Before Winter (11)

Eight: Paphos

The harbor was loud and busy, permeated with the smell of fish and drunk sailors. It was good to be standing on solid ground again, Timothy noted. His legs were beginning to resume their accustomed sureness. 

“Where can I find John Mark?” He had asked each passing sailor in the harbor, but most reeled right past without even responding. Those who did notice him only grunted and shook their heads. Whether they could not understand him, or did not know the answer to his question, Timothy was unsure, but he continued on toward the marketplace, dodging baskets of fish, grain, cloth, and other goods which seemed constantly in his path. 

“John Mark—does he still live here?” The sheep merchant looked up briefly from his wooly, baaing stock, to consider Timothy. He held out his hand, palm up. With a sigh, Timothy pulled his pack over his shoulder, and dug through his purse, looking for a suitable small coin. The copper glinted in the sunlight as he held it up to the merchant. 

“He was here at the market a week ago.” The man’s teeth flashed into a grin as Timothy handed over the money.

“Where can I find him now?” 

Shrugging, the trader spread his hands. “How can I tell? Now and then he comes, and talks so much nonsense, but I have not seen him for a week.” He turned away, clearly indicating that he had no further business with this strange Jew. 

“Where can I find John Mark?” Timothy resumed his inquiries, stopping at each stall until at last an old bread seller answered.

“Ask at the house of Cadmus. He was staying there until about a week ago.”

“And where does this Cadmus live?” Timothy parted with another copper coin to obtain the desired information, and set out to follow the merchant’s directions. 

By dint of asking several other people along the way, he did find the house at last, and knocked on the door. 

“Is this the house of Cadmus?” Timothy asked, when the door was cracked open by a young servant boy. 

He nodded slightly.

“I need to talk to him. I’m looking for a man named John Mark. They told me in the market that I could get news of him here.” 

The boy scurried away, still without a word, and Timothy was left standing on the doorstep, wondering if he would ever be let in. Just when he was about to knock again, the lad came back. This time he opened the door wide, and motioned for Timothy to step inside. When he came in, the boy started toward the back of the house, looking over his shoulder to see if Timothy was following him. 

They passed through the long atrium and came to another set of wooden doors, which the servant boy pushed open. This time he remained on the outside, but made signs for Timothy to go through. 

When he stepped into the room, he saw a small table on the opposite side, underneath a high arched window. A man was standing at the table, bent over, looking at a parchment that lay on it. Hearing Timothy’s steps on the flagstone floor, he straightened and came towards him, both hands outstretched. 

“Welcome, brother!” he enveloped Timothy in a hearty bear hug.

“I’m looking for John Mark.” Timothy managed to gasp out, in the midst of the unexpected embrace.

“Of course you are, of course.” Cadmus released him, grinning broadly, and pulled him over to the window, where there was better light. “But he left to evangelize the eastern side of the island yesterday, and will be gone for some time. In the mean time, you shall stay with us.”

“What?” Timothy frowned. “No, I have to get him as soon as possible. Tell me, what cities will he visit?”

“Well,” Cadmus stroked his beard thoughtfully, “I will mark them on a map, but it may take a while to locate him.”

“So I am finding out.”