Hot sun poured down on the dusty road leading out of the village. Not a breeze ruffled the grasses browned by the heat and leaning at precarious angles along the path. Mountains in the distance were shimmering with haze.
A young girl stood on the path just beyond the village well. She was tall and slender, not quite a woman yet, but certainly well past childhood. Her face was arresting with arched brows over deep set dark eyes. Her skin glowed with youth and vitality complemented by a white tunic and red sash. Strands of long dark hair strayed from under her red headscarf.
She raised a hand to her forehead and scanned the path. Shaking her head, she turned and walked back into the village.
“Dorcas, Dorcas.” An older woman, bent and frail, hobbled toward her, a stout stick gripped in her gnarled hand. Blue veins on the backs of her hands were swollen and unattractive, but she smiled as she approached Dorcas, her ample nose almost touching her lips.
“Grandmother, you shouldn’t be out in this heat. Why aren’t you resting until it’s cooler?” Dorcas took her arm when she reached her, moving slowly to accommodate her pace.
“I needed to see you, it’s important.” Her lips clamped together over sunken gums as she threw a glance at Dorcas.
“What could be so important that it couldn’t wait until later?” She drew her grandmother closer to her, tilting her head down to where she could look into her eyes.
“Can we stop and sit?” She indicated a stone bench under a shade tree, one of the few in the village.
“Of course, Grandmother.” Dorcas guided her to the bench and helped her sit then eased herself down beside her.
The noonday sounds, so familiar to Dorcas, simmered in the still air. The buzz of insects, a bird chirp, the creak of the wooden bucket being pulled up from the well, a goat bleating in the distance; all spoke of home. She swept her hand over her brow to ease the warmth.
“Dorcas,” Grandmother Sarah turned her face to look up at her, “I’m an old woman now. No one listens to me anymore or consults me although once I held an important position among the women of this village.” Thin hands rubbed at her blue robe as she talked. “But I still hear and still listen.”
“And have you heard something important that I should know?” Dorcas tried not to smile but her lips kept slipping upwards.
“Yes, yes I have.” Her hands were now tapping out a rhythm on her robe, stiff fingers unbent showing enlarged knuckles. “I heard your father talking to old Benjamin, talking about you.” She shifted her position and looked up at Dorcas. Watery tears were sliding down the wrinkles to rest on her chin.
Dorcas opened her eyes wide. “And what were they saying about me?”
Sarah swallowed twice, never taking her eyes off Dorcas’s face. “That you were ready for marriage and that Benjamin would offer a good bride price.”
“Benjamin,” Dorcas licked her lips, “he’s an old man, a very old man, and ugly too.”
“Yes, and cruel. I knew his first wife well. We were close friends. Very sad.” Sarah lowered her head over her restless hands.
Swinging around on the bench, Dorcas grasped the hands. “Grandmother, what do you mean by sad?”
Sarah gripped Dorcas’s hands in hers. “She died.”
“Yes, she died years ago. I know that.” Dorcas’s eyes roamed across Sarah’s face. “What are you saying, Grandmother?”
“I cannot tell you more, only you can’t marry him.” She sat back on the seat covering her eyes with one hand. Her breathing was rapid, coming in short gasps.
“But Grandmother, what choice do I have? You know that Father’s decisions are final and Mother will not speak against him.” She slipped to the ground and put her head in Sarah’s lap. Sarah patted the red scarf.
Nighttime came to the village. Her father had returned just before the evening meal speaking to no one. Dorcas watched him and wondered. She had waited for him before her talk with Grandmother, but after, she wanted to avoid him. He now sat hunched on the dirt floor of their hut, knees pulled up under him and arms wrapped around his knees. His eyes seemed to be staring off at some distant place where his family could not go. He rose abruptly and without speaking to anyone, left the hut.
Mother looked after him, arms folded over her tunic, lips pressed in a tight line. She turned her gaze on Dorcas. “It’s time you were settled in for the night.”
Her mother spoke very few words. Dorcas had often wished she could really talk to her, tell her what she was feeling, ask her questions; but the welcome wasn’t there. Like all the girls in the village, Dorcas obeyed her mother. A little alcove held her pallet and her few belongings. The small opening above her head provided her only view of the night. Stars were visible and she watched them a long time. She heard her father return and a sharp exchange of words between her parents took place.
