Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 1

 

Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 1

© 2021 by Amber Wright

AUTUMN, A.D. 93

Roman Province of Lydia.

Fifteen year-old Junia Gaius heard the old crippled man at the gate playing his pipes before she saw him. His bony, tanned, weathered fingers danced along as his melody transposed the cool morning air into music.

She paused, taking in his beautifully soft music, and the air gently blew against her darkly tanned face. If only every day was like this one, the world would indeed be a better place to live in. To dream in. To believe in. To do something in. But she was just a girl, a tiny pebble on the beach called life. What good could she do?

Through the years, through her dreams, she traveled far. She imagined herself far away…beyond those Lydian mountains peaking in the distance, past the meadows filled with ripening crops, downstream the bubbling Cayster River. Somewhere where she had never been before. If she could only manage to marry a rich man or perhaps a merchant who traveled far, her dreams would come true. “But I will probably marry…nobody.”

The words that came from Junia startled her, and she felt the blood rush into her cheeks. She handed the old beggar the loaf of bread and piece of fish in a rush, as she did every morning, heat flaming her face.

The beggar set his pipes down in his lap and nodded to her with a bow. “Thank you, my young Fil’os.”

“You are most welcome.”

The beggar’s beady black eyes twinkled. “Maybe you will marry a traveler, yes? But no rich man or merchant. That would not suit you.”

“A good morning to you, my Fil’os.” Junia felt her feet fly. She did a quick wave to the smiling old man as he began to eat his bread and fish.

The beggar waved his fish in a farewell with another little bow, eastern fashion.

Junia’s thoughts whirled as a cyclone as she strode along the dusty road to the well. Soon she was building castles in the air, fuzzy clouds between each castle and every mound of earth. Whoever said I must be realistic? I must enjoy my youth while I can. Tomorrow I can do the good I have been wanting to do since I can first remember. Perhaps a little house for children? Or a big house for beggars like my old friend at the gate? She smiled, I have plenty of time yet before I am grown. Perhaps tomorrow Judith and I… She heard a shuffle of feet and robe coming up behind her; her thoughts jammed.

“Junia!” She heard her best friend Judith’s voice. “Wait for me. I have something—important,” the rest was a gasp.

Junia turned around, shading her eyes from the bright rays of morning sunshine. “Good morning, my Fil’os.”

“Good morning but—ah,” seventeen year-old Judith stopped her run and gasped out the rest, “I have something very—important to—tell you.”

“Yes?”

“Wait. I’m quite—winded—just now.”

“Don’t leave me waiting too long. You know how everyone gets when they’re hungry.”

Judith broke into a laugh, nodding her orange veiled head. “Especially my brother, yes.”

“Especially your brother!” Junia agreed with a laugh. Then, a teasing thought popped from her. “Ah Judith, have we news of our Fil’os, Rufus?”

Judith’s face reddened. “Nicolas didn’t tell—”

“I see your cheeks are as rosy as twilight,” Junia broke into another laugh. “Did Rufus give you more flowers?”

Judith finished her walk slowly, clutching the side which always ached her after a run. “You’ll never believe what has happened!”

Junia felt her breath quicken. What was Judith saying? Was there really news of her and Rufus? They barely knew each other. Or had she missed something? She readjusted the waterpot on her hip, watching her friend’s brown eyes flame with excitement. Steady yourself, Junia…here it comes. Farewell childhood.

Junia mustered up a smile, knowing what was coming next. “What? What makes you so happy this morning? You look like sunshine itself.”

“I feel it!” Judith closed her eyes, lifting her face to the warming October sun.

This is it. “Yes, and?”

Judith popped her eyes back open, set her waterpot onto the dew-kissed dirt road and took Junia by the shoulders. “I’m getting married!”

The three words hit Junia like a clap of thunder. Judith was betrothed. She thought maybe her intuition had been wrong. But no, she had been right…as usual. Her best friend was getting married. Now she would be single alone…with nobody close like Judith to talk to.

Sure, there were other girls her age but nothing like the sister-type like Judith. And sure, she and Judith would still talk but Judith would be a married girl filled with topics such as keeping a house, raising children, beginning a family. There would no trips to the wooded hills to gather berries or time to share giggling stories as they always had. Judith’s time would be spent at her house during the day, and then her husband would be there in the evenings.

Junia shook her wits together after one long moment of shock, and found Judith waiting for her to speak.

“I’m so happy for you,” the words nearly choked her but she continued. “I’m happy for both of you! When did Rufus ask?”

“Last evening after supper,” Judith’s eyes were dancing. “I wanted to tell you straightway but it was getting dark. So I told you now.”

