Caesar's Lord, page 47
Rabbi Isaac’s sermon focused on the passage from the Gospel of Matthew in which Jesus healed Peter’s mother-in-law and cast out many demons. “It happened in this very room,” Isaac declared. “Our Lord touched the mother of Shimon Kepha’s wife upon the hand, and the fever left her, and she rose up and served him. But I ask you: Why did she serve him?”
“Because he was a rabbi,” said one of the elders from the bench reserved for them. “And rabbis deserve honor.”
When Isaac shook his head, another man offered his answer. “Because she was a woman, and it is a woman’s place to cook for men.”
“Our wives do cook for us,” Isaac admitted, “but that was not why she did it.”
“What then?” asked the first elder impatiently. “Do not make sport with us, Yitzhak!”
Despite the rebuke, Isaac still didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reread his chosen passage from the Gospel of Matthew—first in Greek, then in Aramaic. After both readings were complete, Isaac raised his eyes to the small crowd in the church and said, “Mar Yeshua healed the woman by touching her hand. Therefore it is with her hand that she served him. For whatever is touched by Yeshua becomes devoted to the service of the Holy One, blessed be he.”
The rabbi’s explanation caused murmurs of approval to erupt from the congregation. Everyone could see the wisdom of the interpretation. Yet the person who marveled most was Empress Helena. She rose to her feet and exclaimed, “I, too, have been touched by Yeshua! And here is my service. On this very site we shall build the fourth church of the holy land. After the Resurrection, the Olivet, and the Nativity, there shall be, right here, the Church of the House of Peter.”
“Surround this place with walls,” Isaac advised, “yet madam, please do not tear down what is already here.”
“It shall be done as you say,” Helena agreed.
After the service was complete, including a Eucharist whose liturgical rhythms were still very close to a seder, the people of Capernaum were treated to a great banquet at imperial expense. There was abundant food and drink, and much laughter, and even some dancing. Only when the sun was low in the sky did the fishing boat finally take the royal entourage back to the villa on the sea’s eastern shore. Sunset was close when Flavia stepped onto the dock where she had started the long day. Her heart felt full to overflowing, satisfied by the fellowship in Yeshua and the abiding presence of Ruach HaKodesh.
“Would you like to watch the sun go down over the sea?” Rex asked her as everyone made their way from the waterfront back to the villa. When Flavia agreed, he said, “I’ll meet you at the beach. Let me get some blankets since the night has turned chilly.”
Flavia separated from the group and went to an out-of-the-way spot where the Sea of Galilee met the sandy shoreline. Far across the water, the twinkling lights of Tiberias were visible as shop owners and householders started to light their evening lamps. Above the town, the sky was ablaze with an orange glow.
The sun had just touched the distant hillside when Rex arrived with a heavy woolen blanket and a pillow. He sat down on the beach beside Flavia and they snuggled into the blanket, content to remain quiet for a while in this lonely and lovely place. The rays of the setting sun played across the ruffled water and seemed to reach all the way to the waves lapping at their feet, like a glowing path inviting them onto the shimmering lake.
“I wonder what it was like for Peter to walk across that sea,” Flavia mused. “It must have been scary out there in the deep water with waves and storms all around.”
“Do you think you would have sunk like him?”
“Only if I forgot where to put my eyes.”
Rex nodded thoughtfully. “It’s easy to do.”
Too easy, Flavia thought. Lord, help my unbelief!
After the sun had gone down behind Tiberias, the stars began to appear in the darkening sky. Soon the entire swath of the Milky Way was visible across the firmament. It was a moonless night, so the stars appeared especially brilliant. None of them seemed like malevolent demons tonight, but like diamonds scattered onto a black cloth by the generous hand of God.
Their delicate beauty made Flavia feel romantic. She nestled closer to Rex inside the warm confines of their blanket. “I love you so much,” she whispered.
His reply touched the deepest recesses of Flavia’s heart. “You are mine forever,” he said. “You and no other.”
