Iulius saw Marcus’ seal ring was missing and wondered. He took his master’s hand and started to bow over it, but Marcus clasped his as an equal. Surprised, Iulius drew back uncomfortably. Marcus Valerian had never been one for familiarity with slaves, except, of course, with the prettiest young women. “Your journey was successful, my lord?”
“You might say that,” Marcus said, smiling. “I’ve come home a far richer man than when I left.” His eyes took on a sparkle of amusement. “I’ve much to tell my mother. Where is she?”
Iulius was discomforted. What he had to tell Marcus wouldn’t come as welcome news. What would the young master do now that he was home? “She rests on the balcony of her bedchamber.”
“Rests? At this time of the day? Is she ill? The fevers again, I imagine,” he said in dismay. She had had bouts of fever before he left.
“No, my lord. She’s not ill. Not exactly.”
Marcus frowned. “What exactly?”
“She can’t walk or speak. She has some use of her right hand.”
Alarmed, Marcus stepped past him and strode down the corridor. Iulius intercepted him before he reached the door. “Please listen to me before you see her, my lord.”
“Then speak quickly and to the point!”
“Despite the way she appears, she is not without her wits. She understands what happens around her and what is said. We’ve developed a way to talk with one another.”
Marcus brushed him aside and entered the bedchamber. He saw his mother sitting in a chair that was much like a small throne. Her hand lay limply on the arm, her slender fingers relaxed. Her head was back as though she was drinking in the warmth of the sun. His heart stopped racing. She looked well.
It wasn’t until he came closer that he saw the physical changes in her. “Mother,” he said softly, his heart breaking.
Phoebe opened her eyes. She had prayed so often about her son it didn’t surprise her at all when she heard his voice and saw a vision of him standing before her on the balcony. He looked the same, yet different. He was beautiful—the epitome of manly grace and power—but older, his skin bronzed by the sun. “Mother,” he said again. When he knelt down before her and took her hand, she knew he was real.
“Ahhh . . .”
“Yes, I’m here. I’m home.”
She wanted so desperately to throw her arms around him, but all she could do was sit and weep. Her tears greatly distressed him, and she tried to stop them. “Ahhhh . . . ,” she said, her right hand fluttering.
“It will be all right now,” he said, his own eyes filling.
Iulius came near and put his hand on her shoulder. “Your son has returned.”
Marcus noted the personal way Iulius touched his mother. He also saw the look in the man’s eyes. The heat of anger rose.
“I won’t leave you again,” Marcus said, wiping the tears gently from her cheeks. “I’ll find you the best physician money can buy.”
“The best have seen her already, my lord,” Iulius said. “We have not spared expense. Everything has been done that can be done.”
Looking into Iulius’ eyes, Marcus felt sure the slave spoke the truth. Yet, he was disturbed. It was right that a slave be devoted to his mistress, but the feelings he sensed from Iulius were far deeper than that. Perhaps it was good God had sent him home at this time.
Marcus returned his full attention to his mother, staring intently into her eyes. He saw how she held his gaze with equal intensity. One eye was clear and aware, the other vague and cloudy. “Was I mistaken to think you were a Christian?” he said.
She blinked twice.
“You were not mistaken,” Iulius said.
Marcus didn’t look away from her. “I was told by a man on the shores of the Sea of Galilee that there were believers who prayed for me. You prayed for me, didn’t you?”
She closed her eyes slowly and opened them again.
Marcus smiled. He knew the one thing that would give her the greatest solace. “Then know this, Mother. Your prayers have been answered. I found Christ. A man named Cornelius baptized me in the Sea of Galilee.”
Her eyes shone with tears again. “Ahhhh,” she said, and it was a sigh of praise and gratitude. Her hand fluttered.
Marcus took it and kissed her palm, then laid her hand full against his cheek.
“I have come home, Mother. To you. And to God.”
36
For the next several days, Marcus stayed in his mother’s company every moment she was awake. He told her about his voyage and meeting Satyros. He related his journey to Jerusalem and seeing the temple ruins and the stone where Abraham may have laid Isaac for sacrifice. He told her about the robbers on the road to Jericho and how Ezra Barjachin and his daughter, Taphatha, had saved his life. He spoke of the old woman, Deborah, in the village of Nain and how she had sent him on his way to the Sea of Galilee. He spoke of the despair and emptiness he had felt and of his attempt to take his own life. And finally, with reverence and awe, he spoke of Paracletos and the Lord.