“Rufus is a very nice fellow and you two will make a very fine pair. I’m sure your mother is overjoyed.”

“Quite.” Judith picked up her waterpot and began skipping down the road towards the well. “I feel like dancing all day long. Something inside me is just bursting! It’s such a wonderful feeling to be…”

“Rufus’ potential wife.” Junia finished off for her with a grin. “So natural. I knew your betrothal would soon be in the making the first day you two met.”

“Did you? You looked quite in a state of shock just a moment ago.” Judith teased, halfway turning around to give her an impish grin.

“Well, I suppose you knew all along.” Junia teased her back. “Why else would you be looking at him with such adoration? And he was twice as bad.”

“No, he wasn’t!” Shock crossed Judith’s face. “He’s never been wicked in the least.”

“I didn’t mean bad,” Junia corrected herself. “I just meant that he had twice the adoration in his eyes. I know Rufus is a good young man.”

Judith waved Junia on as she began skipping again. “Come along, my dear, and let’s get our water drawn before the sun climbs overhead.”

“And if it did,” Junia picked up her unintentionally dragging feet, “don’t blame me. You talk just as much as I do.”

“Yes, and I still have loads more to talk about.” Judith threw over her shoulder. “So hurry! Just wait until you hear how he proposed…”

“I’ll be there,” Junia muttered, and smiled at a passing woman coming from the well with a filled waterpot.

By the time Junia reached the well the other women and girls had gathered, filling their waterpots. As she stood in line at the well, her eyes scanned the group for her new friend, Andronika, who had just moved there with her mother, the Widow Martha.

Meanwhile, Judith chatted nonstop about Rufus proposing on bended knee. Bended knee? While that sounds romantic, I hope my future husband does not do that. He’s only making it clear which type a wife he wishes to have—an overly meek wife who will take to begging her husband for necessities. But of course, Rufus will give everything Judith had need of…I trust. She laughed and listened to Judith’s endless prattle about Rufus while they filled their waterpots; meanwhile, her eyes swept swiftly around.

Letting Judith talk, she had a chance to analyze that fair morning. The sky was beautifully blue, without a cloud. The birds were chirping louder than usual. The women’s tongues around them were quieter than most mornings but still sounded like a nonstop buzz. And the air felt bright and warm despite the fact that another wet, chilly winter would soon be on. Finally, as she was finishing filling her waterpot, she saw the widow Martha walking slowly to the well with a downcast face.

Instantly, Junia knew something was wrong…just by observing the woman’s sad expression and red-rimmed eyes. True, Junia had seen Martha’s eyes red from crying in recent weeks, still grieving the loss of her husband, but there was something about her lifeless expression. Those sad eyes.

Andronika.

Junia’s warmth suddenly left her and a chill replaced her sunny, upcoming-wedding thoughts. Andronika was not with her. Perhaps something had happened to her, she could not know what. She watched the woman arrive with slumped shoulders and searched her weathered face for any clues. But there was only blankness.

Junia let go of the well’s spindle and it creaked down for the next person to draw their water. She gave Martha a hug. “Good morning, my dear Fil’os.”

“Good morning,” said a cracked voice belonging to the widow, “my child.”

“Did Andronika not come with you?” Junia felt she must speak to the woman to try to soothe her hurt somehow, in some way.

Martha broke into a quiet weeping. Surely Andronika is not ill unto death, worrisome Junia feared the worst. “What of Andronika, Martha? Is she ill?”

“No, she is not ill,” was Martha’s reply with a sniff.

Junia let out a breath of relief, but her relief was soon shattered when Martha told her the terrible news. Andronika had left home yesterday, leaving a piece of papyrus behind on the table for her mother to read when she came back from selling cloth at the weaver’s shop. Martha spoke slowly and Junia bit onto her lip, not quite understanding why and where Andronika had gone.

“Gone—but to where? Has she gone far?”

“Far?” Martha looked past her with a vacant stare. “Yes, far, and I fear she will no more return.”

No more return? Junia’s heart stopped. She blurted out the first thing that popped into her head. “Has she married a merchant who has taken her—?”

She stopped, watching Martha sadly shake her head with tears silently dripping down her weathered cheeks.

“She is in the city.” Martha wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I lost my husband to a watery grave. I lost my money and house to the tax collectors. And now I lose my daughter—my only child—in the city.”

“But perhaps we can find her,” Junia began hopefully; then, she stopped. Andronika had written she would never return. But what did that mean? She would surely return someday—she must.

“No child,” Martha let out in a slight croak. “She has taken to the streets—for hire.”

A Few Greek Words:

Fil'os: friend

Meh'tehr: mother

Pah'tehr: father

Adher'fi: sister

Adher'fos: brother