An Echo in the Darkness(45)

Night after night he awakened abruptly, shaking, his body streaming with sweat, his heart pounding. He sat up and held his head. Digging his fingers into his scalp, he swore and struggled against the grief that overwhelmed him.

Closing his eyes, he remembered Hadassah kneeling in the moonlight, her hands raised to her god. He remembered cupping her face in his hands and looking into her beautiful brown eyes, eyes so full of love and tranquility. Every part of him yearned for her, yearned with a hunger so deep that he groaned.

“What kind of a god are you to kill her?” he rasped, his eyes burning with tears. “Why did you let it happen?” The anger burned in him and he clenched his fists. “I want to know who you are,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “I want to know. . . .”

He rose earlier than anyone else and dressed to go above deck. He needed the stinging cold sea air, but even standing at the bow, he felt Hadassah’s presence beside him. She haunted him, but he was thankful. His memories of her were all he had left.

Passengers awakened and moved about as the sun rose. He crossed to the leeward side to be alone. Most of the passengers were Arabs and Syrians who had completed their business in Ephesus and were returning home. He could speak only rudiments of their language and did not want company. The corbita could hold up to 300 passengers, but only 157 were on this ship because Marcus had ordered that most of the space be used for cargo. He was thankful there were not more people aboard.

The winds were good and the ship held a steady course. Restless, Marcus walked the deck each day until he was exhausted. He supped with the captain and returned to his quarters.

A few days yet from Caesarea, he grew calmer. He rested his forearms on a stack of crates and stared ahead at the blue-green sea as it flashed with reflected sunlight. He knew he would soon begin his quest across the land of Judea.

The sailors called to one another as they worked the lines. The square sails stretched taut above him. The ship moved smoothly through the water. The Minerva had made good time thus far, but Marcus remained impatient, eager to be at his destination.

A dolphin leaped below him.

He hardly noted it at first, then it appeared again. It dove and then came up, keeping easy pace with the ship. It came straight up once and made a strange chattering noise before splashing back into the sea again. One of the crew manning the sails spotted it and cried out that the gods were with them. Passengers hastened to the leeward side and crowded him in order to watch. An Arab wearing a red burnoose with a black band pushed his way forward to get a better look.

The dolphin rose again and again, just below Marcus. Arcing gracefully, it repeatedly leaped and then slipped elegantly beneath the surface of the sea. The playful animal was joined by three others, and they leaped in unison, delighting the passengers, who began to call out greetings to them in several languages.

“It is a good omen!” someone said in excitement.

“Oh, servant of Neptune!” another cried out reverently. “We thank you for blessing our ship!”

“An offering! An offering! Give them an offering!”

Several passengers tossed coins into the sea. One struck the first dolphin and startled it. It veered off and disappeared, the others following. The excitement died with the creatures’ departure, and the passengers milled around and moved away from Marcus, finding places and ways to pass the time. Several groups gathered to gamble with small dice, while others dozed in the sun.

Satyros gave the helm to his first mate and came down to stand beside Marcus. “A good sign for your journey, my lord.”

“Would a Jewish Messiah send word by way of a pagan symbol?” Marcus said dryly, his arms still resting on the side as he stared out at the flashes of sunlight on the blue-green water.

“According to Paul, all things were created by this god you seek. Doesn’t it stand to reason, he can send word to you by any means he chooses?”

“And so an almighty god is sending a fish.”

Satyros gazed at him steadily. “The dolphin is a symbol we all recognize, my lord, even those who have no faith in any religion. Perhaps God sent the dolphin to give you hope.”

“I don’t need hope. I need answers.” His face hardened. Defiant and angry, he stretched his hand out over the water. “Hear me, messenger of the Almighty! I accept no emissary!”

Satyros felt the fear Marcus should have. “Do you challenge God without thought to the consequences?”

Marcus gripped the side. “I want the consequences. At least then I’d know if this god truly exists, that he isn’t an illusion someone thought up to foist on gullible mankind.”