“I am well aware of that, Satyros,” Marcus said coolly.
Satyros frowned, realizing belatedly that Marcus would, of course, know all this for himself. As owner of the Valerian ships and trade routes, he would have to keep well informed as to the circumstances in all regions of the Empire. His level of success bespoke his astuteness in this regard. Yet Satyros could not curb his own curiosity at such a surprising announcement.
“Why are you interested in such a desolate place?”
Marcus decided to answer frankly. “It’s not the place that interests me as much as the god that resided there.” Over the rim of his goblet, he watched the man’s face, waiting for the inevitable question to come forth. Why would a Roman be interested in the Jewish God? He was unsure what he would answer to that. He was not fully aware of all the reasons himself.
However, Satyros surprised him. “Perhaps therein lies the reason for the disaster that befell the city.”
“What reason do you mean?”
“Their God cannot be contained in a building.”
Satyros’ words so closely reflected those Hadassah had once said that Marcus’ interest sharpened. “What do you know of the Jewish god?”
“Only what I learned from a prisoner long ago, on the very ship you referred to earlier. But it would hardly interest you.”
“It interests me greatly.”
Satyros considered this for a moment. “The man was a Jew. An insurrectionist by all reports. Everywhere he went he caused a riot. When I met him, he was under the custody of an Augustan centurion named Julius and on his way to Rome to face Caesar for his crimes. I heard later he was beheaded. His name was Paul, and he was from Tarsus. Perhaps you’ve heard of him.”
Marcus had, but only from those who reviled him and mocked his claims of an all-powerful, loving god.
“What did this Paul tell you?”
“He said God had sent his only begotten Son to live among men and be crucified for our sins so that we might be restored and live in the heavens with the Father-God. Through this Christ, as he called him, Paul said all men can be saved and have eternal life. Nobody listened to him until the Euraquilo hit us.”
Marcus was aware of the feared winds that had sunk many ships.
“Paul had warned us beforehand that we’d suffer great loss and damage, not only to the ship and cargo but in human life,” Satyros said.
“You said earlier that no one was killed.”
“That’s true, but I’m convinced it’s because Paul prayed for us. I think his God gave him what he asked for—our lives.” He poured himself some wine. “We were caught in the violent winds and being driven along. We managed to take shelter at Cauda long enough to hoist the ship and undergird it with ropes. Not that it did us any good. When we got underway again, the storm hit harder. We jettisoned the cargo. By the third day, we threw the ship’s tackle overboard. We couldn’t see any stars, so we had no way of navigating. We didn’t know where we were. We were sailing blind. There was not a sailor or passenger aboard who was not terrified for his life. Except Paul.”
Satyros leaned forward and tore off a piece of bread.
“It was during the worst of the storm that he stood among us and said only the ship would be lost. He had to shout to be heard above the storm, but he was absolutely calm. He said an angel of his God had been sent to assure him of what he was telling us. He told us not to be afraid. He said we would run aground on an island but that no one would be killed.”
Smiling slightly, he shook his head, bemused. “It seemed his God wanted him to live in order to speak to Caesar, and in the process of saving him, his God decided to save the rest of us as well.”
“It could’ve been coincidence.”
“Perhaps, but I’m convinced it wasn’t.”
“Why?”
“You would have to have been there to understand, my lord. Never before then or since have I seen such a storm. Destruction and death were certain, yet Paul was absolutely calm. He had no fear of death. He told us to have no fear. He took bread, gave thanks to God, and ate. Can you imagine such a thing? He ate in the midst of that chaos.” He shook his head, still amazed as he remembered. “I’ve never seen anything like his faith before, and few times since.”
Satyros dipped the bread in his wine.
Marcus remembered Hadassah walking calmly across the sand of the arena, unaffected by the screaming mob or the roar of lions.
Satyros took up a slice of brined meat. “When you see faith like that, you have to believe there’s something to it.”
“Perhaps it was only his own delusions.”