The Hidden Flame (9 page)

"For what?"

"For what, he says. Look at the man. He has not even met the young lady, and already he is thinking of bringing her into his home."

Ezra felt his face grow hot, which only caused Sapphira to laugh. Even his servant hid a chuckle behind his hand. Sapphira took his arm and said, "Come, we are expected."

"You have arranged for me to meet one of the sect?"

"We do not consider ourselves a sect, brother."

"I meant no disrespect. How should I refer to them?"

"Within the gatherings, we now call ourselves followers of the Way."

He heartily disliked hearing his sister claim allegiance to this group, whatever they might call themselves. Ezra hid his grimace by squinting at the sun. "The heat is fierce this afternoon. Shall I order us a cart?"

"It would be unseemly to arrive in such a fashion. Besides, we are going into the old quarter."

Ezra bit back a complaint. The old quarter was how the poorest section of Jerusalem was known. He had not been there in years. He doubted it had improved since his last visit. He motioned to the two sentries standing by the entrance to the compound. "Accompany us."

Sapphira clearly disliked the armed protection, but did not voice objections. Instead she went on, "Among those who do not follow, but who hold us in respect, we are known by the town where Jesus was raised. Nazareth. Nazarenes."

Ezra faltered, leaning against a nearby wall. The word in Hebrew was Hano yee and held powerful significance among religious Judeans. The word signified the highest form of denial of self, rejection of sin, turning away from temptation, and earnestly seeking the Lord.

"Is everything all right, brother?"

"Yes, I'm fine. So you are taking me to the home of one of the leaders."

"The apostles come mostly from the Galilee. They reside here with other followers who have homes in Jerusalem."

This time he could not hide his scowl. To the religious of Jerusalem, the Galileans were only a tiny step above Samar- ians. "Really, sister, this is too much. You have taken up with riffraff!"

Sapphira, unaccustomed to having anyone in her family criticize her ways, turned sullen, and instantly Ezra was taken back to earlier days, when such looks would have melted their parents' hearts. She said, "If you are going to talk to me like that, we may as well turn around and go home."

"Forgive me, sister. That was unnecessarily rude."

"You were the one who wanted this meeting."

"Indeed I was. Tell me more of this group."

Sapphira turned cheerful once more, but her account now was laden with tales of miracles and events which simply made no logical sense whatsoever. She described the group's growth at an impossible rate. She spoke of how people shared what they had, and no one within the community lacked for anything. She related how the Master himself had fed five thousand from a single basket of fish and a few loaves of bread, and how this same miracle often appeared to still happen as daily needs were met.

Ezra could not stop himself from asking, "How much of our family's money have you given to them, sister?"

The sullen pout returned. "We share with those who need."

Ezra guessed that his family's hard-earned gold-gold that his own efforts had increased significantly-was now feeding the poor who flocked to this new sect precisely because there was free food to be had. His food. His gold. No wonder the sect was growing.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

C H A P T E R

SEVEN

THE SCENE THAT EZRA FOUND at the apostles' gathering place was nothing like what he had expected.

There was no swelling crowd of the poor, gathering like crows around anything for the picking, no hordes of beggars grasping for alms. Ezra and his sister Sapphira entered a square like a hundred others in the city, populated with a modest number going about their business. Water in the unadorned central fountain trickled from a simple clay pipe and fell into a narrow trough. The surrounding dwellings were poor but not unkempt. Shutters remained closed against the late afternoon heat. A single donkey ate from a feed sack. A woman filled a clay pot and nodded a greeting to Sapphira before stepping back through high double doors and out of sight.

Sapphira was subdued. "We should not have come."

Ezra was tempted to agree with her. Yet a growing curiosity held him. Sapphira was not unintelligent. Nor was she gullible. She enjoyed buying things at the market stalls, and loved to boast of her new perfumes and brightly colored scarves. But she had never been one of those women who let gold drip through their fingers like water. Something clearly had affected her. The sect must have touched her in a significant manner.

Ezra said, "I will address them with respect."

She showed him anxious eyes. "You truly will do that?"

Again he was impressed by how important this was to her. "I give you my word."

"Come, then." As they passed through the open portals, she said, "This was where the Master appeared after his crucifixion."

Ezra opened his mouth to correct her, but caught himself and merely nodded.

"The room at the top of the stairs was where Jesus celebrated the Passover with his apostles. It was the last meal before he died."

"This was before he returned, do I understand what you are saying?" It was very hard not to object to her preposterous assumptions.

"That is right, brother." She spoke with a firmness that unsettled him even further. "He died and he returned, and then he left us again, so that the Spirit might arrive."

"Where did he go?"

She looked at him, seeking assurance that he was not mocking her. "Back to his Father. In heaven."

Unable to think of a suitable reply, Ezra nodded again, more slowly this time.

"He was taken bodily into the sky. The apostles were there. They saw it happen."

Ezra busied himself with a sweeping inspection of the inner courtyard. It held far more activity than the square beyond the high doors. Yet it also carried a remarkable sense of calm. He saw a scene hearkening back to his earliest days in Jerusalem, when he lived with his teacher's household. Under this scholar's tutelage, he had been both student and servant. His family had paid for his studies, of course, but he had also been expected to work hard, and some of his payment had gone to help impoverished young men of intelligence and promise. Gamaliel had been such a young man, full of passion and fire, though from a very poor background. Which helped explain why Gamaliel had grown to appreciate life's finer things-good food and a nice home and grand robes. All this flashed through Ezra's mind as he surveyed the courtyard.

