Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 21

Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 21

© 2021 by Amber Wright

WRETCHED TIMES

A solemn gulp, “You have my promise.”

“I’ll marry Andronika.” Alexander's eyes paralyzed in fear.

Demetrius let go of his friend's tunic, replaced his dagger into its sheath and stormed away, disturbed both in spirit and mind. He would never kill his best friend—but he had had to use such a threat because of the situation. Any girl deserved no less. Andronika deserved to be married, and their newborn baby deserved to be part of a real family.

Demetrius remembered his mother’s sad eyes when the man she had loved had left her in the dust and married another girl. It had broken his mother’s heart and, shortly after they learned of Lucius’ birth, his mother had silently faded away…

“My Hui’os,” she had spoken to him—her son, her only child—in a thin, tired voice. “Choose not the ways of your father. Don’t break a girl’s heart or ruin them. It will be a curse for you if you do. Do not, my Hui’os, do not…”

He had promised her, holding her bony hand tight. As the sun slipped behind the trees from the view of an open window of the hut they were staying in, Demetrius heard his mother sigh once. Twice. Then her tight grip in his hand had released. Stiffly, it began to grow cold. How he had cried. He had cursed his father who had done this evil to his mother. He had cursed the gods for making it happen. He had grown into a cold, old man at the age of nine.

…Demetrius closed his hands over his face, remembering. Ever since then memories had been a curse to him. He wanted no part with them now…but they always seemed to linger. Now, new bad memories had taken their place and he was very much hardened once again. But deep inside, the hurt remained—so deep that no one on this earth would ever know. Now that he had paid off his father’s debt to the Romans, he plundered for his own wealth. Let the sword try to bar his way, he would not flinch…or care. Life would be as he had always known it—unfathomably unjust.

He could get used to the pain...almost. He wrinkled his face into a scowl. No time for silly sentiments. Or regrets. He had made his path. Now he had to walk in it.

~

The news of Judith's family house getting broken into buzzed through the church, and Deacon Demas was the most alarmed and fiercest accuser.

“This is getting entirely out of hand!” Deacon Demas said brazenly in the Gaius' home one evening as they were supping. “We must put a stop to it before our church gets robbed,” he shot Junia a fiery glance, “again.”

Junia knew why he added “again” so quickly as if he meant to say it in one complete sentence. But she was too quick to understand. Deacon Demas was afraid if the band robbed the church’s treasury they would rob it the way they always did—how robbers usually do, by breaking into a place and prying the money boxes open. The band—which included the once-before-accused-thief Demetrius himself—never left doors, windows or money boxes unbroken because they had no keys for them. When the church had been robbed before, the money had simply disappeared. The thief was somebody who had the keys.

“How can we tame an unbroken horse,” her father spoke gravely, furrowing his brows keenly, “that has once started on a bad road with no bridle? We can only conquer by love, and not by force.”

Junia’s chest swelled with pride as her father spoke those words. If only the rest of the deacons would speak this way Deacon Demas would not get his hateful way so much. As much as she hated to admit, Deacon Demas’ hateful ways affected her…almost to the infecting point. He made her feel so bitter.

“I believe in love,” Deacon Demas’ hesitant words sounded as if the subject was either entirely new to him or else he had no experience in it whatsoever, “but a time comes when love is turned into force, Junius. I can’t begin to think how God would expect us to love that devil as much as one of us—really.”

Junia watched him stop tactfully with a sly smile.

“We must look well after our own flock and see that no trouble will break out among them. The evil has been taken away and we must see that the same evil will not reenter.”

Junia felt her chest heave silently, so she took slow breaths. No point showing Deacon Demas her roiling emotions when there was no need to. How can he sit there so calm and sanctimonious when speaking—and living!—such a lie? Demetrius did not steal the money. He knows that. It had been somebody near who was so qualified for the deed. Somebody who was tricky enough to not get caught. Somebody experienced, older, more knowledgeable…somebody with the keys. She took a deep breath to settle her unsteady heartbeat, just thinking about it all.

She pinned another question-thought at him, Really Deacon Demas, who can tell that you aren’t the evil? How about YOU being taken away, and we’ll see how much better things get around here. And his theory of love was simply out of the question.

“I must admit,” Deacon Demas chuckled out, almost humorously, “I hate him with perfect hatred like the Psalms say.”

Junia stared at the deacon. How could that man dare speak such wicked “interpretations” of Scripture in their house? Such weeds of deceit! Jesus told them to love their enemy. How much more should they love their brother or sister who had fallen?

Before she could stop herself, Junia felt the words shoot from her lips. “We don’t live in the day of the law, but of God’s grace. For by God’s grace we Gentiles have had a chance.”

