Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 24

 

Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 24

© 2021 by Amber Wright

LAST BREATH

Demetrius watched the old man approach him as guilt tore inside him as he stood beneath the low boughs of that mulberry tree.

“Demetrius, my Fil’os, I would die for you—if need be. But Christ has died for you already and paid your debt so you might be free—forever!”

I want to be free…forever. Demetrius stared at Elder John as he came closer. I do—God, I do! Forgive this hand that has done so much evil. Here he eyed his right hand that had shed so much blood and had done so much evil. Then he cast his dagger to the mossy ground…to use no more…forever. His dark searching heart cried out in silence, wanting to be free—wanting life.

As the friend of the Master came nearer and stopped with a look of concern that could be felt, Demetrius trembled. He broke into a bitter, broken cry. He could feel the compassion and true brotherly love coming from this true man of God, Elder John. He hid his sinful right hand into the folds of his robe and embraced the old man, his knees shaking.

His voice cracked. “I have sinned, oh man of God, and do not deserve this hope of salvation!” Demetrius felt so unworthy to be called a Fil’os—a friend—by such a goodly man as the Master’s disciple. “Elder John, I—I want to…be free, but how can I? Oh God, please!”

“Oh my Fil’os who has fallen!” Elder John said slowly and Demetrius could see tears surfacing his wrinkly, thoughtful eyes. “The way to come back into the fold of our Savior is on our knees. Come, let us call upon the Master for your grace.”

And both aged man and young man fell to their knees on that mossy forest floor. As the birds and the forest animals were saying goodnight to each other nearby, it was then Demetrius was saying his own goodnight—to sin and the prison within.

~

Junia entered the room slowly, quietly. She heard a muffled crying and a baby’s whimpering. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the dimness of the room. One flickering oil lamp set on a table, making the room glow strangely with silent shadows dancing across the musty-smelling clay walls. A man’s raspy breathing met her ears as she closed the door behind her.

Alexander, yes. He was dying from the stab-wound Deacon Demas had so kindly given him. She shuddered at the thought and prayed her father and Elder John were safe. Prayed God would make everything turn out for His glory, and for His purpose. Please God… She habitually readjusted her veil and walked over to the kneeling girl beside the man on the bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a baby kicking and whimpering fretfully on a blanket on the floor, sucking loudly on her tiny fists. Baby Andronika—who she had not seen since delivering her.

“Andronika.” Junia whispered, not wishing to disturb her friend who knelt at the bedside of Alexander, and put her hand on her shoulder.

After a minute Andronika looked up, tears bubbling over her face. Her damp brown hair curled around her face and her dark eyes were blood-shot red. She wiped her dripping nose with the sleeve of her robe.

“Junia!” Andronika grabbed Junia’s hand in a panicky way. “I don’t want to lose him. I can’t! Please don’t let me lose him…”

Junia knelt beside her as Andronika buried her face into the sheet on the bed and shook with sobs. A minute passed. Then Alexander did a grating cough and Andronika lifted her face and wiped her eyes again. His brow lined with beads of perspiration and his eyes squeezed in pain, twisting oddly. Junia gave Andronika’s shoulder another encouraging squeeze and stood.

“I will get another cool rag.” Junia could almost feel death in the air.

She returned with the cool, wet rag as drunken shouts came through the thin walls. She shuddered. Night was beginning to fall outside. Would it be safe to travel home then? She did not care to be captured twice…or worse. The bier would have to wait—for a long, long time. She bit onto her bottom lip, then looked up. Alexander’s eyes were open now and looking around dazedly. Her breath caught. Fevered eyes. How long will he last? Until morning? Midnight? Sooner? An infant crying broke her thoughts, reminding her just why she was there.

“I believe little Andronika is crying for food.” Junia smiled grimly at Andronika and placed the cool rag onto Alexander’s burning forehead.

Andronika stood, blinked a few times and picked up her baby. The crying immediately stopped. As Junia focused on her surroundings, she chewed on a knuckle. One bed faced the door from the innermost wall; a rough, plank table set under the one and only window with two reed-woven chairs; and there was that little table beside the bed.

