The Last Disciple (15 page)

“I am familiar with it.” Zabad smiled faintly. “This letter was so convincing that because of it, I began to consider Jesus as the Son of God. And after much prayer, the Spirit of God opened my eyes, and I believed. My family and I face death now because of our unshakable beliefs. So I will not dispute you on the veracity of it, and yes, I am familiar with it.”

“Excellent,” Caleb said. “You’ll recall what Matthew testifies about the teachings of Jesus on the Mount of Olives just before His crucifixion.”

“Just before His crucifixion
and
resurrection.”

“Are you avoiding my question?”

“The discourse of Jesus on the Mount of Olives. It took place just after Jesus left the temple grounds. He turned to His disciples and promised them that not one stone would be left on top of another. They were so astonished that they asked Him about it shortly after, as they rested on the Mount of Olives and beheld the glory of the temple.”

“Then you know His answer to their questions about when it would take place, when they asked for signs of His return and the end of the age?” Caleb asked.

“I do,” Zabad answered. “And I am profoundly grateful for it. The end of the age is upon us as Daniel predicted and as Jesus confirmed.”

Helius snorted. “You are suggesting that time will end?”

“Someday, of course, it will,” Zabad said calmly. “But that is plainly not what I mean.
The end of the age
is a common phrase used in our Scriptures in different ways. History easily shows that old epochs end and new epochs begin. Nations come and go. Even the Romans understand that the end of an age does not necessarily mean the end of time. And I am telling you that an evil era is about to end with the destruction of the temple and the ruling establishment in Jerusalem that rejected Jesus as the Son of God.”

“Very well,” Helius said, showing a flare of irritation. “Perhaps we can move on from debating terms.”

“Something this important is not merely a debate of terms,” Zabad told Helius. “With the death and resurrection of Jesus, a new age is upon us. One that does not require sacrifices at the Temple Mount. The covenant between God and Israel was broken with the rejection of His Son.”

“Only if Jesus,” Caleb countered, “as you claim, is the Messiah.”

“He is,” Zabad said. “Jesus has renewed and fulfilled the covenant between God and Israel, and now God calls all people everywhere to repent and believe the Good News that Jesus is Lord of all.” Zabad turned to Helius again. “He calls you, too, to enter into His covenant.”

“As I made clear, I am not interested in debated terms.” Helius’s irritation verged on rage. “And I am certainly willing to call only Nero divine.” Helius pointed at Caleb, who had stopped pacing. “You have stretched my patience. I want proof that Jesus was a false prophet. Give me a good reason not to call in a soldier to behead you.”

One lion burst onto the sand, forced out from the chambers below the stands by a slave armed with a torch. Then another lion. A third. And fourth. More and more. In mannerisms, they were like mice scattering from lifted straw, but in appearance, they were monstrous beasts that caused women in the crowd to faint from anticipation of bloodlust.

The lions ran in confused circles. Several tried to jump up the walls, scattering the spectators who were leaning over for a better look. Several of the young males bumped into each other, which resulted in snarling fights as they rolled over each other in a savage display of pure rage.

The lions had yet to notice the cluster of men and women in the center, for the Christians remained motionless. Leah knew—only because she’d heard the bestiarius explain it to the prisoners—that the prisoners should silently separate and move slightly to let the lions know they were living prey. The bestiarius had also been careful to explain that if they remained clustered, it would intimidate the lions. Just as if any of the women in the cluster began to scream, it would actually frighten these wild lions, who were already amply confused by the sights and smells of the arena.

One lion began to dig in the sand, perhaps smelling the blood of a previous victim. Another lion began to stalk a nearby lioness.

Because there was no action, a few boos began from the crowd.

Leah faced the most difficult decision of her young life. She had to choose between prolonging her beloved brother’s life or sending children into slavery.

Intellectually, she knew what choice she had to make. Because there was no choice. Her brother was going to die, whether it was in five minutes or thirty. If the children didn’t go into slavery, they too would face the lions.

Yet her heart could barely take the strain, and her intellectual decision seemed meaningless against the emotions that overwhelmed her.

How could she do what she needed to do?

“Homer returns.” Damian spoke wryly as he looked up from reading a diptych
.

“You’re alone?” Vitas asked. Four slaves accompanied him. “What of your women—?”

Damian gave a wave. “You certainly know how to spoil a party. Titus heard enough of what happened out there to stagger after you. And all the moaning from our fallen gladiator hero spoiled the mood even more. I sent everyone away.”

“Too bad,” Vitas said, grinning. He gave instructions to the slaves to move Maglorius outside to the litter they had carried to the villa.

“Where’s Titus?” Damian said, frowning at the activity. “Where are you taking Maglorius?”

“Titus caught up with me just after I’d completed negotiations with the treasurer,” Vitas answered. “He’s waiting down at the ship for you and me to arrive with Maglorius.”

At the movement of the four slaves, the swallows in their wicker cage fluttered with panic.

“Easy now,” Damian said to the birds in a soothing voice. “Easy. This will be over soon enough.” He shot a frown at Vitas. “It will be over soon enough, correct?”

