Part 22 (1/2)
”Rome is perhaps more tolerant of such things. Valerius believes that although the rites themselves are kept a mystery, the initiates should publically revel in their own involvement. He often leads the processions himself.”
”He must disapprove of his friend Maius's timidity?”
Ariella remembered that last night and shuddered. ”I do not believe they are friends any longer. Maius incensed Valerius by killing his favorite slave.”
Cato whistled through his teeth. ”What vengeance did Valerius take?”
”I-I do not know. I was-sold-shortly after.”
Cato was quiet at last. No doubt he pondered how to best use her revelations.
They met no one intent on their harm along the way, and when Cyrus, the Persian slave, met them at the door, he seemed delighted to see Cato. Had her new master been here without her since their last visit? The slave left them in the atrium.
She listened for any sound of the group. ”Will they all be here again this night?”
Cato nodded. ”It is the first day of the week. This is their customary meeting day.”
Ariella bit her lip and looked away. Cato had become so familiar with these people who wors.h.i.+pped Hashem, when she . . .
She was still so far from the Creator.
But when Jeremiah hobbled out of the triclinium, a.s.sisted by Flora, Ariella's heart once again softened.
”Quintus, Ariella.” The old man extended his free hand. ”It is good to have you here.”
Cato greeted her old friend with a kiss, which astonished Ariella even more than the familiar praenomen with which Jeremiah had hailed him.
”We missed you yesterday, Quintus.”
Cato glanced at her, then gripped Jeremiah's arm and led him toward the triclinium. ”I am sorry, friend, that I could not make our usual time. Business to attend.”
Ariella followed, marveling. Cato had become a student of Jeremiah's?
The group filled the dining room as usual, and Ariella smiled around to those on couches and the floor. Europa's daughter, Flora, hobbled over to another wealthy girl and joined her with an embrace of close friends.h.i.+p. Ariella had seen the girl here before, remembered her striking blue eyes.
Cato sat alongside her, and the teaching began, this time by Jeremiah.
They listen to a slave-and a Jew-teach them. Women are welcome. Though it felt like a synagogue, it was something very different. Indeed, from what she had seen, the way their women were treated was nothing short of revolutionary. From birth onward, females had a greater chance at life and happiness in this society. They forbid the practice of exposing unwanted infant girls to die outdoors, they condemned the termination of inconvenient pregnancies which often resulted in a woman's death. They frowned on infidelity and divorce, thereby keeping women safe from disgrace and poverty. They took care of new mothers, attended the needs of widows. After all the mistreatment of her life, this esteem for the female s.e.x was nearly enough in itself to cave in Ariella's hard heart.
Jeremiah spoke again of the sinfulness of people's hearts, incapable of good, just as the prophets taught. He expounded on the sacrifice, the blood that makes atonement for sin.
But then his voice deepened as though he were a prophet himself, and he opened the Scriptures to her in a new way-prophecy after prophecy of the Messiah that had found fulfillment in the life of Yeshua. The worlds of Isaiah, of King David, of the prophet Jeremiah and so many others. Hundreds of prophecies, Jeremiah said.
He finished by reciting a long pa.s.sage from Isaiah-one that predicted the Messiah, and so clearly described the suffering of the one Jeremiah claimed came from G.o.d to destroy sin, to break down the barriers between man and his Creator . . .
”He was wounded because of our transgressions, He was crushed because of our iniquities . . . The chastis.e.m.e.nt of our welfare was upon Him, and with His stripes we were healed . . . All we like sheep did go astray, we turned every one to His own way, and Hashem hath made to light on Him the iniquity of us all . . . He bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.”
Ariella listened as though spellbound, but could not accept. Though Jeremiah had nearly convinced her that this Yeshua was the Messiah, still the knowledge of it collided with her anger at the suffering Hashem allowed. And she felt nothing but fury.
Before the meeting had ended, Jeremiah lifted prayers to the Creator and gave a special blessing over her and over Cato. Champion of the weak, Jeremiah called him. Her hands trembled when he spoke the words.
Later, they walked home slowly, both lost in their own thoughts.
Cato broke the silence. ”These people, Ari. They have found a way to live.”
She said nothing, and kept her eyes on the stones under her feet.
”I must introduce Europa to my mother. Don't you think? The way that they love, and the teachings of this Jesus-it's like nothing I've ever seen. 'Love your enemies,' Jeremiah says. And it's all possible because the sacrifice has been paid for all. Jeremiah says that when Jesus had suffered and been raised, He sat down at the right hand of the One G.o.d. What priest has ever sat down, Ari? Finished with his work?”
She held up a hand. ”Enough. They are dangerous. I want to hear nothing more.”
They walked in silence again for some minutes.
”You said that Valerius wants his initiates to be more vocal about their involvement in the Dionysian rites?”
She grimaced. Had his thoughts turned so easily from one sect to another? ”He believes that it is the way to become filled with the G.o.ds. True followers should not be ashamed.”
”And he was angry with Maius over the death of a slave.”
Ariella did not answer. She could not read his thoughts. When he spoke, the words left her chilled.
”I believe it is time to invite Valerius to our holiday town. Surely he would like to see the way in which Nigidius Maius shows his loyalty to their sect.”
Ariella's blood seemed to rush to her feet and she swayed for a moment. Cato took no notice and continued down the darkened street. She swallowed with effort. Her mouth and throat had gone dry. ”Please, do not do that.”
He turned at the anguish in her voice, and his eyes were sympathetic. ”Isabella told me that Valerius was a harsh master. I promise, Ari, you will not need to see him. You can remain in the back of the house during his visit, and I will make no mention of you. But I must do this. The people of Pompeii need to know of Maius's secret activities, and I need more than the word of a slave to present it to them. If Valerius still holds a grudge over the murder, a first-hand look at Maius's hypocrisy might cause him to back me publically, and expose Maius.”
She shook her head, unable to speak through the dread.
Cato stepped close and gripped her fingers at her side. ”I am sorry, Ari. But Portia grows weaker by the day, and I must do all I can to get her out of his clutches.”
Ariella had never met Portia. But Octavia and Isabella had already tunneled deep into her heart, as though they were her own family, and she could not ask Cato to give up a chance to save his sister. She shuffled forward, nodding.
For he was right. She was only a slave. She should be grateful for his offer to stay hidden from Valerius. And if that failed . . .
She had run from Valerius once, but that was before she had learned what it meant to fight.
The next time, she would kill him.
Vesuvius didn't owe them a warning. She owed them nothing, for she had done nothing but give, give, give these many years.
And yet she could not help the stirrings within her, and the rumblings they produced.
Tremors. Felt at first by no one but the deer on her slopes, perhaps. Bits of steam and rock, spit out upon her craggy summit. Poisonous gases escaped from vents, killing unsuspecting birds and rabbits.
It was coming. Oh, yes, it was coming.