Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 17

 

Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 17

© 2021 by Amber Wright

PAIN SO GREAT

When Junia heard the news about Demetrius from her father, she had to leave the house. She needed a little time to think, pray, sort out her thoughts.

Streets turned into blurs. Pain.

She paced the city, overcome by the tragedy of it all. Her life indeed felt like a net of despair, catching all of the bad moments of life in one season. Her head thickened as thoughts continued to grow in her head. Deep thoughts. Thoughts of her friends…so brutally cast out without a second chance. Without a hand to extend mercy. Without even a prayer to leave by.

Why did life have to be so…unjust?

Junia cast her doubtful thoughts aside. If there was only one person in this city who would fight for the justice of the weak in faith, she would be that person. She must endure. Face her inner pain. Keep her promise. Yet, why did she feel like she had betrayed Demetrius by keeping silent? She could have saved him. If only she had. But a promise was a promise.

Junia walked down the uneven streets, not caring which direction she took. Her feet moved forward. Always forward. She passed people…staring people. But she did not care. She did not wish to speak, to utter a word. She only wanted her questions answered. One day. She dared not hope for sooner. Her thoughts began to lessen its grip, become more calm. She felt more at peace with herself in the unjust world she lived in.

She sat down without a thought, feeling a little ache in her right ankle. It must have hit against a stone without her realizing. With clamped eyes shut, she tried to blank her mind to ease its pain. If only she would wake up—and call this a nightmare. If only she walked in her sleep just now. But no, her thoughts shouted back to her. She was not dreaming. She would not wake up. This was harsh reality in its very worst season.

She must endure.

Junia opened her eyes to find herself sitting where the old beggar man usually sat in the mornings. Only, she sat there. Alone. Begging, not for food but for fulfillment. What could she beg of this life when her soul was so cast down? Peace in the midst of pain. If only… If only it did not have to hurt this bad. If only.

Junia looked up from her begging place. There were the harlots coming and going from the well—for it was midday. She watched them with dull eyes. So many beggars in this world, all different kinds with different reasons. Her heart felt as heavy as the boulder she sat upon. Demetrius…why did you lie? Why did you take Deacon Demas’ blame? You had your chance! And now…you’re gone. Gone!

Her father’s words echoed into her ears, He pleaded guilty. There was nothing I could do. They had decided. And that had been that. Now her friend was gone, an outcast of the city. Outcasts like the harlots drawing water. Outcasts like the poor people in their shambles, too afraid to be noticed. Outcasts like the ones who were different and dared not speak until spoken to. Outcasts like the ones who nobody believed in. A warm, wet dribble dripped down her cheeks and onto her neck. Why did she suddenly feel like them—an outcast? Because she was one.

When Junia raised her eyes from the ground, she saw a bulging-stomached Andronika among the harlots coming from the well. Her friend did a little wave as she walked by.

“Shalom, Andronika.” Junia returned the little wave, tried to smile through her tears. She must be brave…and smile when she did not feel like it. She must be the sunshine when there was no sun filling the sky of her heart.

When Andronika had gone, Junia stood up to face the day. Her stroll took her through the market street where people of all shapes, sizes and ages made a conglomeration of noise. Among the faces, she found a stone-faced Deacon Demas, a sneering Lucius and a smirking Tiria. All three passed her without recognition. Even though she expected this, it still stung. She was, after all, a human with feelings that were not made of stone.

But she must smile if she would survive. This earth.

~

The blue sky vibrated in Andronika’s vision as she felt herself being dragged by men wearing the robes of the clergy. Her shoulders sagged with exhaustion. Would the dragging never end? To where and who were they taking her? She struggled to take in air, her heart pumping from their rapid journey.

Voices mingled into her ears like clanking chains. It made her head ache. The noise melted into one voice.

“There He is.”

Andronika squinted to see the men who had dragged her there as bright sunlight filled the air. One face stood out from the rest, a man with a thin set of nostrils and beady eyes. “Demas!”

“She is here, Master,” Demas’ voice chilled her, “the wretched harlot who deserves to die.”

“See her mark of the harlot? ” Abner held up her braid threaded with a silk ribbon and pointed to her bulging stomach. “And she is with child, unmarried. Condemn her, Master. She is unfit to live! ”

Behind her, Andronika heard the shouts of humans calling for her blood. Condemning her…before the Master had given a Word.

