Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 50

 

Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 50

© 2021 by Amber Wright

BETRAYED!

“No, I'm not alright.” Junia forced herself to remain positively calm as she squeezed her bleeding fist closed and stumbled into a chair. “Can you please find my Meh'tehr?”

The wait of a few seconds felt like an hour, pain pounding in her hand. When her mother touched her injured palm, Junia stifled a scream.

“Does it hurt?” Worry lines showed in her mother's forehead.

Junia nodded, biting her lip to keep from crying out. The pain was wretched. Shadows emerged into her vision, dizziness ringing in her ears. She took big swallows of air. She must not faint. Not. Faint. Her head pounded and her hand hurt her even more.

Eunice lowered her hand into the bowl of cool water. Instantly, the pain lessened and the water turned a pinkish red. Junia blinked away, feeling bile rise to her tongue. I must not look... I must not faint! Dizziness sank into her. Why did she have to be so weak sometimes?

~

Tiria saw the blood circling in the wooden bowl, blending the water into a thin red liquid, and she gulped down the saliva that filled her mouth. She handed Eunice the thin hand towel. “Here,” even her voice sounded weak and shaky. Bristle up, Tiria!

Martha bustled up to the scene with a handful of weeds. Or so, they appeared to be. The middle-aged woman walked to the table and picked up a large knife.

“That is?” Tiria felt as clueless as a newborn.

“Herbs. I'm chopping them up to make an ointment. An old remedy,” Martha grunted as she briskly chopped the herbs into bits, dumping them into a pot she placed over the cook fire. “They must simmer to be fully potent.”

Tiria leaned over the woman's shoulder as she stirred, curious. What a smell for ointment! But, she sighed a little, I have a lot to learn...if I want to become a wife. At that moment Polycarp walked past. She felt a nervous tremor slide through her and her eyelashes did a frantic set of blinks. Swallowing down her tremor, she turned back to Martha's pot of herbs. The smell was awful. But so was Junia's face. She looked as ashen as the dead now. Perhaps she would be dead if they didn't hurry! Frantic thoughts raced through her as rushed to scrub Junia's face with a cold rag.

“Now, now, a few drops of blood never has hurt anyone! Don't wear that rainbow smile or,” here she bent down to hiss in her ear, “I'll think you've changed your mind about Nicolas.”

Junia popped her eyes open. “What? Never!”

Her bristly remark had served its purpose. Color was already coming back into Junia's face. Now she didn't look so dead, Tiria thought, relieved. Dead people always frightened her. They looked just so—well, dead. The thought was an unpleasant one. She heard Junia giggle and saw her crane her neck, looking for someone. Who?

“Simon?” Tiria's mouth twitched, glad her friend was gaining even more color to her face. She looked well enough to stand, but she would not dare try it now just in case Junia toppled over her feet. That in itself would create a big scene, and Tiria did not like scenes of any sort.

In reply, Junia shook her head and rolled her eyes in direction.

Tiria trailed the motion and her breath caught; then, a smile spread across her face, relieved for some reason. So it's Claudia who is the beautiful “buffalo” that handsome shepherd Simon has pierced at last. Perfect kill. Or, shall we say—catch? She frowned in thought, She is from Ephesus, a portal city. So she would be a fish, not a buffalo. A voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Jealous?” Junia's eyes were dancing. “Or shall I say—are you green with envy now?”

“Not at all,” Tiria gave her a Tiria smile. “I was just thinking what a perfect catch they are for each other, two fish with the same fins.”

“Maybe two fish from the same waterpot, yes?”

Tiria did not respond. She was busy whirling into new thoughts. Fish. Waterpot. Polycarp. Yes, I do have a knack for unexpected events. Or am I just Lady Unpredictablity? She uttered a groan and Junia's eyes questioned her. She waved a hand, “Nothing.”

Junia's hand was properly bandaged now. Now the girl wouldn't bleed to death, she was thankful. She watched Eunice help Junia towards the single girls' hut, “Have yourself a good rest.”

Tiria let her mind wander for a bit, then sharply realized what her sister had asked of her earlier. Phebe did want me to watch John and Eunice after lunch—and now is after lunch. She uttered another groan, this time silently, taking slow breaths until she felt she had loosened all her tight muscles. If one must learn to become a wife—whenever that will be, she gave the ceiling an exasperated glance and clipped her feet into motion, one must abide children. Even the noisy ones! Her spirits sagged by the mere thought. Quickly, she bristled and gave herself a mental shake, Tiria, you don't carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Smile! And John and Eunice never bite. She stifled a giggle, imagining John biting her one arm and Eunice biting the other. It gave her a horrific shudder and laugh, all-in-one.