The married couple’s kiss soon became something more. As desire rose in them, they reclined on the beach, unseen by human eyes yet visible to the approving gaze of God. He had declared their love to be good, so they rejoiced to enact the union of two into one. On this dark and starry night, the husband and wife expressed their affection in the intimate way God had designed. Flavia gave herself to Rex and he to her, until, at last, they were spent and stillness came to them again.
The warmth of Rex’s body within the blanket’s cocoon lulled Flavia into a deep sleep. For a long time, she lay still, at peace in her slumber. It was late in the night when something strange awakened her. At first, she couldn’t perceive what it was. Then she heard faint shouts . . . saw a flickering light . . . smelled the aroma of smoke.
“Rex, wake up!” she cried, shaking him. “Something’s burning!”
Immediately, Rex was awake and on his feet, a trait ingrained in all special forces operatives. “It’s the villa,” he said as he studied the eerie orange glow. “Don’t stay here or you could get trapped if those trees catch the flame. Run down shore and you’ll be safe.”
After Rex broke into a run toward the house, Flavia paused and considered what to do. Though she knew she would be safe if she moved away, she didn’t want to abandon the empress in her moment of need. So instead of escaping the conflagration, Flavia followed Rex to see if there was anything she could do. Even one extra person on a bucket brigade could make a difference. Flavia found she didn’t have the heart to flee from danger at such an urgent time.
It didn’t take long to realize the fire was a big one. The whole villa was ablaze. Flames leapt from nearly every window and danced above the roof, sending a column of black smoke into the sky. The intense heat was shattering the roof tiles in staccato explosions. Though a few people were running here and there, no one had started any kind of effort to put out the fire. Apparently the villa would be lost.
The acrid haze that surrounded the house made Flavia’s eyes water, but she pressed ahead to see if anyone was injured and could be dragged away from harm. A kitchen maid staggered from a doorway and Flavia caught her just before she fell to the ground. Supporting the girl in her arms, Flavia helped her to the beach where the air was better, then returned to see what else she could do.
The smoke column was thicker now, rising up and spreading out like the wings of a bat. For a moment, two swirling sparks looked like the baleful eyes of a demon as it loomed over the house, dancing and writhing in wicked glee. “You have no power!” Flavia cried, shaking her fist at the apparition. Her shout caused her to inhale a lungful of ashy smoke. She fell to her knees, coughing against the cinders that had invaded her body to burn her from within.
A frightened wailing made Flavia look up at the highest window in the villa. It was a grand window on the top floor that offered a vista of the lawn sloping down to the sea. A desperate figure was there, enveloped in billowing darkness. Although the flames had not yet reached that spot, their red tongues licked from the windows on either side, hungry to consume whatever was in their path. It wouldn’t be long before the fire reached the center window as well.
“Help me!” cried the terrified person in the window. Though the voice was hoarse and muffled, Flavia immediately realized who it was. Empress Helena!
Before Flavia could make a move toward the window, she saw Rex come dashing around the corner. The firelight revealed that his face was smudged with soot and his garments were singed. Yet Rex wasn’t overcome by the hellish flames. He was ready to do battle with them all night. Stationing himself beneath the window, he yelled up to the empress, “Climb down, Your Majesty! You’ve got to get out of there!”
“It’s . . . too . . . far!” she cried between hacking coughs.
“You must!”
Helena’s only response was to swoon, overcome by the smoke and perhaps also by fear. Rex didn’t hesitate. As soon as he saw the empress slump to the floor and disappear, he sprinted to the waterfront and returned with something bulky in his arms. “You men, help me!” he shouted to a pair of servants wandering around in the confusion. By the time Rex reached the base of the window again, he had recruited two more helpers. “Spread this out!” he ordered the foursome. “Pull it taut!”
Through the gloom, Flavia discerned that the men held a fishing net. Terror seized her as she realized what Rex was planning to do. “Almighty God, protect him,” she prayed as she watched Rex begin to scale the exterior of the house toward Helena’s window far above.