Junia squeezed another rag from the bowl of water and replaced the rag on Alexander’s forehead. His face still flamed with fever. If only the fever would break and the wound would stop bleeding. Please God, help, she could only sigh in silence, trusting, waiting, not knowing what else to ask.

She glanced around again, this time cringing. Around the edges of the room, lit up by the single oil lamp, she could see mold and cracks lining the exterior wall. There was a musty odor smell. Mold—what a place to live in! How she was grateful for the spacious, clean-smelling, mold-less, crack-less home she lived in. My home is a mansion compared to this. This place is only fit for the dump. Poor Andronika. Poor little Andronika. A movement from the bed caused her thoughts to break. She needed to center on her work again, changing Alexander’s rags.

Minutes passed…minutes that seemed like an eternity. Alexander’s neck grew red with heat, beaded with sweat, his throat slowly moving up and down with labored breathing. Junia glanced over her shoulder. Andronika held her baby in one of the reed chairs. She continued to walk from table to bed, from bed to table, changing the rags. The moments faded into one long nightmare. Am I really awake? Yes, Andronika is sniffing thickly, little Andronika is gurgling and Alexander is dying. The word stuck in her throat, and she held back a cry. Alexander was dying, slowly…one breath at a time.

A strange quietness filled the room as if the fingers of peace was settling over them all. The only voice Junia could hear was the little voice within her, telling her to keep going. Don’t stop. God has a purpose for everything under the heavens. Even this. She swallowed, listening. Wait. You shall see great things. She gulped, Like dying? God, I thought You answered when we prayed… Andronika needs him. Little Andronika needs her father. Please, God, help! But there was total silence.

Alexander stirred, opening his eyes. “Who are you?”

“I am Andronika’s friend, Junia.” Junia gulped in her silent tears and smiled at him bravely. “Both Andronikas.”

“Thank you…for delivering…little Andronika.” Alexander spoke with an effort, his chest heaving, his breath weak.

Junia glanced down and his bloody bandage caught her attention—his bloody bandage from his bleeding heart and punctured lungs, filling up by the second. Drip by drip. “I must change your bandage.”

As she was gathering the bandage and cleaning rags, Junia noticed that Andronika rocked her baby with dazed eyes. She gave her a small smile, hoping the daze would be broken. She gently tore away Alexander’s sticking bandage…and her heart grew faint. A jagged line was his wound, pink muscles twitching. Thick, purply blood oozed out from him. His life was emptying…drop by sticky drop.

Alexander flinched as she changed his bandage, but remained silent as she saw him fight the pain by biting onto his bottom lip. “Junia?”

Junia looked at him, feeling her eyes stare at him wildly. Were these his very last words on this earth? She prayed not.

“You...Demetrius'…girl.” Alexander heaved another breath of air, let out a gasp.

Junia licked her dry lips and glanced back at Andronika before turning back to Alexander. Confused, she watched Alexander try to smile. But she knew his pain reflected in his twisted expression. She saw his pain growing worse by the seconds simply by looking at him. It must hurt. He had lost so much blood already. How much more was left in him before he would slip away? Before he would fade…into the next world. A look of panic came over his face, and he struggled to sit up.

“Where is he? Where—?” Alexander choked, thickly, liquidly.

Andronika rushed to him, thrusting little Andronika into Junia’s arms. “What is it, Alexander?”

Junia hugged the baby close to her and tried to soothe her friend at the same time. “Please…don’t panic, Andronika.” Her throat tightened and she squeezed out a breath. “Give him a drink of water.”

Andronika shakily gave Alexander water from a cup. He seemed to relax, breathe better. He began with a slight groan, “It’s all my fault why I’m dying…” Another unsteady breath.

They waited.

“I talked him into his first robbery.” Alexander's face grew even paler. “That’s how it all started…”

Junia joined Andronika on the floor beside the bed with an anxious heart, swallowing dread and sadness. How would her friend react when… She could not finish.

She listened as Alexander spoke again—with regret, pain, fear, slowly, determinedly. “God…what…I done? If only…I die before. What…do I…my best friend!” He wreathed from side to side, speaking slurred, inaudibly. Sweat beaded across his entire face and arms.

Time passed.

Junia changed his rags with one hand and held the baby with her other arm. Andronika gripped onto his hand, still wearing that daze.

