An Echo in the Darkness(149)

“Rapha made no claims of any kind, my lord,” Iulius said quickly, “but it was she who convinced us that your mother understood what was happening around her. The other physicians who came all said it would be best to end her misery with a dose of hemlock.”

Marcus went cold. “Go on.”

“The physician who brought Rapha with him also suggested euthanasia. Rapha objected. She insisted your mother was aware, that her mind still functioned though her body did not. We were faced then with a terrible dilemma, my lord. What was best for your mother? Can you imagine what agony to be trapped within a useless body? I’d seen such fear and despair in your mother’s eyes, but didn’t know if she even knew what was going on around her. Rapha insisted she did and that she should live. She asked to be left alone with her, and when she readmitted us to the bedchamber, your mother was as she is now. Whatever Rapha said or did gave your mother hope. Equally important, Rapha gave her life purpose.”

“What purpose?” Marcus said, stunned by all he had been told.

“She prays. Unceasingly, my lord. From the moment she awakens and is carried out onto the balcony to evening when she is carried back to her bed, she prays. Of course, since you have returned home, she has spent more time with you.”

“Are you suggesting I’m interfering with her work?”

“No, my lord. Forgive me if I express myself badly. You stand in answer to many of your mother’s prayers. Your return home has served to reaffirm and strengthen her faith. You are solid assurance that God hears her prayers and answers.”

Marcus rose from the marble bench, his expression pensive. “You will forgive me if I still have doubts about this veiled woman. Lady Julia called her Azar, not Rapha. Perhaps she isn’t the same person of whom you speak. It’s a common enough practice for some women to veil themselves, and among them, I’m sure, are several cripples.”

“I’m sure you’re right, my lord, but there is no mistaking her. It’s less how Rapha appears than what you feel when she’s near.”

Marcus frowned. “What do you feel?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try,” Marcus drawled sardonically.

“Trust. Reassurance. Comfort.” He spread his hands. “In a strange way, her faith in God gives one a confidence in him as well, even those who don’t believe.”

“You don’t?”

“Because of your mother’s faith, I have come to believe, but there are times when I doubt.”

Marcus understood only too well. He now believed Jesus had come to earth, that he had allowed himself to be crucified as an atonement for man’s sin, and that he had been raised up from the dead. Yet, Marcus had difficulty believing Christ was sovereign. The world was too filled with evil.

It was these very doubts that roused his caution.

“Despite what you say, Iulius, I’m not so inclined to allow a stranger in our midst, especially one so mysterious as this one.”

“I am sure she has sound reasons for changing her name.”

“What might they be?”

“If you but ask, I’m sure she will explain.”





42

Opportunity to speak with Rapha-Azar eluded Marcus. Word had reached his representatives that he was back in Ephesus. They came to see him, bringing with them records of the business transacted in his absence. He spent morning until evening of the next few days closeted with them in the bibliotheca. They urged him strongly to take the helm once again.

“The opportunities to make money now are vast, my lord, and your instincts have always proven sound,” said one. “What eludes us is crystal clear to you.”

Marcus’ own nature and inclination tempted him to grasp the opportunities he saw from the reports given him. It would be so easy to reenter the business arena and focus his attention on things other than the problems in his family. Just listening to his representative and looking over the reports made his mind hum with ideas on how to increase his wealth.

Yet some small voice in his head bade Marcus resist his inclination to pour himself back into the business of making money. What was his motivation? He had wealth enough to last a lifetime now. And his mother needed him.

And there was still the unfinished matter of Julia.

His conscience plagued him constantly regarding his sister, while reason held him distant. Each time he went up the steps, he felt the urge to see his sister, to talk to her about what had happened to him in Palestine. At the same time, another voice reminded him of what Julia had done to Hadassah.

“There. It’s finished,” she had said, her face distorted by glee and hatred, and he would remember again Hadassah’s body upon the sand.