An Interesting Development

Possibly I ought to have mentioned this sooner, but I'm getting married in a few months. Now you know. For details, pictures and/or squealing, try my sister's blog: Rebekah's Remarks

Actually, *cough* I'm quite excited to be transitioning from preparing for the ultimate career to practicing the ultimate career. I'll be busy for the next few months, but I do have a few blog post ideas up my sleeve, to be drawn out with a flourish every so often. ttfn!

Before Winter: Chapter 32

Thirty-Two: Conclusion

“Ker-choo.” Timothy sniffed. “Excuse me. I caught a bad cold on the ship.” He sneezed again.

Luke smiled. “Paul is anxious to see you. He had almost given up hope, thinking you had been delayed on the road until it was too late.”

“What could keep me from coming, when he asked me? I only wish I could have brought Mark with me all the way.”

“Where is Mark?” Luke asked, as they turned into the courtyard of the house where Paul was kept under arrest.

Timothy began to reply, but he was cut short by a crisp command.

“Halt!” The guard at the front of the house stepped in front of them, extending his hand. “Sir, I must examine that package before you take it inside.”

Timothy held it out.

The guard shuffled the papers, glancing over each page, and handed it back to him. “Here you are.” He waved Luke through without searching him, nodding in silent greeting.

“The guards fall under Paul’s spell here, as they do everywhere, I see.” Timothy chuckled, and Luke smiled in response.

“Not all of them. He has such a way with people. They either detest him, or they would go through fire and water for him. No middle ground!”

Timothy laughed in agreement. Together, they passed through the doorway, and down a passage. Luke lead the way, taking the turns in the manner of a man who has made them many times, until they reached Paul’s room.

A crackling fire burned in the hearth, and Paul was sitting by it, writing, when they came in. He rose to meet them, coming forward and embracing Timothy warmly.

“My friend, I knew you would come.” Stepping back, he looked at Timothy critically. “You are older.”

“So are you.” Timothy smiled crookedly. It was good to see his friend, after such a long time, but he could not trust himself to say anything else. Luke had told him that the order for his execution had actually passed already, and was only waiting on the Emperor’s word to be carried out. He had almost been too late after all.

Swallowing hard, Timothy composed himself. “Here,” he took the package from underneath his arm and held it out. “From Carpas. The books and parchments. Your cloak I am afraid I had to leave at Philippi, in rather bad shape.”

Paul took the bundle from him absently, looking behind him to the door. “But where is Mark? You brought him, of course? I have much for him to do.”

“He started out with me, and greatly wished to see you, but like the cloak, I was forced to leave him in Philippi, also in bad shape.”

“What is all this about Philippi?” Paul asked. “What were you doing there? And what did you do to Mark, and my cloak?”

“Well,” Timothy glanced at Luke, whose face reflected the same question, “it is a long story.”

“Sit, then.” Paul motioned to a chair by the fire. He sat back down behind his desk, resting his elbows on its surface, and gazing at Timothy intently as he sank down into a chair. “Now. Tell me all about it.”

THE END

Postscript.

In every book of historical fiction, the author must decide what to include and what to leave out. What is fact, and what is fiction? What about the material that is somewhere in-between—the things that could be true, but we have no way of being sure? Here is the explanation of a few major aspects of the story, for those who are interested.

The characters:

There is very little information about John Mark and Alexander the Coppersmith in the Biblical text, so I have made up most of their personalities to fit the story I am telling. About Timothy we know a little more, and I tried to keep his character consistent with what we know from his travels with Paul. Most of the minor characters are entirely fictional, though a few names are drawn from those mentioned in the Bible.

The plot:

We know from 2 Timothy that Paul did ask Timothy to come to Rome, and to bring Mark. The Bible never tells us whether or not Timothy made it in time to meet Paul before his execution, though we know from what Acts relates of Paul’s travels that such a journey would be fraught with difficulty and danger. This book is one possible way to end Paul and Timothy’s story. The New Testament and Old Testament are full of examples of forgiveness and redemption, and it seemed to be an appropriate theme for Timothy and John Mark to explore, from their different points of view.

