Fiction

---

(PART 1)


Lucas sat up on his sleeping pallet with hands
pressed against his head to rid the lingering phantom that
invaded a deep sleep. It was a familiar weaving of bits and
pieces of illusive reality from that horrible day. In the
blackness of the new day he saw the tiny, flickering flame
of a clay oil lamp on a wooden table across the rented
room, drawing him to the yellow light.

In the bitter cold winter of AD 62, he had stayed on
the Via Lata in Rome with his friend Paul while his legal
case languished on appeal. Civil disorder was the official
charge. But no witnesses came forward in court with any
solid evidence. A vote was taken and the case was
dismissed, and Paul was set free.

Then fire broke out in the city, raging for nine days
before coming under control. Many of those blamed for the
inferno were sewed inside skins of wild animals, fed to
stray dogs, or hanged on make-shift burning crosses. Lucas
escaped with others into a warren of underground catacombs.

Two years later Jewish anger reached a boiling point.
Revolts broke out on the coast and people divided into
factions, with radical voices carrying the day and for
years to come.

About this time Paul had been arrested as a religious
troublemaker and tossed into a holding pit of the Mamertine
prison. He was found guilty of crimes against the state and
sentenced to die by the sword in a glade of pine trees
along the Tiber River.

Unable to shake off the memory of his friend’s brutal
death, Lucas left Rome at dawn for Alexandria, the pearl of
the Mediterranean. And from there he boarded a small vessel
sailing north, stopping at Caesarea, Tyre and Sidon.

After spending a night in Seleucia Pieria, he rode a
merchant boat up the twisting, rebellious Orontes River
through deep gorges to the ancient city of Antioch in
Syria. He got off with two long scrolls tucked in his
shoulder bag, and weaved his way through avenues of old
tenements and majestic colonnades.

Lucas was home again. As the son of a former Greek
slave, he once sketched faces of friends and dreamed of
becoming a doctor and traveling to foreign lands. One
summer night a hundred camels and their drivers arrived in
Antioch. They brought rugs from Persian looms, drugs and
dates from Jericho, and jewels and linens from Damascus.
Local men traded the goods carried by the caravans and
built beautiful homes on the city’s southern hill.

He began reading papyrus scrolls brought from the city
of Alexandria about the human body and its diseases. And he
studied the healing power of herbs, balsam, oils and wine.
Later, he was accepted as an intern at one of the temple of
Asklepios, and learned to prescribe amulet and water cures,
give massages and lead exercises.

Lucas was well-suited to be a physician. He loved
people and was interested in their lives, and he faced
challenges with keen observation and innate intelligence.
He admired the beauty of nature and man, but had no
sympathy for Roman materialism or Greek idolatry.

He thought of those early days while going to see T.
Flavius Sabinus, his financial benefactor in Antioch. But
when Lucas arrived at the Roman’s palace, learned Sabinus
had traveled to a northern province by the Black Sea.
“Why did he leave?” Lucas asked a servant, holding a
silver tray of appetizers and wines.

“I was not informed, sir.” He bowed and left without
another word to attend to other matters.

Alone in his patron’s house, Lucas wandered floors of
polished marble and statues and gardens of fountains and
flowers. He recalled the day he met Sabinus, once the
second most powerful man in the Empire and the older
brother of Emperor Vespasian.

Two days went by and near twilight the tall, former
Army officer and statesman entered his palace, wearing a
toga of fine wool dyed a deep, rich purple color.
A vigorous man full of adventure, Sabinus talked of
his trip to Bithynia, and then he escorted Lucas through an
arched passageway that led to a private chamber. He
unlocked the door and his servant lit a lamp, revealing an
omnibus of scrolls and maps wrapped in cloth and stored in
large jars. A sheet of papyrus and a scribe’s ivory pen,
black ink and pumice stone lay on a high writing desk.

There was an unfinished bilos on the desk, which
Sabinus rolled up and handed to the servant.

