The Damascus Way Page 12

  A male voice from far back in the crowd called out, “But you are Judean, and we are Samaritans. We are sworn enemies!”

  “What you say is true enough,” Philip conceded. “And yet the Messiah’s coming has changed all that. Remember the prophet Isaiah’s words? ‘They shall beat their swords into plowshares,’ Isaiah said, and, ‘The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid.’ ”

  Another voice called, “How can that be?”

  Philip pointed to the east, at a lone peak rising above the rooftops. Abigail could see the solitary mountain was high enough for its summit to be rimmed by frost and ice. “Your ancestors worshiped God atop Mount Gerizim, while we Judeans rebuilt the Temple of Jerusalem. And yet Jesus himself told this woman, your neighbor,” he said, gesturing toward the woman standing at the wall by his feet, “that a time was coming when God would be worshiped in neither place.”

  “What the man says is true!” she called.

  Philip held out both arms to the crowd. “The time has come for you to know Jesus yourself, and to learn to worship God in your hearts.”

  A powerful sensation came upon Abigail. An impression so strong she felt utterly isolated from the people crowding about her. Alone in the middle of this great throng. She did not hear further words. She did not need to. Instead, the silent message came clearly and directly to her heart.

  How mistaken she had been! She had resisted leaving Jerusalem for all the wrong reasons. She had claimed it was to remain and serve the poor. And yet so many of those who needed her care had left – the vast majority. Day by day, week by week, she had seen the number of believers dwindle, the poor and the widows leaving for safer places. She had seen this, and chosen to remain closed to what this might mean.

  The real reason she had insisted on remaining was because she had not trusted God.

  She had feared that leaving Jerusalem meant leaving Stephen. And in one way it did mean that. But it also was true that Stephen had already left that city for the heavenly Jerusalem over five years past. Her ties to his beloved memory did not require a place. She had Stephen’s daughter with her. And the gift of the Holy Spirit.

  Further, she had kept herself from serving God in areas where there was even greater need. Just as Philip was doing now.

  Philip was saying, “Our Lord spoke of the harvest to come. That harvest, my brothers and sisters, is here, and it is you! The time has come to cast off the chains of your past and see the truth revealed. The eternal gift is yours to claim. Come now, and accept the Messiah as your own Savior from sin, from eternal death!”

  As many in the crowd surged forward, Abigail dropped to her knees. She could sense the people shifting and moving about her. But her sense of seclusion in her own small space remained. She bowed her head and prayed with such intensity she felt as though her words were not even her own, coming from some place deep within, a place she was not aware of before. Forgive me for not being willing to hear your call until now, dear Lord. But I am here and I am ready. Direct me to where I should next go. Reveal to me how I should next serve you. Grant me the wisdom and the strength to trust you in all things. Wherever you lead. Whatever task you set. Help me, Lord.

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  Tiberias

  Julia felt the shock of what she was hearing send a shiver traveling down the full length of her body. What is the stranger saying? Was he truly proposing that she be the Tiberias link in the chain of underground believer communications? Does he even realize who I am?

  She stepped back a pace, resistance and arguments already forming in her throat.

  But it was Zoe who voiced disapproval, her usually downcast eyes wide with concern and rebuttal. “This is nonsense. Julia is a mere child – ”

  “A woman,” the man shot back, almost hissing the words in his effort to be quietly forceful. “A young woman. Which is precisely why she has been selected. She would never be suspected.”

  “No. No, it is too dangerous.” Zoe pushed Julia behind her with one sweep of her arm. Julia could only stare. Never in her life had she seen the usually compliant Zoe stand up to anyone, let alone a man. “I will not have it.”

  The man took a deep breath, no doubt forcing himself to assume a calmer stance. “I understand your concern. There is indeed danger. In the last weeks three of our couriers have been taken. All men of good standing in our community of believers. Each one was arrested for carrying messages from one group of followers to another. Messages that could have spared injury. Saved lives. But today we have received news of yet another planned raid. If we do not send the warning . . .” He let the words drop, but the thought of what might happen hung heavily in the air between them.

  For a tense few moments there was silence. Julia could see Zoe struggling against her own reasoning.

  When she did not speak, the man continued, his voice trembling with intensity. “We cannot let the communication lines break down. Many lives have been saved because of those warnings. We realize we must choose the messengers with greater care. Men are automatically viewed as suspect and are watched day and night. We do not know who and where the spies are. We expect they work at the bidding of the Pharisee Saul. He appears to have eyes in every city. Every port. Every market.”

  Zoe was shaking her head. “But not my Julia,” she pleaded.

  “She is the merchant’s daughter. She has opportunity to move in and out among the caravans. Her presence would not be questioned. And it is well known that her father is not one of us. He has made his position clear on more than one occasion.”

  Zoe lowered her head, clearly very troubled by what she heard. She pulled at her shawl, drawing it protectively about her face as though to hide from life and its harsh demands.

  “She will be given a contact person,” the stranger pressed. “Carefully chosen as well. He will also be above suspicion. Not a prominent member of our group. Yet one most trustworthy. We are taking every precaution. We have selected him carefully. Now we can only trust the Father. . . .”