“Unclean! ”

“Unfit to live! Stone her! ”

The shouts mingled into one. “Stone her!”

“Did she not return to you as I told her to? ” the Master silenced the noise with His voice. “I said she could repent. What has she now done? Tell Me. I will listen. I am just.”

“Oh Master, she went out from us because she was not of us.” Diotrephes spoke in a mild lamentation. “We told her that her child cannot be saved. Master, by the law You gave us, this woman should be stoned. Judge her, Master.”

“Have I not told you, you blind guides! ” the Master spoke with authority and Andronika trembled under its impact for His voice spoke power. “He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone! Then, and only then, will I consent.”

Andronika felt bruises forming on her arms where the men still gripped them, not letting her go.

“Let the law be done! ” Demas shouted to the gathering crowd, his countenance changing into that of a fanged jackal. “Let the church’s will be done. She is worthy of death. Stone the harlot. Stone her! ”

They pushed her into the empty circle and she thumped onto the ground, lifeless and arms skinning against the stones that would soon be hurled onto her. She watched Demas pick up the first stone, not waiting for the Master to give His order.

Andronika waited for the stones.

The stones came. They hurled from all sides, denting her flesh, breaking her skin, piercing her veins. She could even feel the bones crackling inside her. And then she wanted to die. To be in peace. To not feel pain. To be in another place where there were no accusers.

But then she saw Junia.

Junia started towards her from the crowd, and she swallowed the blood that was rising in her throat. If I live, I will be her friend even if she would become the lowest on earth. Even if I was her and she was me. Her vision blurred and she lowered her eyes. She must not let her enemies see her cry for they would only triumph over her weakness.

“Do not stone my Child! ” Andronika heard the Master’s voice command loudly, sternly.

But the man-following crowd stoned her all the more. Blood rose in her throat, nearly choking her.

Her Master continued. “I have found her worthy of life through My blood.”

“Stone her! ” Demas shouted even louder. “She is a harlot and she will die! ”

“Wait! She is God’s child.” A muffled voice from Junia spoke from the crowd. “Who is worthy to stone her? Look at our hands…stained from sin. Everyone, wait! ”

“Jesus! Master…save me.” The blood began to choke her. Andronika let out a ragged gasp as she clawed at the powdery ground, crawling forward through the rain of stones. Blood dripped through her nose and mixed into the dirt below her. “Save…me.”

Then He stretched out His hands to her—His child—and His voice melted away her pain and panic of death. “Come unto Me, My child. All that are weak, hopeless, lost, weary. Come unto Me and I will give you rest.”

She felt His fingers touch her and strength entered her like a spring of life. His words soothed away the hurt.

“And I will be with you…always.”

She would not let go of His hands—her Master’s hands. “I am not worthy, my God. Help my unbelief!”

…Andronika palmed the air in that darkness, eyes still closed and wet, still whispering. Still holding to God by faith. “I am not worthy, my God. Help my unbelief…”

~

Days passed—days that seemed like a ceaseless cycle of everyone else’s life: going to the well in the mornings and evenings, cooking, cleaning and eating meals. Junia felt a millstone of heaviness fill her throughout the long days. Even Judith’s upcoming wedding brought no abundant joy to her troubled heart whenever she thought of her two friends, Demetrius and Andronika, now seemingly so lost to her…and lost from God. Every day was a battle of prayer, faith and trying to keep believing.

By now, Andronika’s name was rarely spoken of. But the name of Demetrius was frequently spoken in derision or in contempt. Every time she heard his name, her heart felt even heavier. Where was he and what was he doing? The news did not sound good.

Tiria was now smugger than ever and leached onto Nicolas—to Junia’s amusement for Nicolas seemed to half-see the girl even if Tiria was standing right beside him. But then, Tiria was Tiria.

And now, Nicolas started up the subject of Demetrius with a smirk at Tiria who enjoyed his cutting conversations. “Did you hear that Demetrius is now the Captain of that thieving band in the mountains?”

“You don’t say!” Tiria’s voice laced in mock. “How can that be? That little angel could not possibly be such a thing. You must be mistaken.”

“Surely you are mistaken, Nicolas.” Junia felt her heart stop as she pinned a hard stare at the boy.

