The Stranger of Galilee

Chapter 9 - The House of Affliction

***

'The soldiers have left.' Lucius said, his face far more chipper now than it had been when he had left Claudia at the edge of the garden. It had taken the very last dregs of his strength to tiptoe out of the cover of the trees to check the land for any sign of his 'brothers', all the while tense in anticipation of a fight. But, it had been worth it to be able to return to Claudia, alive, and with good news. They were safe for now.
               However, when he approached the tree behind which he had left his friend, and saw the ashy pallor in her face, his merry heart sank into his stomach like a rock.
'Claudia! Claudia!' he cried, lifting her chin and glancing between her slowly blinking eyes. 'Oh, woman! I must get you to safety, immediately. Do you know of a place - an ally? I cannot trust even Marcus to aid us now - Claudia, do not close your eyes. Claudia! Cl-'
'Mary.' the ghostly face wheezed, almost unintelligibly. Lucius considered the name.
'Who is Mary? I do not know her - I shall have to take you to the palace -'
'No!' the woman suddenly shrieked, a quick rush of colour returning to her face. 'Mary. Jesus' mother - she, she can help us.'
'But I do not know where to find her!' Lucius panicked. 'There is no time to search -'
'I am weak, not dying, soldier.' Claudia said, squeezing his shoulder weakly. 'There is always time to search for a likeminded person - it is what we ought to do, in perilous times.'
               Claudia's head lolled after that and Lucius, functioning solely on adrenaline and concern, picked her up over his shoulder and ran as fast as he could. If only he had eaten something in the town that afternoon, when he had left Marcus alone at the tomb for exactly that purpose!

***

Claudia awoke to a stab of pain shooting through her right foot, which, by the time she had sat up and gasped, had eased to a dull ache. She lay back down.
               The next thing she sensed was warmth. Had the Garden of Gethsemane been cold? She could not recall a breeze, though her body ached from shivering now. It was soothed by the delightful warmth around her, every pore on her skin relaxing into the comfort. Had Lucius built a fire? Was he nearby? Claudia felt too weak to open her eyes and find out.
               But when she felt another sharp pain in her foot, she sat up once more, her eyes wide open.

She was in a house.

Amazed, Claudia looked around her at the short, stone walls, plain and practical, their only beauty the reflection of flames which lit them a glowing blood orange. There was a fireplace, a rocking chair, and - oh! Claudia was lying on a bed! A springy and scratchy bed, but still far softer than the ground. She smiled. So Lucius had found them a safe place after all.
               When Claudia's foot stung a third time, it twitched and she reached down to soothe it...but her hand landed on skin that was not her own.
'Lucius!' she gasped so quickly that she choked on her own breath. Her hand withdrew to cover her coughing mouth. 'Oh, Lucius, you dear... - What are you doing?' She slowly looked down at her foot, and the threaded needle in his hand, and froze. Lucius sighed.
'I was trying to close your wound before you awoke and protested it.'
'Of course I protest it, Lucius! I do not desire - ow!' In pulling her foot away from Lucius, who was sitting on a bench at the end of the bed, she pulled the conjoined needle right out of his hand.
'Claudia.' he said tiredly, picking it back up. 'I cannot help you if you insist on moving.'
'That is fine with me! I do not need your help.' she replied, more stubbornly. Lucius sighed again.
'The stitches are almost finished. See for yourself! Five more and you shall not need to worry about bleeding to death any longer.'
               Claudia quickly picked up her foot and looked closely at the cut side of it. Sure enough, the sutures were over half way done. She had been fortunate enough to sleep through the worst of the pain, and now only an inch of the weepy slit remained open. Could she really waste Lucius' efforts, and stop herself from healing, for the sake of a silly fear? Besides, she had watched a man bleed to death two days ago, and she certainly did not desire the same fate.
               Trembling, Claudia swallowed and extended her leg back out. Lucius sent her a reassuring nod, held his needle over the candle beside him a moment, then brought it back to her skin. His face creased in concentration but his hands shook, one sewing, the other holding Claudia's flinching foot still. Every few seconds he would stop, wash his fingers in a bowl of crimson water on the bench beside him, and carry on.
               Studying Lucius' face to keep from panicking, Claudia found that was not wearing his helmet. She had seen him take it off once before, but he had tried hard to keep his face angled away from her until he had put it back on again. However, just then he was so focused that he let her see him clearly.
               Claudia looked over his dark, ruffled hair, his pointed nose, his round, dark eyes and wide lips. Then his head tilted a little and she had to stop herself from gasping. There was a long scar on the left side of his face. How perfectly his helmet must have concealed it, for her to have never noticed it before! The single, deep line ran from his left ear all the way down to his top lip, so startling in its size that Claudia couldn't look away. How many stitches must that have taken to heal? Had it hurt much more than her foot did? Why did Lucius hide it so? Was it a scar from war, or some similarly terrible assault, or had it happened accidentally?
               'I will not tell you how it happened.' Lucius answered her thoughts quietly, keeping his eyes on his work. Claudia blinked and looked away.
'Forgive me.'
'It is not necessary.'
               Claudia looked back at Lucius, and smiled. He tried to.
'Where are we?' she asked him.
'Bethany.'
'Bethany? Is Mary here? Oh, I so desire to speak with her! The things she must know -'
'No.' Lucius said flatly. 'I could not find her, nor a disciple of Jesus, and I dared not linger in Jerusalem.'
'Oh.'
               Claudia looked around the room again, as if there would be a sign hanging on one of the walls with the names of the people who lived here. Her eyes paused on Lucius again. He was still wearing his red tunic, though the breastplate, arm bands, helmet and sword were now cast in a pile on the floor. He looked gentler without them: more amiable. More human.
               Lucius caught Claudia staring again, so she glanced away and quickly asked why he had chosen Bethany. Just as she did, a loud noise erupted from outside the doorway like the commencement of a family meal. Cutlery clanged, voices conversed, and Lucius smiled.
'We have allies here.' he said, a twinkle in his eye. 'We are outside the city, and there are lepers nearby, so few Roman soldiers shall venture this way. And, these people will aid us in any way we ask them to.'
'Truly? Why would they be so gracious?'
'Because Jesus commanded them to be.'
               Lucius looked up at Claudia, grinning wider when she excitedly clapped her hands.
'Oh, Lucius! They are followers of Jesus!?'
'Indeed they are.'
               But her friend's pride instantly vanished when Claudia leaned forwards and threw her arms around his neck, overwhelmed with gratitude. She felt him tense, but could not care. He had not only hidden her from her husband's army, but also carried her two miles to Bethany where he found refuge and fellowship! How could she ever repay him?
'Oh Lucius, I am -'
               He interrupted her by clearing his throat, and gently guiding her to sit back, away from him.
'I must finish the stitches, Claudia.' he said. Claudia's cheeks blazed but her joy could not be lost, so she nodded and let him continue. The pain was not so prominent now; neither did Lucius' tired hands shake anymore.