The setting:

The first century is far removed from our own daily experience. Until I started writing, I had no idea how little I knew about the Hellenistic culture surrounding the spread of Christianity. I have done my best to be accurate to the period, researching what life was like, what they wore, how they would have traveled and acted.

Dates: It is hard to know exactly when Paul wrote 2nd Timothy, and when he was executed. I have gone with one tradition, and set the action in 66-67 AD, but other options may be equally valid. However, since at this period of history the characters were not using the BC/AD system, I chose to have them count from Jesus’ resurrection in 33 AD. Thus, Mark records 66 AD as “the thirty-third year since the resurrection of our Lord”. References to past events I have tried to keep within the frame of possible dates, picking specific time-frames (such as the length of time Timothy spent in Ephesus) for the purposes of continuity in the story, feeling that if I left everything vague it would be too confusing for the reader.

Before Winter: Chapter 31

Thirty-One: Aftermath

“Ker-choo.”

Timothy’s eyes opened, and he sat up, sneezing again. He felt terrible. His eyes itched, his muscles ached, and his head felt like it was swollen to double its usual size. Blinking, he looked around, though the motion made his head throb.

He was back in his own cabin. Someone had brought in a lantern and hung it from the ceiling, from which position it shed light around the room. The first thing he noticed was his tunic, draped over the back of a chair. Then his eyes were caught by a square package, sitting on the little table where he was used to sit and write.

Wondering, he rose stiffly to his feet and bent over it. He folded back the linen wrappings, and found himself staring at the books and parchments he had lost weeks ago, in Troas. Paul’s familiar handwriting, the scrolls, it was all there. Puzzled, his eyes roved around the tiny space of the cabin, as if seeking an answer to the mystery somewhere in the room.

He was still standing there, with the parchments in front of him, when a knock sounded on the door.

“Come in.”

In response to his call, the ship’s mate stepped into the room.

“Is the storm over?” As he asked, he realized that it must be. Their motion was no longer that of a ship riding at anchor, whipped in every direction by a gale, but the steady, purposeful movement that meant they were running before a fair, brisk wind.

“Yes, sir. It blew itself out early this morning. A good thing for us, too. Much more strain on our anchor-cable and we would have been on the rocks.”

“How is…” Timothy hesitated, “how is the sailor who fell into the sea?”

The mate frowned. “Don’t know. He’s gone.”

“Gone?” Timothy was startled. “What do you mean?”

“Looks like he stole one of our boats, while the storm was still raging, and tried to row to shore.” The mate shrugged. “Out of his head, probably. It was a crazy thing to do. Captain sent me to make sure you were still here, at least.”

“Well, I’m here.” Timothy hardly knew what he was saying, as he thought over this new intelligence. Why would Alexander flee the ship? Had he been the one to bring the parchments back? Then that was what he had seen under Alexander’s arm, back in Troas. Did this mean he had repented?

The mate was speaking again, hoping he would feel better soon, taking leave of him. Timothy heard him in a daze, watched the door shut behind him, and sat down heavily on his chair, leaning back against his tunic. It was still damp from the soaking it had received just a few hours ago.

For the first time, he prayed for Alexander in earnest, with no anger or reservation in his heart. In that moment before he decided to attempt to rescue the coppersmith, he had seen his own inner sin, just as terrible as Alexander’s outward sin, and had truly repented of it. Lord, let him be alive. Take away his anger, as you have taken away mine. Show him Your truth, and give him Your peace. Let him too see that You can always forgive.

He prayed for several minutes, feeling an incredible closeness of fellowship with the Lord. At last he rose, tears still wet on his cheeks, and pulled on his tunic. Folding the linen back over the parchment, he tucked the package into a safe corner. Turning to go on deck, his hand was on the door when he remembered one last thing.

Dropping to his knees, he groped under the bed with one hand until his fingers closed on his pen. He pulled it out, and set it on the table, ready for his return. Then he walked out the room.