An Echo in the Darkness(125)

Phoebe tapped.

Iulius put his hand out, and the old woman waited, looking at him curiously. “Yes, my lady,” he said to Phoebe. He took a cloth and laid it on the couch where Prisca had sat. He put her peach on it and added all the fruit from the platter as well. Tying the corners of the cloth, he handed it to the old woman.

“Is she fattening me up?” Prisca said gruffly, embarrassed and overwhelmed.

“Eat in good health and pleasure,” Iulius said. Phoebe tapped again. He nodded. “Yes, my lady,” he said, laughing, and looked at Prisca. “She reminded me to give you more wool.”

“Working me to death,” Prisca muttered and glowered at Phoebe. “It’s only right you give me peaches.”

Phoebe’s eyes twinkled in response.

Eyes filled with tears, Prisca patted Phoebe’s shoulder and headed for the archways into the bedroom. “Can the others come and see her?” she said as Iulius escorted her out of the room and into the corridor to the steps.

“Not too many at once. She tires easily.”

Prisca looked around at the grandness of the inner courtyard and fountain. The house was so grand, but so depressingly quiet. “Does she have no children or grandchildren to comfort her?”

“Her son, Marcus, has never married. He is somewhere in Palestine. It’s doubtful he will return anytime soon. Her daughter, Julia, has been married several times but has no children. She’s here in Ephesus.”

“She knows of her mother’s condition?”

“She knows, but she has a life of her own.”

Prisca recognized a wealth of information in what Iulius didn’t say. “She doesn’t come to visit with her mother.”

“Her mother’s condition depresses her. She hasn’t been here in some weeks.” He was unable to keep the dislike from his voice.

Prisca shook her head sadly. “When they’re young, they trample on your toes. When they grow up, they trample on your heart.”

Iulius opened the front door for her. “You are the first person who has come to see her, Mother Prisca.”

“And I will come again,” she said firmly, then went out the door.

Iulius stepped outside. “Mother Prisca, I would ask a favor of you.”

“I will grant it if I can.”

“Bring Hera with you next time. Lady Phoebe hasn’t seen a child since she was struck down.”

The old woman nodded and went on.

He returned to the upstairs room. “You’ve been sitting long enough,” he said and took Phoebe up in his arms, carrying her back inside. He laid her gently on her side on her sleeping couch. He talked with her, telling her what was going on in the household and what news had come from the outside world as he massaged her back. “Rest awhile,” he said. “I’ll bring up your meal.” He left the room.

Phoebe knew as soon as he did so that another slave entered and sat close to watch over her should she need anything. She was never left alone. She listened to the birdsong coming from the balcony. Oh, to have the wings to fly away, to be free of the body.

Yet the Lord had kept her here like this for his purpose. Phoebe relaxed, clothing herself in the Lord’s promises. Hadassah had been right. She knew what Adonai wanted of her. It had come to her as clearly as words spoken aloud. Gradually, she had given up the inner struggle and surrendered completely to him. And in those moments, those infinitely precious moments, she did fly free, clear up into the heavens.

Pray, the voice had said softly. Pray for your children.

And so Phoebe did, hour after hour, day after day. And so she would for as many years as the Lord would give her to do so.

Lord, I hold Marcus up to you. Lord, turn my daughter’s heart . . . Lord, I beseech you. Father, forgive them . . . Abba, take them in hand . . . In the name of your Son, Jesus, I plead . . . O Lord God of heaven and earth, save my children. . . .





30

As dawn tinged the horizon with rose, Hadassah stood on the street below Julia Valerian’s villa. She had left Alexander’s apartment before dawn to avoid further conflict with him. He didn’t understand her determination to return to Julia. He felt it was foolish, wrong—and now that she looked up at the face of the elegant dwelling place, she wondered if he wasn’t right.

Fear, her old enemy, returned in strength. Fear had always been Satan’s stronghold on her. Even with all the time that had passed, she suddenly felt like the child she had been when she had waited for death among the throng of captives gathered in the Women’s Court of the great temple. How had she forgotten what it felt like to be afraid for her life? It filled her now, bringing with it trembling in her stomach and limbs and cold sweat. She could taste it, like the link of a metallic chain in her mouth. And she despaired and doubted.