Like a spider on a wall, Rex made his way upward, using decorative ornaments, the lower window frames, and even the rough stonework as footholds and handholds. Once, his foot slipped, and Flavia gasped as he dangled from two hands. Yet Rex managed to find purchase again and keep going. Finally, he reached the top windowsill and disappeared into the smoke being belched out of the house.
For a long time, there was no movement, no sign of life. The center window was no longer dark, for the flames had reached that room and an evil glow backlit the billowing smoke. Sparks and embers shot from the window as if ejected from a volcano. A crafty voice started whispering fearful words in Flavia’s ear. The s-s-smoke overcame him. His body is burning! His flesh is melting! He is in agony! You’ll never s-s-see him again . . . not in thi-s-s-s world or the next!
“No! Christ is Victor!” Flavia cried—and at the same moment, Rex burst from the darkness with Helena Augusta in his arms.
“Hold that net, men!” Rex called down to his helpers. “Here we come!”
There was no time for him to clamber out of the window or sit on its sill before jumping. Nor did Rex try to lower Helena down. Instead, he just leapt into the air while cradling the empress against himself.
The freefall seemed to happen in slow motion. As Flavia watched, Rex pivoted midair so that his body would hit first and cushion the fall. He landed in the middle of the net, which was now held fast by eight or nine men who had joined the rescue effort. The net bowed in the middle and bounced the jumpers twice. Then, as they came to rest in its center, a great cheer went up from the men. “The queen is saved!” shouted the soot-blackened servants.
Though she was coughing from the smoke she had inhaled, Helena was not physically injured. She extricated herself from the net, supported by Rex’s arm around her waist. “Th-thank you,” she murmured as everyone backed away from the house. It was a total loss. The place could not be saved. Yet it seemed that most of its residents had escaped.
At a safe distance from the blaze, near the refreshing breezes of the waterfront, Rex and Flavia caught their breath and regrouped. Twice, Rex’s tunic had caught on fire, but he had swatted out the flames before they could burn his skin. Even so, his normally thick beard had been singed down to stubble on one of his cheeks. His eyebrow on that side was also gone.
“I yanked open our bedroom door and the flames leapt out,” he explained.
“You went inside? Rex, we have nothing that’s worth risking your life for!”
“Yes we do—the relics!” His face fell as he spoke. “They’re gone. All of them. The box was nothing but charcoal. Everything was consumed.”
Flavia put her hand on his wrist, then met his eyes with a tender gaze. “I’m sorry, my beloved. That is a great loss.”
“I will get more!” Rex vowed.
“The Lord our God will provide,” Flavia said.
The burning of the villa signaled to Empress Helena that it was time to return to Hierusalem. But before departing, she went around the Sea of Galilee to her base in Tiberias, where the good Jewish doctors were able to nurse her back to full health. They paid particular attention to her lungs, which had inhaled copious amounts of smoke and fumes. Helena was in her late seventies, so any ailment took longer to heal. Yet soon enough, the healthy air on the western side of the sea did its rejuvenating work. On the tenth day before the Kalends of June, Helena’s retinue set out for the Holy City. Once again, Rex found himself on the road next to the empress, protecting her right flank like a dutiful guardsman.
The rescue at the villa, however, had altered the long-standing dynamic between them. Helena had known Rex for many years in his professional capacity. Their first interaction was in faraway Gaul, seventeen years ago, when the empress asked the teenaged Rex to convey a message to Constantine in the middle of an important meeting. But now, after the fire, Helena seemed to treat Rex like her own grandson. She doted on him—not quite as much as she had Caesar Crispus, yet with a similar dynamic. It was a mixture of gratitude, affection, and esteem, probably with some grief and loss mixed in. Rex had rescued Helena once already when he swept her from an enemy encampment on horseback, which had earned her respect. Now the rescue from the hellfire at the villa seemed to have made an even deeper impression on the queen. Rex decided to maintain his normal professional demeanor with her while also trying to minister, as much as possible, to a Christian ruler whose burdens were heavy.