“Alexander, what is it…my dear?” Andronika’s words faded into a plea. “Don’t leave me. Please…don’t.”

Junia ached inside, crying in silence—listening, watching, waiting—and her mind cried out. Sin had destroyed so much of them. Would there be anything left before the next sunrise? God, help us! She silently turned her eyes to the moldy ceiling. Help us back to Your path. Your way. Your purpose. Please, God…Your plan be done. Amen. She did a deep sniff.

“I shall go, my dear.” Alexander’s words came out haltingly as he clung to Andronika’s hand. “I want you to know…I love you. And—” His body began to shake as he gasped for air, eyes lightly jerking.

Junia watched Andronika freeze and more tears pour down her face. She knew what her friend was thinking. Sin had wrecked their lives. They had caused so much grief. Now death stood so near…and yet how much longer?

“Let me confess.” Alexander choked, coughing. His voice went limp but his words gasped out yet as if needing to be spoken. “Demetrius…it’s all my fault. I talked him—into his first robbery...just for a little fun.”

~

“How good it feels to be alive again!” Demetrius was truly happy as their horses neared the city. He had left the band and had now come to return to the Savior’s fold, once for all.

“Yes.” Elder John agreed, guiding his steed ahead of him through the falling darkness. “And to stay alive is even greater.”

Demetrius nodded, thoughtful.

“You must at least dine with us for the evening, Elder John.” Junius told the man with a persuasive smile.

Demetrius looked up hopefully and Junius caught his expression.

“And you too, Demetrius.”

“Thank you!” Demetrius felt a grin plaster onto his once-hardened face.

He was silent the rest of the way, even through the city gate and along the streets. They left Elder John’s and Junius’ rented horses at the local livery and boarded his own horse for the night. The walk to the Gaius’ villa was a short and chilly one on that autumn evening as darkness began settling close to the earth. He looked up at that darkness settling close to the earth and, as if by instinct, something told him that something was wrong. But what exactly? He felt so happy. So content. What could be wrong now?

He shook the feeling off, walking behind the men into the Gaius’ garden. Eunice met them at the door, smiling through a tired-looking face, and greeted them warmly.

“It’s good to see you all,” Eunice spoke as if she had something serious on her mind. “At first I thought you were Junia coming back. She’s gone to be with Andronika—her husband was stabbed and now dying. I—”

Demetrius heard no more. He felt a wave of panic rush up at him, numb him, shock him into nothingness as he stared. Then his wits returned. There was no time to lose. He ran blindly through the gate, down the streets, up the steps. He reached Andronika’s door breathless, heart pounding and screaming inside. God, please…!

He rushed into the room. “Alexander?”

Within a few seconds, his eyes adjusted to the dimness. A familiar-looking girl held Andronika’s baby in a chair and Andronika sobbed at the bedside of Alexander. Please not dead. No. No more deaths. Please? He felt somebody grasp his sleeve. Junia.

“Demetrius.” She still had hold of his sleeve.

“Junia, where is Alexander? Is he—” he pointed to the bed.

Junia nodded, cradling little Andronika on her shoulder. “His body is over there, yes.”

Then Demetrius saw him—the closed-mouthed, silent, stilled body of his friend. Alexander looked white and stiff, already. He froze and spoke in a strangled voice. “No God, please.”

“It’s hard to lose somebody that you love, Demetrius.” Junia sniffed noisily. “Especially when they cannot come back to you. Come, I’ll show you him.”

Demetrius stared in a daze as he let Junia lead him to the still form of his friend. He forced down a swallow and covered his eyes with both hands. Pain drove him into a shocked, silent sort of moment. Images of the face of his friend scrolled through his mind, taken from the days of yesterday. Good times. Bad times. Tough times. Pleasant times. They would now all be a memory that would pass away…be remembered…and forgotten once again. His body trembled, crying out for his friend. His friend was gone. If only he had been given the chance to say goodbye…before…Alexander had breathed his final breath. Time was cruel.

The voice of Junia squeaked. “Demetrius?”

A Few Greek Words:

Fil'os: friend

Meh'tehr: mother

Pah'tehr: father

Adher'fi: sister

Adher'fos: brother