The Hidden Flame (29 page)

The evening was both exhilarating and difficult. Abigail was delighted to have Alban there for the betrothal ceremony, so far the most joyous occasion of her life. She could only imagine that it would, sometime in the future, be surpassed by their wedding night when she and Stephen would truly begin their life together.

But Jacob was not there. And that grieved her in a way she could not have expressed. He had not only disclaimed Alban, he had disclaimed her as well. She prayed over and over that he still clung to his faith in God.

She tried to keep her fears and disappointment at bay as she received blessings and best wishes from the many people who had gathered to hear their vows.

After the crowd had gradually dispersed, Stephen was finally able to approach her in a moment of private conversation.

"I wish you to know, Abigail, that I feel deeply honored you have agreed to become my wife. I had never dared to hope that God would bless me with such a life mate. I admire your deep devotion. Your commitment. Your compassion for those about you, and I promise that I will do my best to care for you, Abigail, always."

But even as he spoke such touching and fervent words, Abigail could sense a tension.

"I do not know how soon we can be together," he said. "I pray our wedding celebration will be soon. But our world is being tried. We are being tried. There is much opposition to our faith. It grows even as our numbers grow. The most important thing for us is to hold strong to the faith. To share with our brethren the truth that we have been given-and as much as I would wish to be with you, Abigail, to give you my full time and attention, I love God even more, and I must be obedient to his calling. I pray you understand."

Abigail nodded. His words had only made her respect him more. "I understand. And that is exactly what I would wish you to do. What I would expect you to do. That is the reason I have learned to respect you as I have. I have seen your faithfulness. That God is first. That must be so-for both of us."

C H A P T E R

TWENTY-FIVE

IN ALL THE YEARS EZRA HAD BEEN ENTERING the Temple gates, since he was fourteen, he had never before felt like an outsider. His sister's death-and its unbelievable circumstances-made him feel somehow unclean, contaminated. Which of course was ludicrous.

He had been fetched from his home by one of Gamaliel's blackrobed students. This tall young man, bearing a document carrying the Sanhedrin's official seal, he did not recognize. The courier requested that Ezra accompany him immediately to the Temple. During the period of mourning, an observant Judean normally did not leave his home. With Gamaliel present every morning, it was certain the Sanhedrin knew full well what was happening in Ezra's household. Only the most vital of issues would have moved them to draw him away.

In truth, Ezra was glad to go. The house had become packed with people who had multiple motives and used the opportunity to petition him, knowing none would be turned away at such a time. Only a few were actually there because they truly lamented the loss of Ezra's sister and brother-in-law. The women of Ananias's family sat on low three-legged mourning stools and moaned from time to time, their wails now dampened by time and fatigue. The family gathered before the dawn prayers and remained there all day. Ezra's household staff kept the courtyard tables full of food and drink. The visitors came and came and came. Many pressed his hand and murmured the traditional words of mourning, "May God comfort you together with all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem." Yet even as they spoke, Ezra could see the ulterior motives in some gazes, the desire for him to remember them and the fact that they had paid their respects at this tragic time.

Ezra had heard a term used by several mourners when they thought he was out of hearing range-suspect. Their meaning was clear enough. No one was certain precisely what had happened, why the family was caused to suffer, what hand the husband and wife had themselves played in their demise, and ultimately, who was to blame for this.

In truth, deep in the secret recesses of his unspoken thoughts, Ezra had his own suspicions-that his sister and her husband had done precisely what the apostle had denounced them for.

But even if that were true, he quickly told himself, the apostles had had no right. None at all. And they would pay. Along with as many of their followers as Ezra could include in his revenge.

Such were his thoughts as he entered the Temple compound through the Hulda Gate. And drew to an astonished halt. "What is this?"

"This is why Gamaliel decided you must be disturbed," the student Pharisee replied grimly. "Come. There is more to see."

He fell into step beside the young man. "What is your name?"

"I am Saul."

"Where is your home?"

"I hail from Tarsus. But I always have considered Jerusalem my true home. And this Temple its heart." Saul eyed the crowds with grim distaste. "But not these days."

Ezra glanced at the sun's position, wondering if perhaps he had lost track of the time. But no, afternoon prayers were not scheduled to begin for at least another two hours. So why were the crowds so immense?

The young Pharisee murmured quietly and pressed forward ahead of Ezra. Bearded men grumbled as he pushed through, but when they saw he wore the robes of a Temple Pharisee, they moved away, granting them space. Ezra felt sweat trickling down his spine as he threaded his way through the jammed courtyard, and it was not only from the heat. In the distance he could hear the bleating of animals in the sacrificial pens. But he could see nothing save a multitude ahead and behind and to either side.

Finally they arrived at an opening. An invisible perimeter held the throng in a large circle. Ahead of them, jammed together as tightly as the group through which he had just passed, was a second ring. There appeared to be an invisible barrier keeping the two crowds apart.

Then Ezra realized what he was seeing.

Solomon's Porch, near the Beautiful Gate, was directly across from the Temple wall closest to the Holy of Holies. Beyond the Temple rose a smaller structure where the Sanhedrin met as the Temple Council. The space between the porch and the Temple and the Council building was utterly filled by this second crowd.

There in Solomon's Porch, in the space traditionally reserved for senior Pharisees and Temple scribes, stood several of the apostles. Beside them was the young man Stephen. Ezra could hear his clear voice ring out, easily heard by both groups, telling about the Scriptures related to the promise of the Messiah.

Ezra was filled with such wrath he could no longer make out any more of Stephen's words above the ringing in his ears. He turned to Saul and hissed, "I thought the Council had forbidden them from speaking!"

"The Council has done that and more," the young man said. "Have you seen enough?"

"More than I ever needed to," Ezra muttered.

"Gamaliel bids you join him in the Council building."

But the crowd was so solid they were forced to weave their way back to the front of the Temple, through the money-lenders' tables, past the Temple priests accepting supplicants' payments for sacrifices and around the northern side, through the section reserved for foreign God-fearers.

Finally able to breathe freely again, Ezra asked, "Those followers do this often?"

"Every morning, every afternoon, every evening. Before and after prayers. They come, and the crowds gather. They speak. They leave. Each time we hope it is over. But the next day it is the same again. And every day the crowds grow larger."

"And there is this division between the followers and everyone else," Ezra observed.

"That is new. Before, those who were curious joined the others, at least for a time."

"When did this change occur?"

Saul looked at him a moment, then said, "This week."

Beside him, crates holding doves were stacked higher than his head. The sound of their wings beat in time to his heart. "Word has spread of ... of my sister's death?"

"The entire city speaks of little else. The people are afraid now. They fear the apostles' ability to see within the human heart. They look and they listen, but from a distance." Saul tugged at Ezra's sleeve. "Come, the Council is waiting."

Ezra heard the tumult even before he entered the chamber. The young man pushed through the doors, and the noise assaulted Ezra from every side. The Council chamber was a large space, almost as broad as his home's interior courtyard. Even so, it seemed scarcely able to hold everyone. Ezra recognized important Pharisees and many Sadducees, joined by senior Temple guards and other city officials. All of them seemed to be shouting at once. The Council table was on an elevated dais, and every chair was filled. The Sanhedrin argued back to the group, and with each other. Even so, as soon as he saw Ezra, Gamaliel stood at the table and motioned for him to come forward. The sound of the voices quickly died away.

Gamaliel asked, "You have seen?"

"I have." Ezra felt his nails digging into his palms. "These people must be stopped!"

Instantly the group roared back into argument. Caiaphas, the high priest, called for silence. Reluctantly, the group obeyed. Caiaphas turned to the senior guards and said, "Arrest the leaders."

The next morning a trembling Abigail gathered for prayer with a larger group of the followers than usual. Word had arrived the previous evening of more arrests. Their leaders, including Peter, were in prison awaiting the Sanhedrin's decision.

A cold dread clutched Abigail's stomach, holding her captive to doubts and fear. She sensed the same panic in those around her. They all were knotted up in confusion and worry that only prayer could untangle. Would the Messiah's promises about the future ever be fulfilled? Or would this same fate eventually claim them all-prison, perhaps even death?

And so they prayed. Earnestly. Fervently. And at length, humbly. Pleading for wisdom. Pleading for boldness, for endurance, for God's power. What of their little ones? Should at least some of the families flee the city?

A sudden calm filled Abigail's being-like a fresh wind of God's blessing. A sense of peace leaving a warm inner glow.

Abigail lifted her head to see if others were feeling it too, but then the sound of quickly tramping feet carried into the courtyard. Peter and the other jailed apostles appeared at the gate!

The believers as one rushed toward the men, shouting their welcomes and praising God. A barrage of questions finally made Peter raise his hands and gesture for them all to be seated.

"I have never seen anything like it in my life," he began. "There we were, shackled and waiting for morning to come and our fate to be determined, and suddenly I felt, more than saw, this presence in the cell with us. At first I thought I was dreaming, but I quickly knew it couldn't be so. I could see the solid walls, feel the damp beneath me, and hear the guards telling each other crude jokes to pass the night hours.

"This ... this heavenly being, this messenger of the Lord, appeared and motioned for us to follow. We walked right past the guards-I don't think they even noticed us. Then the angel opened the prison doors, without even a whisper of clanking iron. We walked out into the night. It had been raining, making our cell even more miserable, but now the stars had never looked so bright. The air smelled fresh and cool. I stood there blinking, wondering if I was having a vision.