Dorcas gasped and leaned against the wall at her back. “No father, no, no.”
A sharp slap resounded in the room. She touched her face, her eyes widening in shock. The sting from the slap was intense, but the anger she saw in her father’s eyes caused her to cower. Her body slipped to the floor and she curled up in a tight position, both hands guarding her face. She sobbed, wildly, out of control until her father stepped in front of her.
“Dorcas, look at me.” He leaned over her, tugging at her hands. His voice lacked sympathy. “Now, Dorcas; or you’ll feel the force of my hand again.”
She spread her fingers apart and stared at him. He jerked her hands down from her damp face.
“No daughter of mine will defy me.” He grasped her jaw. “Do I make myself clear?” A ruddy hue covered his face above his dark beard now streaked with gray. “Consider yourself fortunate that I don’t have you stoned.” He dropped his hand from her jaw turned on his heels and strode from the hut.
His departure left a tense silence behind. Dorcas’s eyes searched the room focusing on her mother crouched in a far corner.
“Mother,” Dorcas moaned the word, “Mother.” She reached out her hand surprised to see it tremble.
Leah looked up, frown lines gathering between her eyebrows. She raised herself from the floor and approached her daughter. When she was directly in front of Dorcas, she leaned over so she was looking directly in her eyes.
“Make no mistake, daughter. You have shamed your mother and father today.” She ground her teeth together so her words came out in a hiss. “It is not for you to decide who is or isn’t right for you to marry. In this family, your father makes those decisions.” She stood to her full height and folded her arms across her robe. “Never forget, you are a woman.” She turned her back on her daughter and grabbed her water bucket. Without a backwards glance, she followed her husband.
Dancers swirled around the bride and groom seated in the center of the village market area. Bright robes blended with red and blue turbans as the dancers swung away from the center into the noisy crowd. Barefoot maidens banged their tambourines in a rhythmic beat while the haunting sound of lyres and kinnors mingled with the shouts and cheers of the wedding guests.
Dorcas sat still and straight. Her veil shielded her eyes from curious onlookers. Her husband sprawled beside her, a cup of wine spilling down his embroidered wedding robe. His shouts of laughter rose and fell amidst the revelry. Dorcas folded her hands carefully in her lap so her mother wouldn’t see the tremor. She knew her mother was watching her.
She doesn’t need to worry. I won’t disgrace her or shame my father. I’ll bear whatever is necessary. She was unaware that her hands had tightened so that white showed on her knuckles.
“Dorcas, we need to dance.” The words were slurred as he pulled on her hands to lift her from her chair. “Every new husband must dance with his wife. Come, people are waiting for us.” His speech was accompanied with loud bursts of laughter.
The cup of wine spilled out its contents on the hard dirt as he dragged her into the milling guests. She saw the wine and thought how this represented her; spilled out for her family.
The clamor of voices and music intensified as the darkness clustered around the dancers. The fire leaped into focus as the night darkened, snapping and spewing its flames skyward. Wine flowed and food simmered in pots hung over the coals at the edge of the flames. The scene was rich with colors and pungent aromas. Nostrils flared as the spicy fragrances enticed the wedding guests to sample the trays being carried by the young boys.
Would this night never end? But do I want it to end? The worst is yet to come. Dorcas moved stiffly through the dance routines, always aware of watching eyes.
And she had been right. The worst had come when she was finally alone with her groom. Today she sought her grandmother. The tree beyond the well was often the place her grandmother chose to rest. Crossing the open area from the huts, she could see her resting on the bench again.
“Grandmother,” Dorcas waved and hurried toward her. The bench was warm beneath her as she slid in beside her grandmother. She was alarmed by her grandmother’s pale face and watery eyes.
“Are you not feeling well?” Their hands met and clasped together on Sarah’s lap. Her fingertips were cold to the touch, further troubling Dorcas.
“I’m a little tired today, that’s all,” she patted Dorcas’s hands with her lined ones. “I’ve heard rumors.” Her lips were folded together in a tight line.
Leave it to her grandmother to hear all the gossip, Dorcas smiled to herself, not much misses her sharp mind.
“Rumors?” Dorcas rubbed a hand gently over her grandmother’s. How she loved this woman. She waited for her to speak.
“I think you know the rumors.” She suddenly tightened her grip on Dorcas’s hands. “He’s everything we’ve heard, isn’t he.”
It was a statement, not a question. Dorcas felt her shoulders tense and a shiver slide down her spine. “Yes.”
“What are you going to do?”
Dorcas lowered her head and clenched her teeth together. With eyes tightly shut she pondered her grandmother’s question. What can I say to her? With a deep sigh, she opened her eyes and turned her head to look directly into her grandmother’s waiting eyes.
“Do? What could I possibly do? I’m married to him for life.” She scanned the groups of people visiting the market stalls. The sharp cries of the vendors mingled with the angry shouts of women haggling for bargains. Dust swirled as small bare feet stomped the ground in children’s play. She forced her eyes back to Sarah’s.
Watery tears pooled in wrinkles on her face. “Oh Dorcas. I would do anything to help you.”
“I know, Grandmother.” She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around the frail shoulders. “It will all work out.” She straightened and wiped Sarah’s tears with a small square of cloth. “I’ve come to tell you something; something important.”
“Is it . . .” A gleam lit up Sarah’s eyes.
“No, no, grandmother. No baby.” A dimple appeared to one side of her lips as she grinned at Sarah. “Benjamin must go to Ephesus and I’ve persuaded him to take me.” The dimple danced as she watched her grandmother.
“Dorcas, are you sure this is a good idea?” She gripped her grand-daughter’s arm in her claw-like grasp.
“Oh yes. It’s exciting. I’ll see the city my father talks about; I’ll visit the marketplace which makes this one seem like nothing.” She stood and twirled around once. “It’ll be the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me.”
The dark eyes suddenly clouded. “But, I’ll miss you, really I will.” A soft kiss was planted on Sarah’s rough cheek. “I want to know what I can bring back for you.”
“Just bring yourself back safely, that’s all I care about.” Sarah tugged at her arm and Dorcas sat beside her again. “When do you leave?”
“At first light. I’m already packed and I’m sure I won’t sleep a wink tonight.”
First light had been many hours ago. Dorcas tried not to doze as the donkey plodded along. The hard-packed earth on the path seemed to kick back at her with each placing of a hoof beneath her. Her bones ached, but her heart sang. The cries of kites drew her attention and she watched as three circled and dipped in the morning sunshine.
Up ahead she could see her husband’s turban bobbing as he spoke with his companion. Business matters, no doubt, she mused as she watched him. Thankfully once they were on the trail, he completely ignored her. Their party was made up of five donkeys as well as three servants on foot. Saddle bags groaned with the weight of items to barter.
One other female was included in the group, Martha. A distant cousin of Benjamin’s; widowed, wrinkled, bitter, and cruel. At least that’s what came to Dorcas’s mind when she observed her. I’ll need to watch what I say as I’m sure every comment will be relayed to my husband.
The journey was long but Dorcas enjoyed every moment and when the gates of Ephesus appeared on the horizon, she shivered with excitement. The cousin drew her brows together in a frown and looked at her from lowered brows. Dorcas glanced at her but refused to be daunted by her displeasure.
More travelers converged on the road which quickly became congested. Animals and humans shared the space ungraciously as businessmen pushed ahead to reach the gates while herds of sheep and goats spilled into every available space. Whips lashed out at people and animals alike as the open gates loomed.
Dorcas loved the scene, laughing at the antics of the goats while her donkey was nudged aside by the traffic. The stern cousin stayed close by her side while the others in their party were swept ahead.
Shouts caught Dorcas’s attention and she watched with horror as her husband and servants were set upon by an angry group of travelers. Swords flashed as shrieks pierced the air. A small caravan eased itself in front of her and she was unable to see what was happening as camels and riders surged into the opening, moving her to one side.
Martha grabbed the bags on Dorcas’s donkey and held on as they were forced along with the throng. They were able to pull to the side when they reached Benjamin and the servants. Dorcas slid from the donkey and stood with both hands over her mouth as she gazed at the bodies strewn on the ground before her. Martha knelt beside Benjamin. When she looked up at Dorcas, her face was twisted in grief.
“He’s dead, Dorcas. Don’t come any closer. There’s nothing we can do for him or any of the others.” She gave Dorcas a push toward the donkeys.
“We need to keep going. Someone may be watching and want to kill us as well. Follow me.” She waved over her shoulder for Dorcas to follow and the two women entered the city.
Dear Reader: You will meet Dorcas when you read Antipas: Martyr. Her life looks hopeless now, but it does not end and there is happiness as well as difficulties ahead for her.
Rufus
Dust drifted in little eddies along the path outside the village. Warm rocks to the side of the trail made good breeding places for small birds. Chirps could be heard coming from the concealed nests. Rufus kicked the dust with his bare feet sending it in a shower over the dog ahead of him. The dog shook his shaggy coat and sneezed.
“What’s the matter Geezer, don’t you like dust?” Rufus sent another spray over his back. The dog gave one look over his shoulder before setting off at a running pace. Rufus laughed, holding his sides, before he gave chase to the dog. Bare feet and thick paws pounded the dirt in unison. They arrived in the village, panting from their run.
Maria looked up from the vegetables she was peeling while sitting in the doorway of their hut. “Rufus, what are you panting about?” She shook the short knife she was using at him. “Your father’s been looking for you. You’re late with the sheep again.”
Rufus didn’t bother to answer her as he turned down the pathway beside their hut. He could see his father in the field struggling with a sheep who was protesting vigorously. As he drew closer, the wailing intensified.
“Father what’s wrong?” Rufus ran the last distance throwing himself down over the sheep to keep her still. The ewe thrashed beneath him until he grasped her head and talked softly.
“She’s having trouble with the lamb. It just won’t come.” Proctor continued to probe in the depths of the sheep. “I can feel a hoof. That’s a good thing. Hold her steady while I pull it out.”
The heat of the day sizzled as man and boy sweated over the ewe until a fuzzy little head and body appeared. The mother gave a welcoming blat to her baby then began the thrashing process all over again. Father and son grabbed her and held her still.
“Well I’ll be. I think there’s another one coming.” Proctor straightened, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and leaned over the sheep again. Quickly this time a second little lamb was born. The ewe gathered them close and began to lick their faces. Father and son moved away.
“I never get over the sight of a new lamb.” Proctor stood back adjusting his robe which was covered with dirt and grass. “Let’s go, son. We need to clean up.”
Rufus lowered the bent bucket into the village well pulling up the cold water. He handed the first bucket to his father who scrubbed himself clean before joining his wife in the doorway. Rufus then lifted a second one for himself which he poured over his head. As the cold water slid down his body, he shivered with delight. He dried himself with a piece of cloth his mother had given him turning to watch the children playing a game in the dirt. Smudged faces grinned and shrill voices filled the air.
These were the sounds of home. “The village, my whole world.” Rufus looked out over the dirty lane, across the fields, and up the sides of the mountains. “I know it’s beautiful, but I long to see what’s beyond those mountains.” With his eyes shaded by his hands he tried to imagine walking up and over them. “What would I see?” He turned away shaking his head slowly. He ran his fingers through his dark curls which were drying in the intense sunlight, rubbing vigorously to get out the last of the dampness.
When he turned again, he could see someone walking along the path toward the village.
“Father, come quickly, there’s someone on the path.” Rufus jumped up and down to see farther.
“What’s all the noise about?” Proctor emerged from the shade of the hut into the sunshine. He too shaded his eyes from the brightness.
“Someone’s coming. Look.” Rufus pointed toward the path, excitement filling his voice.
“It’s probably one of the shepherd boys coming in early.” Proctor waved his hand at Rufus and turned to re-enter the hut.
“No, it’s not a villager. Look at his clothes.” He grabbed his father’s arm, bringing him back where he could see the path. “Even from here you can tell his robe is purple. No one here has a purple robe.”
“You’re right son.” Proctor scratched his head as he stared at the stranger approaching. “Now who would be coming here? No one ever does.”
“Hail friends.” The stranger raised his hand as he approached the two.
“Hail to you. What brings you to our village?” Proctor inclined his head to the stranger.
“I think I took the wrong path once I left the last village.” He pointed back down the path as he lowered his pack to the dirt with a sigh. He leaned heavily on his stout stick.
“Then you must stay the night. Some from the village may know the way you seek.” Proctor led him to the entrance of his hut where Maria stirred the pot over the fire. They sat around the fire where others soon gathered.
The stranger introduced himself as Lucius. Introductions were made all around the circle of villagers as they ate. Ragged homespun robes mingled with the fine purple. Dusty bare feet made room for leather sandals that graced manicured feet. But the wide eyes of the villagers stared without guise as the stranger in their midst shared their fire and simple fare.
The women and children disappeared into the huts soon after the meal and the men settled around the fire, some on logs, others sitting on the ground. Without the blazing of the day sun, the fire spread its warmth around the circle. Flames shot into the night sky with bursts of ash clinging to their tails.
Rufus sat near the fire listening to the men talk. He drew up his knees, circling them with his arms, and rested his chin. As he listened, his eyes glowed bright from the fire. The cooling evening air made no impression on him as his mind was roaming the paths of the forbidden world as Lucius talked of events happening outside the village. Tales were told of another life and of other places.
One by one the men left the fire to return to their huts. Morning came early for these mountain people. Rufus hung back, hoping to talk to the stranger. He sat watching as the smoldering fire sent streamers of smoke rising into the night sky. An occasional flare leapt from the glowing logs. Rufus loved the snap of the fire as the wood was consumed. Dreams could be made while watching the sway of the flames.
“I’ve been observing you all evening.” Lucius stood before him, hands on his hips. Rufus looked up into the eyes of the man before him.
“I think you may be the person I’ve been looking for.” Rufus’s mouth fell open and he blinked twice. “I . . . I . . .” He jumped to his feet brushing the dust from his tunic. Wide eyes stared at Lucius.
“Would you be interested in traveling with me as my servant?” Lucius raised his eyebrows as he inclined his head toward Rufus.
In the sudden silence, night birds called to each other, branches creaked in the evening breeze. The light from the fire seemed to dance in the stranger’s eyes and throw grotesque shadows on the huts behind him. Rufus dug his toes in the soft earth, eyes on the ground. His mind swirled with bright visions and dark fear. At last he looked up.
“I’d really like that.” Rufus grinned at him as he wrapped his robe around him. “I’ve always wanted to see what’s beyond our hills.”
“What will your parents say?” Lucius leaned over and spoke softly. His eyes held Rufus’s.
“I don’t think they’d let me.” He glanced down again watching his toes describe circles in the dust. When he once again met Lucius’s eyes, his were clear. “But please, I want to go.” Rufus joined his hands in front of him as he waited the answer.
“Then, we’d better not tell them.” Lucius nodded his head while placing his hand on Rufus’s shoulder. “We’ll need to leave well before dawn. Can you be ready?”
“Oh yes, I’ll pack my bag and join you by the fire once my parents are asleep.” Rufus jumped over a log and ran toward his hut. His heart was bursting with excitement.
“I’m going to see the world.” The thought kept dancing round and round in his head as he ducked to enter the hut. It was very quiet inside. His mother and siblings would have been asleep long ago and his father usually fell asleep quickly as a shepherd’s day started early.
Rufus had few belongings, but these he carefully tucked in his shepherd’s pouch. He slipped from the hut as the moon was just appearing over the horizon. The soft silvery shaft illuminated the front entrance in stark outline. He had a moment of regret but quickly swallowed the feeling. This chance was all that he had ever dreamed.
The night was eerie with a soft glow from the dying fire and the moonlight etching the trees with silver. Lucius appeared to be sleeping when Rufus settled down beside him.
“Welcome Rufus, I’m glad you didn’t change your mind.” His voice coming out of the darkness added to the mystery of the night. Rufus spread his blanket beside him and was soon asleep on the rough ground. He awakened when Lucius gently shook his shoulder and indicated it was time to leave. They hoisted their packs and without a sound, left the sleeping village behind. Rufus never looked back once they passed the well on the outskirts.