  Ah, so he is laying it all in God’s hands, Julia thought. The man was right, of course. What else could they do but trust? Every day was a risk. Spies were everywhere. Charges of misconduct, religious and otherwise, were daily laid against one or another of their community.

  Zoe’s shoulders drooped in resignation. “Nathan, are you sure there is no one else?”

  So Zoe knew the man who stood before them. No wonder she had not been frightened when the man had suddenly appeared as they returned from the market. Julia lifted her eyes. The last rays of the evening sun reflected off the distant walls of the hilltop palace of Herod Antipas, making its outline glow like golden embers. The king was not there and had not been for some time. Where he had gone, few knew, and even fewer cared, but his elaborate residence was a constant reminder of the dangerous man who had founded their town.

  Nathan continued, “No one is better placed. Else I would not have approached you.”

  Zoe sighed again, fear still held in her eyes. Julia thought she saw the glint of a tear as the faithful servant turned toward her. Zoe did not ask the question, but Julia knew it hung between them.

  “Could I . . . may I have some time to think, to pray about this?” Julia’s voice quivered in spite of her effort to control it.

  The man named Nathan nodded. He stepped back a pace. Then moved forward again. His voice was little more than a whisper. “Tomorrow. We can wait no longer.”

  Julia swallowed hard. She had only a few hours to make this decision. A decision that could cost her life, endanger her parents. . . . She felt Zoe’s work-worn hand reach for her own, and she clung to the offered support.

  “The market. The fig stand of Demetrius,” the low voice said. “Be there at full sun.” And without another word Nathan drifted away into the shadows.

  The two women stood, clinging to one another. Zoe said, “Your mother will never hear of such a thing. She – ”

  “My m
other must never know,” Julia said quickly. “It would only bring danger.” She pulled firmly on the sleeve of Zoe’s cloak. “Promise me you will tell no one.”

  Abruptly Julia realized she had already made her decision. And from Zoe’s startled reaction Julia knew that the woman was aware of the same thing. She felt Zoe slump forward as though the strength were slowly draining from her. Like a wineskin that had been ruptured. But she saw the servant nod her reluctant agreement to secrecy even as she raised her shawl to blot her eyes.

  A sudden knowledge hit Julia, leaving her weak with its truth. She was alone. There would be no one to guard and protect her as she went into this venture. Not even the trusted Zoe would be at her side, sheltering her with loving hands when she was troubled, wiping away the tears when she was hurt. Giving gentle advice or encouragement when it was needed. No. She would be alone. Totally alone.

  Even now, Zoe found a way to give her strength. With a shaking hand she reached out to lay it lightly on Julia’s cheek. “You are brave, my little one. May God be with you.”

  The following morning, Julia slowly approached the fig stand of Demetrius. Idly she handled the fruit, casting surreptitious glances into the street and stalls about her. Demetrius himself seemed to be totally ignoring her. He was serving another customer, and as the woman hoisted her basket and turned to go, Demetrius cast one quick glance Julia’s way and gave an ever-so-brief nod.

  When he did approach her it was as a merchant. “May I help you select some produce? The olives are rich in ripeness, the figs are fresh. Which would you like?”

  Julia felt panic fill her being. She had not thought to bring market coins. How could she purchase anything?

  She lowered her head and whispered, “I . . . I neglected to bring money.”

  His voice was also soft. “Next time. For now search in your robe and pretend to withdraw coins. Place them in my hand.”

  Julia did as she was bidden, her cheeks hot with the necessary subterfuge. The merchant made as if to count the money carefully, then placed some figs in Julia’s basket.

  “My wife is inside,” he said, his voice normal, and he nodded toward the back. “She would like to send greetings to your mother.”

  Julia hesitated. His wife had never sent greetings to her mother. Nor did any of the other stall keepers. In fact, she doubted that any of the stall owners even knew her mother. But at his insistent nod she picked up her basket and moved to the curtain that divided the market court from the private quarters.

  It was not the merchant’s wife who greeted her but Nathan. Julia felt her eyes widen. Was this some trick? Was Nathan really who he claimed to be, or was she already caught in the net governed by priestly rule? She hesitated, her eyes quickly seeking some way to escape.

  “Come in,” said the man in a quiet voice. “You must realize that we could not engage you without first testing to see if you can obey orders. You have done well. But you have things to learn. Do not appear to be without purpose. You have been to the markets before?”

  “Many times. With Zoe, our servant woman. Or one of the others from the kitchen. But – ”

  “I understand. You are not the one sent to make the purchases.”

  Julia nodded. “The servants . . .”

  “Of course. Where do you go on your own?”

  She had to think about that. There were few places that she actually went by herself. “Only to see my father.”

  He pondered in silence. At length he spoke again. “We will need Zoe to come to market with you, as usual. You will appear to be helping in the choosing of merchandise. Do you carry a basket?”

  “Often. Yes.”

  “That is good.” He gave a nod. “Now, when you shop, do you carry the coins or does your servant?”

