear; he’d taken her into his confidence so they both could lie to their father. And now she passed the lie on to Nathan.

“Called to the emperor? Called? Or arrested?”

Leah frowned, briefly clutching her throat. “No. Not arrested. Caleb has not turned away from our father’s faith.”

Nathan closed his eyes briefly. “I wish so badly that you would understand. It is not turning away from the faith of our fathers. Jesus is the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets and the promises of God.” He opened his eyes. “I’m sorry. You’ve heard me say that many times. I will continue to pray that you and Caleb find this faith.”

Leah did not understand. Here was Nathan. In a horrible cell. Facing a horrible death. And he prayed for others to share his faith? Still, this was not the time or place to engage in the familiar arguments that had torn apart their family before Nathan’s arrest.

She clung to the bars, wanting to hold her younger brother. He was so handsome. So young. He did not deserve to die.

“Nathan,” she said softly, “you sent a message that you needed Caleb. He is now with the emperor. How can I help in his stead?”

“No,” Nathan said. “I want you to go home as quickly as possible.”

“I’m here now.” Leah clenched the bars of the cell. “I refuse to leave unless you let me help.”

Nathan tightened his lips. “Only because it’s so important.”

“Is it something I can bring to you?”

He shook his head. “There are letters in our household. If they are found by the authorities, all of you will be at risk. You need to make sure they are hidden so safely that a hundred searches would not reveal them. If you don’t have the faith, you should not be punished for it.”

“Why not destroy the letters?”

“There are precious few copies. And they are badly needed to comfort the believers in Rome. It is faith in the resurrected Christ that gives us hope through all tribulations.”

She gestured at the prison cell. Helpless. Hopeless. “Even through this?”

He was emphatic and looked her directly in the eye. “We willingly face brandished steel, the lion’s gore, the
tunica molesta
because we follow the Christ and we are utterly convinced that we, like our Master, will one day rise from the grave in resurrected, glorified bodies.”

Leah bowed her head. Rubbed her face. What was it about her brother’s faith that made him so resolute yet so joyful?

She lifted her eyes to his again. “The letters?”

“Someone will come soon for the letters. He will identify himself by showing you a Greek word, and he will tell you this as a password: ‘The lamb that was slain before the foundation of the world shall destroy the beast.’ Understand? Unless he gives you the password and shows you the Greek word, he cannot be trusted.” He continued to speak, more to himself than to her. “We must be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.”

The floor of the cell was dirt. Nathan knelt and used his forefinger to scratch a three-letter Greek word that Leah could dimly see. “Here is the word,” he said. “Remember the symbols, because it is Greek and I know you only read Hebrew.”