“Aunt Tiria!” Eunice wrapped her little arms around her waist.

“Eunice.” Tiria tussled the little girl's wispy dark hair and smiled, thankful she was not biting her.

Eunice immediately began to chatter nonstop. Tiria kept nodding down at her, not hearing a mortal word that stuck into her brain. Keep this up, Eunice, and you're going to be worse than I could ever possibly be at talking too much. She smiled charitably from time to time. Out from nowhere, she heard a boy calling. Eunice was still talking so she kept “listening” intently yet not hearing a thing, her mind still lost in thoughts.

Instead of a cheerful welcome from John, Tiria found herself sailing through the air and landing on the hard rock floor with a thud. After a moment, she gathered herself to look up.

John stood over her, gaping and gulping awkwardly. “I meant to give you a hug.”

Tiria forced one more charitable smile despite the soreness that crept into her side. “One day you'll sure make your prize girl fall for you—first try.”

John slowly smiled and Eunice giggled.

Tiria pretended a frown. “Don't just stand there and stare. Help me up!”

And please, Lord, blind everyone's eyes right now if You wish. Then open them back up afterwards. She felt color creep into her cheeks; she tried to bristle herself up, but failed to. People were staring at her, she could see from her peripheral vision. There went the last shred of her pride, not that she had much to begin with.

“One, two—three!” John huffed as if he was craning a huge slab of rock.

Tiria growled inside, muttering things she had no idea she was thinking. She was minus her pride now—if that was humanly possible. This was the most embarrassing moment of her entire life! One more mutter or groan from her and she'd crack her head open on the rock floor. She bit her tongue to still the sounds coming from her.

~

Junia winced at the throbbing inside her left hand, and felt a groan slip her.

“Honey, are you alright?” Her mother massaged her scalp and the tension in her head eased.

Junia nodded, silently thanking her mother.

“I'll let you sleep now,” Eunice bent down to kiss her forehead. “Rest now, Honey.”

Junia nodded again, hearing her mother's footsteps fade. She needed to lie still, rest, and sleep the pain and nausea away. Honey? Did my mother say honey? She felt vomit rise in her throat which she hurriedly gulped down, cringing at the sour taste left in her mouth. Now was definitely not the time to think about honey—sickeningly sweet honey, dripping into the sides of her mouth. What she needed was salt, and salt she would have at supper. There would be wheat cakes, red sauce with minced sheep meat, greens, white cheese and a cup of cool mountain water to wash it all down with. Her stomach grumbled under the blanket and she willed the moments away by trying to blank out her thoughts so she could sleep until supper.

Just as her eyelids felt heavy, Demetrius' face blinked into her vision. She turned her head from side to side, trying to push the image from her mind. It was no use. She must see his face that day. Perhaps he was dead now. Or perhaps he was saying goodbye to her for good, hoping she caught his final farewell so he could move his attentions to Matthias' sister, Philadelphia. No, God, please! Not Demetrius. I know I'm full of mistakes but I've always been faithful. She felt her nostrils itch with substance, her heart racing as she pleaded in the recesses of her mind. If I'm the

fault, show me the way. She choked in a cry, burrowing her face into her blanket.

More worrisome thoughts invaded her mind.

Her breath warmed her uncomfortably under the blanket so she stuck one foot out. Please don't take away my last possession—hope! Let this darkness pass. Let Your sun shine once again. I'm waiting... She swallowed and listened to her heartbeat. It pounded desperately, unsure of itself but still beating. I'm waiting for the sun to rise. She caught the sounds of commotion and chaos coming from outside the hut's thin walls. Quickly, she brushed her tears away, peeled back the blanket from off her face and leaned up on one elbow.

The door flap opened and Chloe's face was pale even in the darkness, her voice a hollow moan. “Junia?”

~

“Of all the times!” Tiria grabbed the rolling ball and squeezed it with emphasis. “Just when we were having fun.”

The words from her sister Phebe a moment ago clapped onto her mind densely: The Romans are coming. Four simple words. How can one little sentence cause such havoc? She groaned at the unfairness life always brought them. Four words and we shake with fear, scramble for our lives, press into the depths of...