“I’m eager to see them,” the Roman said, as Lucas
spread out the first of two scrolls to be examined. “Many
have written accounts of experiences with the Nazarene, and
I’ve read sayings by those who believe in him.”

“I rechecked what eyewitnesses said, from first to
last,” Lucas said, “and studied decrees of the Jerusalem
council. All this I put in an orderly history, based on my
own travels with Paul and other writings.”

Sabinus hunched over the first scroll telling of the
works and teachings and last days of the Christ. He read to
himself, his lips moving slightly, and then paused.

“What’s this . . . most excellent Theophilus?”
“I have dedicated my writings to you and chose a Greek
name that means lover of God,” Lucas said.

“I am grateful,” Sabinus said and went on reading,
tracing each line with his fingers. “Lucas, you are like a
painter with words,” he remarked, without looking up. “Such
vivid descriptions of people and places,” he added.

The second scroll described the beginnings of the
church and spread of the gospel by Paul, Peter and other
apostles over 30 years across lands from Jerusalem to Rome.

Neither scroll was a complete sequence of all events
as they happened –- that was impossible. But both were
filled with stories told with balance and proportion.

Well past the time for sleep, Sabinus finished and
promised to safeguard the scrolls. Lucas stayed at the
palace as the Roman’s guest while scribes produced a copy,
which turned out to be a codex of his writings displayed on
four-column pages. The rare book was comprised of four
sheets of papyrus folded to create a gathering of pages
with writing on both sides, and then collated and sewn
together. The codex contained much more material than a
scroll and was convenient to read and carry.

“I have a mission for you,” Sabinus said, placing the
completed compact book in Lucas’ hands. “I want you to take
this and share it with Christian exiles in Bithynia.”
Bithynia was a region that stretched across valleys
west of the Sea of Maramara. There, Lucas was to seek a
man in the city of Nicaea by the name of Philon, a Greek
merchant and leader of the exiles.

“How will I find him?” Lucas asked.

“Go to the marketplace and look for a
man selling ceramic pots.” Sabinus walked to a table and picked up a
map. It showed the route to Nicaea, which sat behind thick
walls in a verdant basin at the eastern end of a lake.

Lucas wanted to go but felt an obligation to stay a
while to treat people injured in the present turmoil.

“I admire your devotion, but they are other skilled
doctors in Antioch who can help.”

“Yes, of course.”

It was then Lucas noticed a young woman leaning
against the door post. Her ivory face was pure Greek, her
black hair falling over smooth shoulders in full, soft
waves. A white silk robe caressed her waist and was tied
with a gold tasseled cord.

Sabinus kissed the maiden on the forehead. “May I
introduce my daughter, Flavia . . . she has just returned
from Rome.”

Flavia smiled and walked toward Lucas, extending her
small, delicate right hand. “Welcome, sir . . . I saw you
earlier walking in the garden.”

She kissed her father’s cheek and then asked Lucas to
join them for the evening meal, which was served under a
canopy in the garden filled with a fragrance of balsam.
Lucas was captivated by Flavia and her stories. Now, more
than anything, he wanted to delay his departure for Nicaea.

He turned to Sabinus. “Is it possible to produce
another codex to take with me?”

The Roman glanced at his daughter, who pretended to
have no interest in the conversation. “Of course,” he said,
“but there’s no time for you to linger here in Antioch.”

Sabinus leaned forward. “One more thing, Lucas, you
must safeguard the codex from those who want to steal and
destroy it.”

With this warning, he was now even more reluctant to
leave Antioch. But he respected Sabinus and would agree to
leave the next day for Nicaea. He spent the rest of the
evening with Flavia.

That evening he sat with Flavia in the garden while
she played the lyre. Afterward, she took his hand. “I will
miss you, Lucas . . . when will you return to us?”

“I wish I knew.”


(TO BE CONTINUED)

Copyright 2010 Warren Lamb

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE