The Hidden Flame (22 page)

"Yes, that's the one. He sold a property, and this very evening he set the money at the apostles' feet."

"What-all of it?"

"Everything. We have enough for months to come." His voice held a quiet triumph. "Another wondrous sign that God is taking care of us."

Abigail murmured words of thanks she scarcely could hear herself. When the young man moved away, she looked down toward her healed leg. Why had she ever doubted? It was just as Stephen said. The Lord promised. The Lord supplied.

Abigail continued to find wonder in the smallest of acts, such as picking up the baskets and heading off to market. Or knotting the day's coins in the corner of her shawl, and smiling with Stephen over the miracle of money for all their needs. Now it was up to the community of believers to spend the funds wisely.

Stephen nodded a farewell to her as he and Philip started off in the donkey cart to transport supplies to those in greatest distress. As reprisals against the followers of the Way grew in intensity, there were more and more who needed such help. Many had lost their jobs because shop owners feared Temple reprisal if a follower was found in their employ. Looks of contempt were cast on them when they were recognized in the streets-or even curses, spitting, or handfuls of dust. It was clear their increasing numbers had the whole city on edge.

Abigail was mentally busy with all these concerns as she moved from stall to stall, selecting, bartering, and filling her baskets. When the task was accomplished she was happy to head for the compound.

She stopped at the well to draw water to wash the vegetables and then carried the pail to the clay trough. Thankfully, the trough and the stone bench alongside it were still held in shadows. The cobblestones surrounding the well reflected the sun and created even more heat.

And then there's Jacob.... Her brother was a study in contrasts these days. He was overjoyed by her healing. Yet he remained extremely troubled. Abigail knew it was at least partly his yearning to join the Roman army. Yet she also sensed that Jacob was upset with her. Why, she had no idea. But sometimes she found him watching her, his face veiled in anger and frustration. Occasionally he would bring up Linux as a possible suitor, and when she pointed out that Peter had insisted they wait for Alban, he would fume in silence.

She was so taken up with her concerns about Jacob that she was halfway through her task at the trough before she realized a man and a woman nearby seemed to be arguing. She heard the woman say, "The land was given to me to arrange the betrothal."

Abigail's hands, holding a leek, stilled. She recognized the voice as Sapphira's, a member of a wealthy Judean clan. Wife of Ananias, both of them part of their group. And she was sister to Ezra, the merchant who sought her hand....

The voice came from the other side of the stone wall providing her shade. A teahouse fronted a narrow ledge that overlooked the city's ancient walls. Abigail had passed it any number of times but had never been inside. Sapphira must have been seated right beside the wall.

She heard the man say, "Which gives them even less right to demand any part of such a gift. Especially after they have refused your brother's entreaties."

Abigail was certain the voice belonged to Ananias. She started to move away, but something held her in place. Fear, certainly. There had been no word from Ezra since Peter had said he would pray and consult with Alban before making any decision about whom she might wed. But Abigail had no doubt such a powerful man could make trouble for them all. And especially for her.

Sapphira was saying, "It was not a gift, really. He paid me with the land."

"A payment of sorts, I suppose. But what's important here is that the land belonged to us. Ezra placed no conditions on it, and neither should anyone else."

Abigail frowned, bewildered. What could they be arguing over?

"Well, it's sold. You took care of that in a hurry." She sounded angry. "I'm not sure it was the wisest thing to do. Such property would only go up in value-but it's gone."

"And it brought a good price."

"That's not the point, husband. We find ourselves in a dilemma. You know what Barnabas did. And what others are doing. Whatever they receive from such transactions, they give. They will expect the same from us."

"Why do they have to know?"

"Why? It's not a matter of why. They will, that's all. Does any land in this city change hands without the world knowing about it? No. Of course not. Everyone will have heard of the sale before this day is out. If you hadn't sold it so hastily we ..."

Abigail tried to concentrate on the vegetables, but the voice on the other side of the wall could not be blocked from her hearing.

"All right-so maybe I acted in haste. I did not think of this ... this situation."

"I don't think you thought at all."

A bold statement for a woman to make to her husband. But Sapphira sounded too angry to be guarding her tongue.

"So what do we do?" Ananias had lowered his voice in defeat.

"Well, we have to give it. We will feel their disapproval-and maybe worse-if we do not."