When Helena arrived in Hierusalem, she took up residence in the same mansion as before, so Rex and Flavia found themselves back in the charming Glory House next door. The morning after their arrival, everyone went to the construction site at the tomb of Christ. When Rex saw it, he could hardly believe how much had changed. The plaza that had housed the Temple of Aphrodite was completely gone. Likewise, the crater that had been dug underneath it had also disappeared. The area had been so thoroughly excavated that it was now just an open rectangle with no sign of the fill dirt Hadrian’s workers had brought in. Even the former quarry, which had become a garden in Jesus’s day, had been chipped away by the hewing of many pickaxes. Now the whole area was just an empty expanse awaiting future construction. It was entirely flat except for one lonely protuberance in the middle: the mound of rock containing the tomb that had held the Savior’s body for three days but couldn’t keep him in.
And yet, as Rex scanned the work site, his eyes shifted to a second mound about a stone’s throw from the empty tomb. This rocky mound, too, hadn’t been removed. The workers clearly could have done so, which meant the little hill was intended to be preserved just like the rock that contained the holy tomb. What is it?
Bishops Macarius and Eusebius were busy explaining the construction plans to Helena. Rex caught the attention of little Cyril, the boy who served Macarius, and waved him over. “What’s that second hill over there?”
“Golgotha,” Cyril answered. “Or Calvary as they call it in your tongue. The Place of the Skull.”
“Yes, of course,” Rex said, shaking his head with some embarrassment that he hadn’t identified the hillock. The site was so transformed that he was a bit disoriented. Yet now Rex recognized the place. The local authorities used to crucify criminals on that hill, back in the days when this area was outside Hierusalem’s walls. It was a chunk of unquarried stone near a gate that led from the city to the garden. Crosses had stood there for many years, until Hadrian built his temple platform and put a lascivious idol of Aphrodite right on the place of crucifixion. With all the landmarks gone, it wasn’t easy to recognize what was what, but Cyril’s reminder made everything fall into place.
Bishop Macarius called Cyril back to his side. “I want to show Her Majesty the size of the church we’re planning,” he told the boy. “You know where the corner markers are. Go run the outline so the empress can imagine it.”
Cyril dutifully obeyed, smiling and waving from each marker before running the line to the next one. Soon he had traced the full rectangle of the intended basilica and returned to his original spot.
“Aha!” Helena exclaimed. “I see it now. It’s big!”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Macarius agreed. “It will be just as your son commanded, so the new church might be worthy of such a holy place.” He turned back to the work site and called out, “Cyril! Show the queen the courtyard too!”
Cyril nodded, then ran the four corners of a planned courtyard that would surround the Lord’s tomb. An encasing structure would be built around the rock-cut tomb to protect it from the elements, but otherwise it would be open to the sky. One wall of the courtyard would be the façade of the new church, while the other three would enclose the area within a colonnade, forming a quiet and sheltered place for worshiping the Risen Christ.
“And will Golgotha be inside the courtyard too?” Helena asked. “I have in mind to search the earth around it for fragments of our Lord’s cross.”
“It will also be enclosed,” Macarius said, “and we can consider such excavations another day.”
As the bishop of Hierusalem spoke these words, he glanced at Eusebius for the briefest of moments. Just then, Rex felt Flavia poke him. “Did you see that?” she whispered as she leaned close. “It’s what I’ve been telling you! Those two are at odds with Helena for some reason.” Rex nodded and turned his attention back to the empress, resolving to keep an eye on this matter and see where it would lead.
About a week later, Rex and Flavia were eating a midday meal at Glory House when Cyril showed up, dirt-smudged and out of breath. “You have to come see this!”
Rex smiled at the boy’s enthusiasm. “What is it?”
“A secret tunnel! Deep under the foundations of Hadrian. Come quick! The workers just discovered it.”
“Have you told Macarius?”
“Not yet.”
“Keep it a secret,” Rex advised, then rose from the table and followed Cyril with Flavia at his side.