“Young lady,” Deacon Demas' sneering smile turned into a frown. “What your little mind doesn’t think she knows.”

Junia bit her bottom lip and fell silent. After a few more “interpretations”, she excused herself and carried her dishes to the kitchen. Her mind raced with worrisome thoughts.

Junia's head still throbbed as she crawled into bed that night. Her skull pulsated as it lay on her pillow, a headache threatening her into even more wretched pain. She took a few deep breaths, then closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Why do I have to get so affected…or is it infected? Hmm…I think it’s both. Morning found her still battling sleep.

As morning light filtered through the latticed windows, Junia stood and stretched, feeling both dizzy and weak. She dressed, washed and then entered the kitchen where her mother was preparing breakfast. The smell of fresh air and cooked meat met her nostrils. She inhaled a deep breath. It made her feel less pain, a little more alive.

“Good morning, Meh’tehr.” Junia feigned a cheerfulness she did not quite feel. Her head still throbbed from lack of sleep—and from last evening.

In silence Junia began to help with the breakfast, and her mother kept giving her worried glances. She was never this silent. But she could not force words from her aching head…even on this fresh, sunny morning.

“Pah’tehr is out checking the grapes.” Eunice kneaded the ball of dough vigorously, glancing up again. “They should be ripening now. Soon will be time to harvest in the crop.”

Junia gave her mother a silent nod, feeling blank of words. Usually, she loved this time of the year. Harvesting grapes, eating grapes, drying grapes. But today she felt a million years old…and yet it seemed to her that only yesterday they were pruning the grapevines. Time seemed to slip by too quickly nowadays, so she thought as she sliced the bright red vegetable and dumped it into the bowl of cooked meat and spices.

“Judith’s wedding will be right around the same time to harvest.” Eunice shaped small rounds of dough to make the deliciously light wheat buns Junia loved.

“Everything’s coming up on us.” Junia forced a smile and stirred the bowl of red sauce that they dipped their wheat buns into.

Suddenly, Nicolas and Lucius stepped into the kitchen from the courtyard, Nicolas wearing a smile and Lucius wearing a smirk. Both wore plain white tunics and bands around their heads. Nicolas’ hair was messy and Lucius’ hair was sticking flat onto his forehead. If only Lucius didn’t snarl so much, he would be a nice-looking little boy. He gave her a snarl—as if he had read her thoughts—and looked away.

“Good morning.” Eunice looked at them in surprise. “What brings you two here at such an early hour?”

Nicolas held up a linen sack that smelled strongly of the Cayster River, Junia was quick to notice. Now his face is always full smile—that is, when he isn’t irritated. She emptied the bowl of red sauce into a pot to heat up, and a little blob of stain-able redness landed on her white sleeve.

“Fish.” Nicolas grinned and pointed to Lucius. “We caught a good catch and thought we’d like to share some with you people.”

“Thank you.” Eunice nodded towards her. “Please put it away, Junia. I’ll watch the sauce.”

Junia handed her mother the spoon and took the sack of fish. A few droplets of fishy water added to her already-staining sleeve. She felt a growl inside her. Why did food have to be a nuisance sometimes? She pushed the sack of fish inside the cooler, a cubbyhole made of thick rock.

“Hello, Junia.” Nicolas attempted to smooth his messy hair.

“Hello.” Then Junia busied herself with making breakfast again. The stain on her sleeve was growing wider, almost noticeable.

“Why don’t you stay for breakfast?” Eunice invited the boys, shaping more wheat buns with floury hands.

“That sounds nice.”

Junia heard Nicolas agree and saw that even sneering Lucius looked pleased. She groaned inwardly as she returned to stirring the sauce. I have to put up with both of them! I’m not in a talkative mood. Oh, brother. Nicolas is going to wear his jaws out talking—and expecting answers—and Lucius is going to wear my nerves, snarling away at me. What a trial! Perfect.

~

Breakfast passed quickly, somehow. The topic at the table had been about Demetrius, the thieving band and their latest robbery. Junia felt her throat constrict as her bites grew more small, even slower.

She was finishing her last bite when she heard Nicolas declare, “If you need any more fish, we’ll bring you come. We’re going right away.”

“That would fine, Nicolas, Lucius. And thank you, you two.” Junius said warmly, finishing his cup of milk.

“You’re welcome,” said brightly by Nicolas and grumbled by Lucius.