  “I . . . we change about, I suppose. We don’t really think much about it. Sometimes she brings the coins from the kitchen and keeps them. Sometimes she hands them to me.”

  “So the people in the market stalls surrounding us are used to seeing either one of you pay?”

  “I . . . I imagine so, yes.”

  “Now, remember, you must be cautious at all times. Trust no one but the people we direct you to. Come here to Demetrius for all your instructions. He will inform you of where you are to meet and when. But you must never shop at only his stall. Go around the market and make the usual purchases. Do not let your eyes appear to wander about as though looking for someone. You are simply shopping for the needs of a household. Dutifully helping your aged servant. Do you understand what I am saying?”

  Julia swallowed and nodded.

  “That is good.”

  She doubted there was anything good about the arrangement. Could she remember all of the instructions given? Could she follow them? She felt overwhelmed with it all.

  “You are to take whatever Demetrius gives you to the caravanserai. Your contact person will meet you where the animals are kept.”

  “By my father’s camels?”

  “Yes.”

  “But my father is not a follower. And he is very protective of his camels. He does not let anyone near them except for his own drivers and his guards.”

  “We know this.”

  “Are you telling me this man works for my father?”

  He nodded.

  “But that is . . . What if my father discovers him? He would perhaps . . . Is not that a grave danger?”

  “It is exactly as we have planned. That is the last place the spies will look for one carrying a message for the Way. Your father is wealthy, powerful, and totally demanding. And he has no connection whatever with any religious group or sect. He has made that most clear. To quote him, ‘I will abide no such nonsense.’ ”

  “So . . . so you are . . . are using my father?” Julia stumbled over the words.

  “Only as a shield against evil. Only to save lives of people who have done no wrong.” The man handed her a very small cloth-wrapped packet. “This is the only time I will be the one to give you the packet. In the future it will be Demetrius. Do you understand?”

  Julia returned a silent nod as she attempted to swallow away her doubt and fear.

  “Do you remember the instructions? Today you may hide this packet in your robe before you leave. In the future you will remove it from your basket only when it is safe to do so. Visit your father as usual, then the camels. The contact person will meet you there. Your contact will be wearing a red band across his forehead and carrying a basket of medicine for the animals. He will say, ‘The rains have come to Jerusalem.’ Repeat those words to yourself.”

  Obediently Julia did so, her voice low.

  “Then you will respond by drawing the sign of the fish. Like this.” He outlined the simple body of a fish on the ground with one sandal.

  Julia nodded that she understood.

  “Now as you go from here, linger at the entrance for a moment and say a few words as though speaking with the merchant’s wife.”

  To Julia’s utter surprise the man pulled a woman’s shawl over his head and shoulders and followed her to the opening. He displayed only his covered head, the shawl wrapped closely around his face. Julia fought for proper words. “I will certainly tell her,” she finally managed, hoping her voice did not sound as fearful as she felt. “She will be most appreciative.”

  She nodded to the shawl-covered figure, then turned to acknowledge Demetrius as she walked through the stall. To her surprise the man cautiously slipped some coins into her hand and whispered, “Go for further shopping. At the other stalls.”

  Julia crossed to a stall selling spices, finally choosing some ginger. Would she ever understand the workings of this new game she was to play? A game with risks too great to contemplate.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

  Tiberias

  At first light, Jacob dusted himself off as best he could and presented himself outside the entrance to Jamal’s home. He pounded on the gate. When there was no response, he unsheathed his sword from the scabb
ard and hammered with the pommel.

  The servant who finally answered was known to Jacob, at least on sight. A senior servant who had been retired because of infirmity, he remained unwilling to relinquish his authority. So he made do by quarreling with everyone. He and Jacob had hissed at one another previously, but thus far the claws themselves had remained sheathed.

  “What is the meaning . . . ?” His scowl at the sight of a motley donkey drover was terrible indeed. “How dare you disturb the peace of this house!”

  Jacob normally would have overlooked the man’s bluster and simply asked to see the master. But this was no normal situation. He shouldered past the servant. “Out of my way.”

  “You can’t possibly intend to bring those beasts inside!”

  But that was precisely what Jacob intended. He had slept in fitful snatches, guarding the donkeys and the sacks all night long. They would not be left anywhere out of sight. “Awaken the master. Now!”

  “Guards! Guards!”

  The donkeys, made nervous by the man’s cries and by the unfamiliar courtyard, brayed and resisted along with the elderly servant. But Jacob pulled hard upon the reins and led the two across the entry chamber and into the central courtyard. Once the animals smelled the fountain’s water, they came willingly enough. Jacob untied the sacks and set them on the courtyard flagstones. He let the animals drink their fill, stroking their flanks with one hand, while the other held the sword.

  The household guards hovered in the distance, watching Jacob’s flickering blade in the morning sunlight. Sounds came from the chambers surrounding the courtyard as its members awoke to the unusual commotion. Jacob paid no mind. He was so weary he felt that if Jamal did not appear soon, he might actually fall sleep on his feet.