“Certainly,” Vitas replied. “I doubt you have much to pack.”

“I cannot leave Smyrna,” Damian said. “The gladiator’s vow . . .”

“Such a sense of honor,” Vitas observed with an ironic smile. “I can tell you, brother, that I love you for it. You are nearly a perfect man, except for your weakness for gambling.”

“Honor?” Damian rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Have you any idea how relentlessly a man is pursued if he forsakes the vow? And his fate is far, far worse than anything that might happen in the arena.” He tossed the diptych at Vitas. “Here, this belongs to Maglorius. He’ll want it if he lives.”

Vitas weighed the diptych in his hand, curious about it for natural reasons.

Ink on leaf tablets—thin sheets of wood with tie holes that allowed a cord to keep several sheets together—were used for most correspondence. But a diptych contained thicker pieces of wood filled with beeswax on which the writer used a stylus to scratch out the words. Much more expensive than leaf tablets, diptychs were normally used for important documents, legal documents. Why would a gladiator receive such a document?

Vitas gave it a closer look. “The seal is broken.”

“Of course.”

“You broke it?” Vitas asked.

“As soon as the messenger departed.”

“Some might decide it was illegal and immoral and—”

The slaves had taken Maglorius away. It was just Vitas and Damian and the cage filled with swallows.

“Relax, my brother,” Damian said. “Maglorius gets me to read everything for him. He’s a savage tribal warrior, remember? And that—” Damian pointed at the diptych—“that is a heated love letter. Very amusing. Not only is the woman in love with him, but she’s married.”

“Not interested,” Vitas said. “Spare me the details.”

Damian flashed his rogue’s grin. “The woman begins by expressing her undying love for Maglorius that she’s had even before I took the gladiator’s vow.”

“Enough,” Vitas said. “This is no business of mine.”

“Given her husband, I think you’d want to know more.” Damian paused.

“All right!” Vitas grinned back, knowing his brother had been toying with him. “Who?”

“Lucius Bellator. His wife, Alypia, is in love with Maglorius. And has been for the last five years.”

“Bellator! His family has been around since the founding of Rome! He’s just been given a plum political office. He’s to be transferred to Judea to oversee the collection of taxes there. As if he weren’t rich enough already.”

“Am I right?” Damian asked. “Would you have not eavesdropped? and read this letter?”

“I would have been tempted,” Vitas said. But not tempted enough. He had the diptych now and would ensure that no one else looked at it but Maglorius.

“Let me tell you more then,” Damian said. “She tells of her love and begs him to return safely, for she declares that enough time has passed that she could move him into the household as a bodyguard without arousing the suspicion of her elderly husband. Furthermore, she is finally able to reveal to him something of great importance. . . .”

“No,” Vitas said firmly. He felt some guilt already at indulging in the gossip thus far. “I have little time and important news of my own for you.”

“But really, it’s too much! The fact that Maglorius has been unaware of—”

“No!”

Damian shrugged. “Have it your way.”

“I’ll see he gets it,” Vitas said. “I expect someone as hardy as Maglorius to recover fully.”

“Where’s some wine?” Damian asked. “I’ve done my best to forget that I’ve lost my protector in the arena today. All this talk about Maglorius reminds me what’s going to happen when I face the lions.”

“Aren’t you curious why I would come to Smyrna?”

“As the kind and decent older brother, I’m certain you are here to ensure the return of my mangled body to Rome, as unaware as the rest of the world that I had purchased the protection of Maglorius. Of course, with him nearly dead, the purpose of your visit will, ironically enough, be fulfilled. And once again, the world will see that you’ve acted wisely.”

Damian grinned. “Won’t complain though. No one else but me was responsible for the gambling debts that forced me to take the gladiator vows.”

Vitas knew his brother well enough to understand that this forced cavalier attitude was an outer protection. Yet Vitas was not ready to give his brother the news that had brought him to Smyrna.

Vitas stepped past him. “Tell me about these birds.”

Damian coughed and ignored the question. “Vitas, I’m sure it is for Father’s benefit that you are undertaking this chore. Be sure to tell him that I do not blame my bad choices on him or the way he raised me. After all, look at you. A son to be proud of under any circumstances.”

“Damian.” Vitas spoke very, very softly. “Our father is dead.”

“Proof that Jesus was a false messiah,” Caleb echoed Helius. “I will give you proof. In the words of Matthew, Jesus said this: ‘I assure you, this generation will not pass from the scene before all these things take place.’” Caleb pierced Zabad with a stare. “Is this not in the scroll?”

“That, and more.” Zabad nodded and quoted from memory. “‘Don’t let anyone mislead you. For many will come in my name, saying, “I am the Messiah.” They will lead many astray.’”

Zabad drew breath to continue quoting Jesus, but Caleb interrupted and spoke to Helius. “Before he makes his point, I will admit there is truth in these prophecies of Jesus. I’m sure you are aware of Theudas, who persuaded a great number to follow him to the Jordan and promised he would divide it for their passage. And of Dositheus, the Samaritan, who pretended he was the lawgiver promised by Moses. And of the many false messiahs under the procuratorship of Felix.”