“Aunt Tiria?” Eunice tugged on her hand with fear robbing her beautiful little face.

“Yes, dear. The Romans are coming,” Tiria smiled bravely but inside she shook like an autumn leaf, unstoppable by the winds of fear.

Tiria sent a longing stare to the little crack in the cave wall where light trickled in, Lord, if You need any suggestions, I'm quite apt. An earthquake would do—to swallow them up. She sighed and looked away. But, Lord, I know You told us to bless our enemies. Please bless them with the inability to find us. She sent the crack in the wall a penitent smile as if God was standing there, forgiving her. I know You understand my imperfections. Thank You. She started rushing in the direction of their hut. Time was short.

~

Chloe's words sank into her. Junia had made no argument to her either when Chloe had sobbed out that this was all her fault. Perhaps if Chloe had not liked Jason, things would be different now. Jason would not be hurt and he would never have turned them in, as now. What was this world coming to? She picked herself out of bed and ignored the pain in her hand. There was no time to lose. She had work to do.

Tiria burst into the hut, breathless, looking like panic itself. “Fine time to fly the nest—just when I was feeling relaxed!”

Junia nodded. It would not do to unsettle Tiria any further. The girl was in hysterics.

“Lay back down,” Tiria scowled, but not unkindly. “I'm packing your things. So don't get up until we leave.”

Junia tried to protest but Tiria added bluntly, “Your face is white as limestone. Lay still!”

Junia felt her blood boil. Why did Tiria have to give her such an insult when she felt the weakest, the ugliest, the most downcast? But that was Tiria, never thinking. But, a smile shaped into her mind as her lips remained in a solid silent line, she is caring and thoughtful, nonetheless. A good friend. I should be grateful. She glared at her offending hand, I should chop you off and have done with, you little trouble-causer. A wave of nausea washed over her so she quickly sank onto her pillow and thought to add, But then I'd have a stump to worry over. Worry! Why did that word have to hang over her like a shroud? She was not dead yet.

“All done with yours,” Tiria sang out in her usual sunny self. “Now, mine to do.”

Cheerful, Junia closed her eyes and swallowed the vomit that kept rising in her throat, at such a time! That could only be...Tiria. She smiled as much as her hurting hand would allow. Breezy, blundering Tiria was as changeable as the wind. Or worse. Then their present situation hit her like a clap of thunder. She felt her mind scream with uncertainty, Everything is lost and now we're betrayed!

~

“Hurry, we have no time to lose.” James told her bluntly, frowning his white eyebrows as he gripped his staff.

“But where will you go—what about your homes? Where!” Junia felt her nose grow sticky, and she quickly swallowed. Had they been such bad luck to the shepherds?

“We will be fine,” James' eyes twinkled warmly as he patted her shoulder. “God will be with us. All of us. Now, go!”

Junia stumbled forward, once again weighted down with strapped baskets crossing each shoulder. As her feet moved forward, she bit onto her bottom lip until it tasted a little salty. Yes, she would have to ignore the pain that was shooting up her left wrist—that convenient little devil. Push her feet. Think of something else—to distract her from the pain. But why—why!—had she let that knife slip? I know exactly what a knife does. So why was I so careless? After what I witnessed it do to, she gulped, Alexander. She bristled her mind to think no more. No thinking about bloody wounds, knives, pain, nausea, vomit and the like. She had a journey to take. She would walk on her own two feet and not be packed like a child. So she must resolve to bear the pain, stay conscious and not stumble any more. Her steps grew a bit more steady as she took a decisive breath, filling her lungs with needed oxygen.

Junia met the others outside the cavern and glanced up at the sky. It was very blue with not a cloud to mar it. She could see the color of beautiful blue go on forever. And ever. A wave of dizziness sank over her and she found herself silently begging God, Please, not now. At any other time I might be willing to be carried but not right when everybody is loaded down. She thought of James' staff. Further down the trail, she would try to find one. She felt a little hand slip in hers—Paul. She smiled down at him. He was a sturdy boy although he was only four. My godsend. My invisible staff.

The dark woods looming below them probably hid a thousand Roman eyes, but she knew it was only her imagination. At least, she hoped so. She thrust her doubts aside, repeating James' words, God will be with us.

A Few Greek Words:

Fil'os: friend

Meh'tehr: mother

Pah'tehr: father

Adher'fi: sister

Adher'fos: brother