"But ...'

"But ?"

"That's a great sum-"

"Of course it is," Sapphira said. "The property was worth a small fortune."

"I know. I know. You've told me that several times. But do we have to give it all?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nobody will know the price we got for the land." Ananias spoke more swiftly now. "I could give them double what Barnabas did. We would still retain more than half."

"I suppose-"

"Then it's settled. I'll bring in the bags of silver in the morning and give them to the treasurer, Stephen. No, no, I'll give them directly to Peter."

The voices faded away as the couple must have left the teahouse. All Abigail could think of was the excitement this additional amount would bring to Stephen. He had a great responsibility in caring for the needs of so many people. And the two had said this gift would be twice what Barnabas had brought. Abigail was tempted to run and tell Stephen right away. But, no, that wouldn't be right. This was not her secret to tell. She never should have heard the conversation in the first place. She would let Ananias and Sapphira be the bearers of the good news.

But she couldn't help but smile as she dumped the water from washing the vegetables and carried the baskets of clean produce toward the kitchens.

The next morning Abigail was busy in the kitchen with Martha, her sister Mary, and two younger girls when they heard a commotion from the courtyard.

"What is that?" asked Mary, lifting her head.

"What?" Martha's hearing was not as keen as it once had been.

"I heard some noise. It sounded like a ... like a muffled scream."

"I heard it too," Abigail agreed, wiping her hands on her robe. "But it wasn't really a scream. It was ... I don't know. I've never heard anything like it before."

When they heard nothing further, they shrugged and continued their meal preparation.

It was not long until Philip appeared in the kitchen doorway, his face as pale as chalk. He told them, his voice hushed, that Ananias had come with money from the sale of property. He had presented it to Peter, claiming it to be the full amount of the sale. Instead of praising him, Peter had condemned him. Not for his generosity, which was commendable, but for his lie.

"The land was yours," Peter had told Ananias, his eyes flashing fire. "The money was your right to keep. But you have lied to the Holy Spirit." And right on the spot, Ananias had collapsed on the cobblestones. They could not revive him, and he was dead.

The women struggled to accept what they were hearing. But Philip was not finished with his report. Even more frightening, when Sapphira had arrived, the whole scene was repeated.

They were gone. Both of them. In only the matter of a few hours. Peter had ordered some of the men to take them out of the compound and bury them.

The group of women stood aghast. Abigail felt faint. So that was the result of the conversation she had partly overheard. The shocking turn of events sickened her.

Abigail wrestled with her troubled thoughts the rest of the day. What had just happened? Was their God really that vindictive? As she moved about the courtyard serving those who came for their daily supplies, she saw the little clusters of whispering people, eyes wide with both wonder and fright. Word had traveled quickly. People dared not even ask questions or express their concerns.

Peter was not seen until evening prayers. He rose and addressed the entire gathering. Abigail had never seen the compound so full, or so silent.

"Brothers and sisters," Peter began, his booming voice drawn to a husky murmur. "You all know of the sudden deaths today of two of our members. It was not for the good they were attempting to do that they were struck. No. The God we serve demands an open and honest heart. It was not to me that the lie was told. It was a lie before a holy and just God. God sees the heart. He knows our thoughts. May this caution each one of us to be honest in all our dealings. We cannot"-his voice rose then-"we cannot deceive God."

Peter looked out over the crowded courtyard. His voice rang with fervent pleading. "If we are to fight evil in our world-as we are called to do-we cannot harbor deceitfulness in our hearts. May God give us the courage and the strength and the wisdom to live as he wants us to live. He is a holy God. And he is also a God of love. He desires only our good. He will show us what we each must learn from this experience today."

Abigail and Jacob did not speak as they walked home that night, but Abigail reflected on Peter's words all the way back to their small quarters.

C H A P T E R

TWENTY

EZRA WALKED BEHIND THE SERVANT past the sentries and out the Dung Gate, his questions held tightly inside. He had not spoken since Ananias's servant had arrived with the appalling news. Despite his panic and his dread, he would not shout such news to the city. If it was indeed true. And why?

The servant had appeared at Ezra's door, his face still wet with tears. He had been sent alone by Ananias's family-no one else could bring themselves to face him. The servant, a follower, had related all that had happened, everything he had witnessed from his place among the gathering.