It’s not that I think Lucius is so bad, but…well, he’s just…Lucius. Junia thought, noting the difference in the boys' tones when they spoke. Good riddance when he leaves. Both of them, in fact! They have such perfect breakfast manners. What a topic to talk about when you’re eating—robbery and murders! She exhaled a breath as their heads disappeared into the courtyard. “Thank goodness.”

Her mother shot her a questioning glance, one eyebrow arched.

“I’m glad they’re gone.” Junia explained, visibly relaxed after holding her breath throughout the whole breakfast without realizing it. “What a good riddance!”

Eunice looked back at her sharply. “They’re nice boys, Junia. Don’t speak like that.”

“I can’t stand them.” Junia returned with a shrug, meaning she could not stand anything that had to do with the infecting Deacon Demas. And holding her breath during breakfast had certainly not made things any better. Now she felt breathless, almost oxygen-less and quite irritated.

“Junia!” Eunice sounded shocked. “You must love everyone.”

“Well, I won’t!” Junia fled the kitchen and up the steps until she reached the upstairs latticed summer room.

There she threw herself onto a couch and found her body shaking with sobs. Enough was enough, and too much was most wretched. She lay there facedown, pouring out her tears onto the couch as King David had done so many, many years before her. How could she cope with herself when she felt so horrible inside? Every time the subject of Demetrius was mentioned, she felt herself squeeze inside in pain, confusion. How could she love those people who were so unjust? God, what’s happening to me? Why can’t I love anymore? Help me, please!

And Junia, who had often prayed for grace for her friends in lowly positions such as Demetrius and Andronika, began her prayer for grace.

~

Junia still lay facedown on the couch with a wet face when she heard voices in the rooms below her. She sat up on one elbow, straining her ears to hear who the voices belonged to. Tiria’s brazen voice loudly answered for her. So her sister-in-law, Phebe, and Tiria had come for a morning chat. Well, she would not be there for the chat. She would simply…disappear. And sorry, Tiria, you just missed Nicolas.

Before she could be called down, she silently rushed into her bedroom and washed her face. She grabbed her darkest veil, the night blue one, and opened her window wider. She stepped over the windowsill onto the ledge to walk along the wall that met the narrow escape steps which ended in the side garden.

Just as her feet touched the last step, she heard her mother calling her name above. Almost didn't make it, she smiled wryly, quite outside and safe from another horrible conversation that would be brought up. She drew a breath. Now, to escape the garden. She threw the loose ends of her veil over both shoulders and slipped through the side gate which opened onto a dirt path leading to the wheat field at the edge of town. I’m not going to talk to Tiria—of all people!—when I’m this upset. I simply—will—not. The breeze was cool against her face. Now, this fresh air is doing me good. I wonder why people live in houses anyway when it’s so nice outside? I guess that’s what you call civilization. She inhaled the fresh air deeply, feeling her irritation slip away by the seconds. Being outside did her wonders.

Junia began to skip, then stopped herself. She was fifteen, grown up…or, nearly grown up. Besides, skipping was meant for people in blithe moods, not for brooding moods like she was in. She felt her feet glide over the soft dirt path, softening her mood. The trail ended in the wheat field and there she paused, watching the harvesters work swiftly with their blades. Behind them at a safe distance, the gleaners gleaned. Her keen eyes scanned the golden field and found her sister’s husband working near the trail. He was waving cheerfully, and so she waved back brightly in spite of herself. Linus was such a cheerful fellow, it was hard not to imitate him.

She still stood there, planted onto the trail, when Linus came over. She tore her gaze from the flashing blades cutting the golden wheat that swayed in the breeze and her attention from the gentle sound of rustling wheat, the mulberry leaves from nearby trees and the singing autumn breezes. Alert, she looked up at her big brother-in-law.

“Hello there, Adher’fi.” Linus flashed a bright, white-teeth-filled smile. “Anything for me to eat or drink? Or anything special to tell me?”

“No.” Junia frowned, scrunching a part of her veil at her shoulder. “I just started walking and I ended up here.”

“Got a trouble to tell your old brother-in-law?” Linus arched a brow. “Have any boys been plaguing you lately?”

“I’ve got troubles alright,” she said in a huff, “but I don’t know where to begin!”

“Poor Junia.” Linus stood there with a twisted smile. “Is it with Lucius or Nicolas?”

“Neither!” Junia declared vehemently and wrinkled up her nose at the mention of those names, her headache of that morning. “My trouble’s with Lucius’ father, Deacon Demas himself.”

“Surely no trouble, Junia.” Linus stared at her with shocked dark eyes. “He’s a married man. A deacon.”

A Few Greek Words:

Fil'os: friend

Meh'tehr: mother

Pah'tehr: father

Adher'fi: sister

Adher'fos: brother