They traveled a good distance before the sun rose gloriously in the east. Rufus had never seen a more beautiful sight as streaks of gold streamed across the sky. He stopped to stare and absorb the morning of his first day away from his former life; he wasn’t afraid, just curious and excited with anticipation.
“What are you thinking, Rufus?” Lucius leaned on his walking stick and smiled at him.
“Just trying to see everything at once.” Green slopes gentled away from the path into deep valleys which abruptly thrust long arms into the sky. He turned in a complete circle, arms stretched wide before he moved toward Lucius, adjusting the pouch slung over his back to a more comfortable position. “And, I was thinking how hungry I am.” He rubbed his stomach and grinned.
“Then it must be time to eat.” They broke their fast overlooking a sunny valley with a gurgling brook close by.
The villagers, too, were watching the morning sky as they began their daily chores. In Rufus’s home, Proctor had left the hut several minutes before Maria awakened. She rose, being as quiet as possible to let the children sleep longer. One by one they joined her as she pounded the grain heads and boiled them in water over the fire that was still spreading its heat before the hut. She stirred the mixture as steam escaped into the quiet morning air.
“Where’s Rufus?” Mother pointed her wooden spoon at the last one to arrive.
“He’s not here. Maybe he left with father.” The child stretched and yawned, dropping to the ground beside his brother. The two nudged each other with sharp elbows and grinned.
“You’re probably right. Stop your foolishness and use some of that water in the basin and get yourself awake.” She turned to face the others. “All of you.” They scampered away to do her bidding.
The meal was ready by the time Proctor had completed his early morning work with the animals. Maria carried the pot carefully from the fire. Proctor entered the hut and greeted his family.
Maria looked behind him, her brows drawn together. “Why isn’t Rufus with you? Is he still with the animals?” She put the pot down on a low stool.
“Rufus? Isn’t he here?” Proctor looked from one to the other as he washed his hands and then splashed his face with the water left in the basin. Mother handed him a rough cloth which he used to scour his face dry.
“Maybe he went with Jonus.” Maria shrugged her shoulders as she broke the bread she had baked earlier.
“That’s likely it.” Proctor nodded his head, his lips in a thin line. “He’s done that before. Jonus doesn’t like leading the goats up the mountain by himself.”
“He’s done it several times before.” Maria was smiling now as she ladled thick porridge into the wooden bowls Proctor had carved.
It wasn’t until night that the family realized he was missing.
“I’ll check with the others. Maybe someone knows where he is.” Proctor rubbed a hand over his graying beard, lines of worry etched on his forehead. “This is not like him.”
“You ask the men and I’ll check with the women.” Maria wiped her hands and set aside the basin she was using to prepare the meal. The two left the hut moving quickly.
“No, I haven’t seen him since last night. Didn’t he stay at the fire after we left?”
“No, he didn’t go with me. I asked him, but he said he couldn’t go today.”
“Not since last night.”
“Maybe he wandered off for the day and will be back soon.”
The two heard the same reply everywhere. No one had seen Rufus. Proctor approached the last hut where his uncle sat outside on his stool.
“Have you seen Rufus today?”
“Rufus? Today?” Uncle squinted his eyes up at Proctor. “Can’t you find him?”
Proctor related all the replies to his uncle. His uncle scratched his head, nodding it slowly.
“He’s gone off with that stranger, that’s my guess.” He pursed his lips while still nodding his head.
Proctor gasped as his eyes widened. “I never thought of that.”
“You can’t trust strangers, my boy.” He shook his finger at Proctor, still shaking his head.
The villagers were gathered by the well discussing the disappearance when Proctor joined them. He mentioned the stranger and many agreed with his uncle.
“Did anyone see Lucius leave this morning?” Proctor scanned the group, his face drawn in a frown.
The answers were all the same. Many just shrugged their shoulders. No one had seen him leave.
Proctor’s brother, Minna, stood beside him, one arm draped around his shoulders. “There’s nothing we can do before first light. If he’s with the stranger, they’ll be stopped for the night as well.” He looked into the face of each man while squeezing Proctor’s shoulder. “Those who can, meet us here just before daybreak.
