Risky Trade | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: Risky Trade | Previous Challenge Entry
By Holly Westefeld
02/24/22
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Once my pottery and my wife's woolen cloth were inspected by the respective guild masters, I packed them carefully into the oxcart, using the fabric to protect the jugs, pots, and vases. The emperor may have improved on the roads, but the wares would still undergo much jostling. The caravan would be departing at dawn the next day, and would not wait for stragglers. There would not be another guarded caravan before winter, so it was the last opportunity to market our goods at the port, and procure provisions for the next several months. The risk of bandits, not to mention sudden storms precludes solo journeys.

We arose early, my wife preparing a simple breakfast, while I stowed the rest of the supplies needed for me and the oxen. Lastly, I removed the lid from a jar in the corner, removed a cylindrical parcel from it, and slid it into the lining of my cloak.

The day was crisp but fair. We made good time, arriving at the ruins by the crossroads where we would camp well before sunset. The roofs had long since decayed, but some sturdy walls still stood, providing some protection from the wind, and making it easier for the guards to keep watch.

There were no other travelers present, but there were signs that some had been there recently. That meant that I was able to position myself near the end of one particular wall. I hoped it portended that my contact had already been there.

I went through the same routines as the other travelers, eating my dinner, feeding the oxen, and laying out my sleeping mat. I could not allow myself to fall asleep, however, until I checked the hidden alcove in the wall.

The moon was full, but providentially, clouds wafted in, leaving only scant firelight for the guards to keep watch by. Even so, I waited until snores resounded off the walls to slip around the end of the wall. I counted carefully, seven stones from the end, and three from the ground. The oil I had used on the rock was still working beautifully. It slid out without a sound.

I reached my hand inside the wall. Indeed, there was a parcel similar to my own. I exchanged them, then carefully replaced the stone and returned to my sleeping mat.

I was nearly as sluggish in the morning as those who had over indulged in their wine the night before, but I pressed on, knowing that sleeping at the inn that night would be deep and sweet. We arrived at the bazaar by mid morning. Sales were brisk, as both my artisanship and my wife's were well known in the city. The balance of the goods sold before we departed the following afternoon. This time when we arrived at the ruins, I worked my way back toward the corner of the walls, a safer spot with a full purse. Especially since the night sky was cloudless, I resisted the urge to check and see if my parcel had been retrieved. The risk was great enough as was, and my family would be devastated if I were caught and sent off to be tortured and executed by the emperor.

It started to drizzle the next afternoon, which made the warmth of hearth and home all the sweeter. Embracing my wife, she ran her hand over my cloak, smiling when she felt the parcel tucked in the lining. We stowed the winter's provisions and returned the oxen to the stable, where they munched contentedly.

Word spread quietly that the trade had gone smoothly. Family by family our home filled on the first day of the following week. Their excitement was palpable as I unrolled the scroll and began to read: "Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, to the saints in Ephesus, the faithful in Christ Jesus: Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ."

Even the little ones seemed to grasp how special the day was, for hardly a sound was heard, though the letter was lengthy. The passage about Jesus being the cornerstone of the invisible church was especially meaningful to me, since we could build no visible one. I would not trade the hours I had spent meticulously copying our scroll of Paul's letter to the Philippians, or the risk exchanging it in the wall for this scroll.

*****

Eph. 1:1-2, 2:19-22.

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