The Hidden Flame (39 page)

"If there is trouble with our own countrymen, then Rome wouldn't hesitate to step in. They will not tolerate unrest. Rioting. Then indeed we may be caught in the middle."

Stephen's words were so solemn they made Abigail shiver. "I will tell the apostles," he said. "We need to pray as never before."

"Then you think it is possible? There could be trouble?"

He spoke gently now, even laying a hand lightly on her arm as it rested on the table. "Abigail, we have had no illusions. They killed our Lord. Peter has told us from the beginning that Jesus said we would face persecution. That they rejected and hated him, and we would face the same. We should not be surprised."

"Then ... you are not afraid?"

"I am terrified."

"You think death-?"

"I am not afraid of death, Abigail. I am afraid that I might draw back and not be bold in proclaiming the gospel." He hesitated, then said, "And I am afraid that I might not stand firm. That under the heel of the enemy, in pain, I might deny my Lord."

Though her heart quaked at such a prospect, Abigail said with utter certainty, "I cannot for one moment imagine the stalwart and dedicated man I know would ever even consider denying his Lord."

He smiled a bit crookedly. "Have you heard Peter tell his story? He thought he would be willing to go to death if necessary, with our Lord. But when our Christ was taken, Peter failed to stand with him. He denied him, Abigail. It broke his heart. But it also perhaps made him into the man he is today.

"But Peter also warns us, continually, that we are not able to stand in our own strength. We need God's presence with us. We must pray that God will keep us strong for whatever lies ahead and faithful to the end. And we must encourage one another. Daily."

Such words might have brought even more fear to Abigail's heart, but they left her comforted. Stephen was right. Their God would not desert them.

Someone else heard at least some of their discussion, for a man's voice said, "Well spoken, brother."

They looked over to discover Alban and Martha standing in an archway where a torch cast deep shadows. Both Abigail and Stephen rose quickly to their feet, and Abigail exclaimed, "Alban, I thought you would be on your way by now!"

He looked at Martha, and they both exchanged smiles. "I had a talk with Peter, and we decided that I-and Jacob-would delay our departure in order to be here for the celebration."

Stephen said, "A celebration?"

"Yes, a wedding celebration."

Martha laughed. "Look at their faces."

Abigail dared a quick glance at Stephen and saw an expression on his face she had not seen before. She wondered if her own face carried the same look of awe and anticipation-maybe just a hint of concern. She did not trust herself to speak.

"Here comes Peter now," Alban noted. Instinctively Abigail reached to smooth her hair. Her robe was stained from her day's work, her hair untidy, and she felt she was not at her best after the long hours and long lines of needy recipients.

Stephen seemed not to notice. He gave her such a smile that it reached across the table between them and warmed her heart. Abigail took a deep breath.

Right then Jacob came bounding up to his sister, looking pleased. She was reaching to embrace him when Peter raised his hands to quiet those still in the courtyard and announced, "Alban will be leaving soon to return to Galilee, and we have decided to hold the marriage celebration for Stephen and Abigail tomorrow."

Abigail needed a moment to absorb it all. Could she be ready for marriage-tomorrow?

Peter was saying, "Traditionally a Judean bride does not know the day or the hour that her bridegroom will come to claim her, but since this bridegroom might find her with her hands deep in bins of grain, doling out food supplies for those who come each day, we are making this announcement in her hearing."

The group laughed and clapped, and Abigail shook her head and managed a nervous laugh herself. Stephen must have seen how stunned she was, for he moved around the table and quietly offered his hand. She felt his strength flow through the contact, the goodness of this man, and yes, the love.

"Tomorrow," she said, her voice trembling. "Let it be so."

She would be ready. She didn't know just what preparations she would need to make. But she would be ready. Of that she was sure.

It was a simple but joyful time. There was no need for anything elaborate. Many of the followers had gathered to wish the two well as they began their new life together. As Abigail stepped into the courtyard, she recognized so many-everyone she and Stephen had ever assisted, it seemed, their faces shining with unaccustomed joy. Today, everywhere she looked, Abigail saw only happiness. It was such a gift, this realization that their wedding was raising the spirits of so many.

Jacob hovered nearby, and Abigail reflected that he already seemed both straighter and taller. He reminded her of a lean and hungry sheep dog-his hair was as unruly as always, though he tried to force it into place with sweeps of his hand. Abigail clung to him for as long as she dared, glad he did not push her away in embarrassment.

He gave her a smile and said, "So my sister is to become a married woman. Does the good Stephen think he will be able to manage such an independent wife?"

Abigail heard chuckles around them, and she laughed too. She knew the comment was Jacob's way of expressing his love and care, and she hugged him once more.

He took her arm and led her through the gathering. "Where will you live?"

"Stephen feels we should live where I am now."

"I am glad that you will not be alone. I worry about you," Jacob told her. She wondered if she had seen just a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but he was smiling and nodding his satisfaction with it all. She struggled against the sudden desire to weep.

Then Stephen was at her side with a look only for her, then extending his hand to her brother. "Jacob, you are most welcome to share our simple home. The loft was yours, and will remain so. We will be glad to have you as part of our new family."

Jacob looked very surprised, and for one moment his guard seemed to fall away. Abigail saw his throat constrict as he tried to swallow. "That is most kind," he finally managed, and indicated Alban standing nearby. "But my path seems directed elsewhere at this time."

"As it should be," Stephen said with a smile. He waved at the sound of Peter calling his name. "But know that whenever you return, at any time, our home is yours."

Abigail gave Jacob one more hug. Then she stepped forward, moving through the smiling crowd, to her proper position beside her bridegroom.

The afternoon passed too quickly. Almost before she could totally comprehend what was happening in her life, the gathered group was cheering and throwing flowers toward the small platform where they had knelt when Peter prayed for them. She felt Stephen's hand seek her own. She now belonged to him. When she returned to her simple lodgings, she would no longer journey alone. She would never feel alone again.

C H A P T E R

THIRTY-FOUR

SEVERAL DAYS AFTER THEIR FATEFUL nighttime conversation, Ezra met Saul at the Temple. One glance at the young man's face was enough for Ezra to know that he bore alarming news. "Several Temple priests have joined the followers' ranks," he spat out.

The shock pushed Ezra back a pace. "You are certain?"

"Gamaliel received word from the high priest this morning. I was in the chamber."

"What does Gamaliel say about this?"

"The same as yesterday and the day before and last week. We must determine whether they truly speak the word of God."

Ezra felt as though his insides were being twisted. He was losing his oldest and best friend. "He too is joining them?"

"I cannot accept that would actually happen."

Ezra forced himself to center his attention on the young man. He felt empty, hollow. "We should continue our discussions elsewhere."

"They are gathering again at Solomon's Porch."

"I do not need to see any more of that group," Ezra replied grimly. "Not ever again."

Ezra took the main thoroughfare into the wealthy district by the city's northwestern wall. This was the only portion of Jerusalem where Hellenized Judeans could safely gather. The broad plaza was filled with men and women wearing brilliantly colored robes. Ezra even spotted a few Judeans wearing Roman robes, their beards oiled and curled in the Greek style, smelling strongly of perfume. Ezra led Saul into a tea shop where three travel litters rested by the entrance, waiting for their owners' wishes. Ezra saw Saul's mouth curl in derision. Such conveyances were rare in Jerusalem these days, for many Judeans had taken to stoning these extravagant displays of wealth from shadowed alleyways.

The shop owner recognized Ezra and bowed the wealthy merchant into an ornately decorated alcove. Ezra ordered, waited until the curtain had been drawn, and said, "I do business here from time to time. We can speak freely and not be overheard."

Saul leaned across the table to declare, "This group must be crushed."

Ezra studied the man opposite him. Saul of Tarsus was the sort of Pharisee that Ezra normally avoided. Stiff-necked and bullish in his opinions, every pronouncement was made in the stubborn certainty that he alone knew what was right. Ezra and Gamaliel had been schooled under a very different philosophy. Their rabbi had insisted that only God could say what was truly the correct viewpoint, and such edicts were delivered through his prophets. This bred a certain flexibility in scriptural study, where the rabbi would present two different views of the same passage and order his students to find the truth in both commentaries. But such recollections only brought another piercing regret over this schism between Ezra and his oldest friend.

Ezra pushed all such thoughts aside and said what he had decided upon just before dawn. "We cannot risk a direct attack upon the apostles."

Saul's beard jutted with indignation. "These leaders are the reason for all these troubles! Erase them and the crowds will evaporate!"

"Will they? Are you so certain of this? Was this not precisely the same argument the Sanhedrin used against Jesus of Nazareth? They crucified the man, and still their numbers grow." Ezra waved that aside, halting Saul in the process of further argument. "There is a greater problem."

Ezra related how he had traveled to the arena and how their warning against the followers had been rebuffed by the new prelate, Marcellus.

Saul's features darkened. He conceded, "If we attack them outright, the group indeed might revolt. The prelate could then blame us for the uprising."

"That we must avoid at all costs," Ezra agreed. The prospect had robbed him of more than one night's sleep. "If the Romans decide we caused a riot by persecuting the apostles, we would be the ones planted on Golgotha."

"What do you propose?"

Ezra leaned across the table and whispered, "We select from among the followers a leader, but one not from their top rank. We bring him forth on charges before the Sanhedrin."

"What charges? They are all known to be rigidly observant of the Law! That is the part-"

"I have thought of that. You have allies among the ranks of rabbis, yes? People who are frightened of what these followers represent?"

"They are most terrified," Saul said, his face grim.

"Bring the man before the Sanhedrin and have several of your cohorts level accusations against him."

As Ezra outlined what they might say, Saul began nodding with such vehemence his entire upper body was set in motion. "Such allegations are so grave the Council will be forced to condemn him."

"And thus we can start with one man, test their mettle, and then gradually attack the entire group." As Saul started to rise, Ezra halted him with a hand on his arm. "It would be best if you moved against them somewhere other than the Temple. We want to carry this out away from too many eyes."

"I know just the place, and just the man," Saul said, his dark eyes burning.

Ezra released the Pharisee's arm. "Go, then. There is no time to lose."