When Proctor crawled out of bed in the still dark hours of the morning, his wife stirred by his side. By the time the men were gathered to begin the search, Maria was seen hurrying in their direction.
“Wait.” She waved her arms as she ran towards them. Proctor drew his brows together as she approached. Her hair was flying in the morning breeze without benefit of her usual scarf. She stopped beside Proctor, cheeks flushed and panting.
“I’ve had a dream.” She gasped while pushing her hair back from her face. “Rufus will be fine.” All eyes were on her. Proctor leaned over, mouth open, and stared at her.
“No one is to look for him.” Maria glanced at Proctor, tilting her head.
The men stared at her wide-eyed.
“He’s fine. There’s no need to look for him.” Her arms were folded over her robe and there were tears in her eyes.
The men looked to Proctor. He shook his head as though to clear his thoughts, looked at his wife again, then slowly nodded. “Let’s do what she says. She’s had these dreams before and they’ve all been true.” He bowed his head and his shoulders slumped. “We’ll just have to trust her. Thank you, men.” He swallowed hard, sighed deeply then turned to follow Maria back to their hut.
Rufus and Lucius stopped at small inns along the way for food and rest. The days were weary yet wonderful for the boy who had never been outside his village. He reveled in the sights he saw. A high rushing waterfall caught his attention as the water tumbled down the steep mountain side. Words were impossible with the roar of the water plunging out of sight to the valley floor below.
In the inns strange talk intrigued his ears as foreign dialects abounded.
“What are they saying, Lucius?” He leaned toward Lucius with his hand covering his mouth. He couldn’t help staring.
“You’re hearing a dialect common to the area. It’s one I don’t speak, but can usually follow the meaning. They’re talking about the price their sheep may get at market.” Lucius smiled at Rufus and gently punched his shoulder. “You’ll be hearing many more tongues before we reach out destination.
The closer they came to Ephesus, the more travelers there were on the road. Tunics in reds, purples, and rich blue intermingled with white. Rufus began to feel shabby in his homespun until beggars began to meet them from the city gates. A time of contrasts as rich and poor merged together, shepherds and merchants rubbed shoulders, servants and masters walked side by side, a feast for the eyes and Rufus took it all in.
The gates of the city loomed in the distance. Flocks of sheep destined for the marketplace, butted and shoved each other as they tried to enter the gate together. A group of tall men on horseback parted the sheep with bleating and tumbling.
Lucius and a wide-eyed Rufus entered the city gates just ahead of a camel caravan which had caught up with them on the road. The dusty beasts plodded behind them, no doubt anxious to be relieved of their burdens. Inside the gate the sights and sounds of the city were overwhelming for Rufus. The marketplace teemed with people buying and selling or just passing through. Strange smells assailed their nostrils as animals and people vied for space. Food was cooking over fires and offered for sale. Rufus absorbed what he could while he waited for Lucius to carry out some business transactions before proceeding to his home.
They left the busy marketplace and entered a quieter section of the city. Here the homes were large and secluded. Lucius stopped before a gated courtyard where a large white house could be seen through the gate. After life in a mountain hut, this home seemed massive.
Rufus was handed over to the chief household servant for training. He was to be the personal servant to Lucius. The duties were light as Lucius was not a demanding master. Rufus learned quickly and soon became an expert in the ways of his master.
Life in Ephesus settled into a pleasant pattern. Rufus learned quickly and was happy to serve Lucius whom he had grown to love like a father. He put his own family out of his mind while he learned all he could about Ephesus. The marketplace always held the greatest fascination for him, as well as visiting the businesses with Lucius. The plan was that Rufus would learn the business and work with Lucius.
Unfortunately, a catastrophic downturn in Lucius’s business led to the loss of his home and property. The servants were left without home or work. Lucius tried to find other places for them but his personal problems were so severe he was hampered in his desire. Rufus found himself alone in a big, unfamiliar city.
“What’s in store for me now?” He stood in the street outside his recent home and contemplated his immediate future.
· Dear Reader: you will meet the adult Rufus in Antipas: Martyr. Life continued for him in a very interesting and unique way.