Perhaps two dozen people, mostly women, were busy with any number of chores. He smelled lamb roasting, seasoned with both garlic and thyme, he was sure. Two tables were being laid out in the shade, as would happen in most religious households where women and children were segregated from the men whenever strangers were present. The women he saw all wore the most modest forms of veils, long shawls wrapped about their shoulders and discreetly covering their lower faces. They clearly were not wealthy, yet neither were there signs of extreme poverty.

What impressed Ezra most of all was the calm-a certain peace, the same impression he had found within his teacher's home and maintained through religious study and prayer and worship. Of all the things he might have expected to find within this new sect, the serenity of his early years was certainly not one of them.

He started at a sudden noisy clatter behind him. Ezra turned, and held his breath at the sight.

A young woman had dropped the armful of wooden bowls now scattered across the ground. The end of her traditional veil had fallen away as she bent over to retrieve them. "Forgive me. I am so sorry for my clumsiness."

"Here, let me help-"

"No, no, sir, you mustn't. I will do this."

Ezra had no interest in doing a servant's duties. He wanted a closer inspection of this woman, to see if his initial impression was correct.

She was even lovelier than he had thought. As she restacked the bowls in her arms, a face of astonishing beauty was revealed. A refined loveliness, and beyond that, an inner strength and contentment that he had not seen in such a young woman before.

Ezra's mission in visiting the compound had changed its focus in an instant. Everything he heard and saw was now sifted through his fascination with the young woman. Every time she came back into view, the rest of the world faded into the distance.

Sapphira looked at him for a long moment, then drew him over to the courtyard's main table and seated him in the shade. She said something indistinguishable to him, then left for a moment. When she returned, whatever she said further also fell upon deaf ears.

Then the young woman was before them with a clay goblet. She held it out, saying, "Here is the cool water you asked for, Sapphira."

Sapphira said, "Thank you, Abigail," and motioned toward her brother.

Ezra took the water and smiled but did not speak. A single man would not respond directly to a maiden in conservative households. But who was to say what rules might govern this place? Ezra tasted the woman's name with the water. Abigail. It rested lightly upon the senses. A good name.

He then saw a slight limp as she departed. The businessman's side of his mind noted that the young woman might be genuinely flawed. A physical imperfection serious enough to cause lameness would be grounds for canceling a marriage contract. The Judean laws regarding this were very clear. A visible defect, particularly one that affected either the face or a person's ability to walk, was considered in the same light as ritual uncleanness. Such a person was forbidden to enter the Temple.

Ezra sipped his water and watched the followers go about their business, constantly searching for another glimpse of the young woman. He dismissed his mental appraisal with a shrug. He simply did not care. He wanted this woman. Her beauty of face and form would surely offset the physical deformity if the physicians had been unable to correct it.

He and his sister stayed as long as was polite. Ezra held back from his desire to speak directly to Sapphira of his new aim.

She waited until they were back on the main avenues to ask, "What did you think of them?"

Ezra paused a moment, then began, "I was wrong in my assumptions."

"You thought they were all beggars who came for free food and shelter."

He glanced over, surprised by her observation. She had not usually been so perceptive.

Sapphira went on, "I know because I thought the very same thing. That they wanted me to join because they knew I was from a prosperous family, and they wanted my money."

"And they do," he shot back.

"But they do not ask." She added, "It is not about the money, brother."

He wanted to argue. But he knew now was not the time. So he turned away from that and said, "The young woman, Abigail. You know her, yes?"

He could see she was attempting to hide a smile. "You astound me, brother."

He curbed his impatience. "Tell me about her."

"She is an orphan."

This was unwelcome news. An orphan was almost as low on the social scale as a freed slave. To be an orphan meant there was no clan to claim her. No wealth or position to back her name. "How did she lose her family?"

"I have heard there was an attack on their caravan. Only she and her brother survived. He is apprenticed among the followers as a carpenter. She initially served in a household that came to know the risen Lord. Now she is part of the community here and serves-

"What about her limp?"

"I have heard there was an accident. She was washing clothes, and hot water ..."

Ezra tuned out his sister's voice. The more he learned, the more he knew he should dismiss all thoughts of this Abigail. The very idea of a merchant of his standing seeking to wed a servant girl, a washerwoman, a member of this rabble sect, was absurd. But he was held by the vision of her lovely face.

"Brother?"

Ezra realized his sister was no longer walking beside him. He turned around to discover she stood by the street to their home. "Do you no longer remember where I live, where you have your office?"

He walked back and said, "I wish for you to speak to her clan on my behalf."

"I just told you, Ezra-the girl has no clan."

"She has been adopted in all but name by this ... this group, yes?" He had almost said sect but caught himself in time. "Speak to the leaders for me."

Sapphira studied him, her expression full of amazement. "You truly seek marriage to this woman?"

He felt his whole being burning with desire. "I own two parcels of land. If you will act for me, one of them is yours this very afternoon."

Sapphira's mouth parted and her eyes stared upward into his. Land inside the city wall was as valuable as a field of precious jewels. "You are serious, brother?"

"The other will be yours the day I wed her," Ezra said. "Now tell me if I am serious or not."