Nicolas returned her icy stare, his tone exasperated. “I’m not this time, Junia. If you don’t believe me, ask Rufus himself. He was coming over the mountains last week and was robbed, and the thieves told him themselves that their new captain was a man by name of Demetrius Aenos.”

“There could be another man by that name.” Junia stubbornly refused to believe that Demetrius was a captain of a robber band.

“Impossible.” Nicolas snorted.

“There could be.” Junia insisted a little less certain, trying to convince herself but failing for a lump of fear and disappointment rose in her throat. No God, please, she screamed inside. Please let this all be a mistake—please!

~

Andronika crept up those familiar steps once again, holding onto her large stomach that even her large cloak could not hide. Her hood was drawn over her shiny brown braid and she wore a simple white robe with long, wide sleeves.

Andronika inhaled a breath to steady herself, started to climb again. She hoped nobody would hear her. If only. But there were no “ifs” in her world now. She had made her choices in life, dreadful as they were. Now, she needed to climb those steps—make that climb—once more. Tonight.

Nobody see me, please, she begged the air. A little fear nagged her insides. Would somebody hear her and accuse her of the thefts done recently in the goldsmith shop across the street? She knew who had done it but she would keep her mouth shut…or suffer the consequences.

Once close to the familiar window with the one-piece-cloth curtain, she heard her mother praying and crying softly as last time. “…Please Lord, she is as if she is dead to me. I cannot bear…”

Andronika closed her eyes, smiled faintly and kissed the frame of the window for a final farewell. That was all she could do to say goodbye. She was leaving. She would no longer disgrace her mother in the city. Her mother might yet cry for her but at least she would be where her mother would know. Safe…and safely out of the way of gossip.

Stealthily, Andronika crept back down the steps and headed towards a gate that was still open at this late hour. As she passed the gate, the guards on duty waved her on and did not question her, knowing who she was. She asked herself grimly, Would they still wave me on if they knew what I am about to do? She walked on, alongside the dirt road under the light of the full moon and twinkling stars.

~

A dark-hooded figure stepped out of the gate behind the girl called Andronika, slowly trailing along several paces behind her. He watched her footsteps from the shadows, creeping along from bush to bush. Where was she going at this very late hour in the nighttime?

His mission could wait a few more seconds.

Marcus crept along, avoiding twigs and stones that would make noise. He followed her, never knowing what the following moments would bring. Never realizing that he would be born for this day, placed upon earth as an angel in the form of flesh.

~

Andronika approached the Cayster River. It looked so quiet and peaceful, flowing in that flat stretch of grassy ground. The silky grass appeared as silver strands in that bright moonlight, rippling gently with each breeze. The fresh, water-scented air filled her lungs and almost made her glad she was still alive. Almost, but not quite enough to stop her now.

What a peaceful river, she thought, pausing to take in the sight and sound of the gurgling Cayster River, in a peaceful valley on a peaceful night. Peaceful, the word reminded her of where she wanted to be. She would rest peacefully with her unborn baby in the land of the unknown, together. The world did not want them. They were too dirty, too ill-thought of, too unclean to live among the rest of the earth. At that thought, she jutted her chin up proudly and walked on. But deep inside her, no matter how hard her heart had grown, pain stung her as she realized why she was there. At the river. Tonight.

Unwanted, the word hung to her like a shroud. She found her lips trembling but resolutely shook her head. She would forget that word. She did not care. Not tonight. For tonight, she would triumph over the world that did not want her. She would rid herself of them and they would be rid of her. She drew a shaky breath; then, she stopped at the edge of the glossy, rippling waters of the Cayster River. How hard would it be? Could she actually…?

Andronika tossed her hood back along with her shiny brown braid, scolding herself. It was simple enough. Just… She took another shaky breath, held onto her stomach now fully bulged. The time of her delivery was near. It made her heartbeat tremor, realizing what she was going to do. What if her stomach ripped open in the process? Well, she would not think of that. That was too ridiculous to think of now. And too late. Feeling her full stomach made her churn inside. She was still unmarried.

“God, forgive me.” Andronika whispered through the night air, looking down at her bulging stomach. The waters looked so peaceful. So near. “God, forgive me!”

Then she took one leap.

A Few Greek Words:

Fil'os: friend

Meh'tehr: mother

Pah'tehr: father

Adher'fi: sister

Adher'fos: brother