Timothy paused for a long moment, regarding the man-at-arms and the boy and girl to be sure he retained their full attention.
“One day, a year or longer after I had been settled in the valley, two strangers appeared at my gate. They introduced themselves as mates of Michael who had saved me. The pair begged of me a kindness. They wished, they said, to abide in the valley for a period. They could neither compensate me for their lodging nor pay even their own board. Clearly these men were on the run. I set at once my home and all I possessed at their service.
“From me these men entreated one commodity only: materials with which to write.
“I provided these. Weeks passed. I never inquired what works these two were composing, or even if that was the exercise upon which they endeavored. I never asked their names, nor did they offer them.
“The pair kept entirely to themselves, never venturing even into the gardens or the beekeeping yards.
“At this time I began experiencing alarming sensations. Visions oppressed me. I heard voices of men crying out in agony. I saw faces of those whose lives had ended upon the cross. Some of these men I knew. Most, I had never seen. Their features seared themselves into my memory. I experienced profound terror at this. What was happening to me? Was I losing my mind? I sensed that somehow these two strangers were the cause of this possession that was afflicting me.
“I determined to send them away. I rehearsed how I would put this to them. The night came upon which I had set myself to do so. I was crossing in darkness to the hut the two men shared, when I saw a third figure step forth from the gate. Clearly this was an individual unknown to me—not either of the original two.
“The man saw me and greeted me by name. This was odd, not to say uncanny, as I had never encountered the fellow before and was certain he could not possibly own acquaintance of me. The man crossed toward me. I found myself seized by terror. I knew at once that this was no man but something other.
“ ‘Who are you?” I demanded, seeking to conceal my perturbation. “How do you know my name?”
“ ‘I am a friend,’ the man said, ‘of those to whom you have tendered refuge. I wish to thank you, Timothy, on their behalf, for your courage and your kindness.’
“The man came up directly before me. His eyes were dark and filled with such compassion as I have never seen before or since. ‘Do not fear,’ the man said. I knew without speech that he, like me and those of my vision, had experienced crucifixion and had been transformed by it.
“The man did nothing but look into my eyes, yet such a force of love coursed from him to me that I staggered and could not keep my feet. I fell to my knees before the man. I perceived, again without words, that I was bound not only to him and to the others who had suffered upon the cross, but to all mankind, and that the remainder of my days must be spent in service to them all.
“At that moment, my two lodgers emerged from their shelter. When they saw me with the man, they dashed forward in consternation. They helped me to my feet. ‘Are you all right? Timothy, can you speak?’
“I peered in all directions. The third man had vanished. I inquired in agitation of the other two, ‘Where has the man gone? Who was he? What just happened to me?’
“My lodgers said only, ‘Now you too have beheld him.’
“The next morning the strangers departed. I never saw them again, or their companion. Nor have I in the intervening years heard from them or of them. Yet that encounter remains the consummate and defining hour of my life.”
Telamon absorbed this tale with sober abstraction. His expression showed that he knew neither what to make of it nor what message the man Timothy intended to impart.
Timothy saw this.
He smiled.
He addressed Telamon directly.
“The man who rescued me from the cross was Michael, as I said, whom the Romans under Severus slew, as you witnessed at the aqueduct, and whose remains these children interred and which I and my comrades came upon in our search for you. This man Michael was nephew to Stephen, a follower of Jesus, who himself met his end by a sentence of stoning pronounced upon him by a Roman magistrate, a Jew and great persecutor of Christians, who called himself Saul of Tarsus.
“This Saul, as all men now know, experienced upon the road to Damascus a miraculous visitation of divine origin. He turned apart from the service of Rome, reconstituting himself not as a persecutor of those who followed this new faith, but as its most canny and passionate champion. He took the name ‘Paul the Apostle.’ Yes, that Paul—the very man who composed the letter which this girl-child, Ruth, and the Nazarene Michael were carrying and which you, Telamon, were charged by Severus, the garrison commander of Jerusalem, to retrieve and deliver back to him.”
The man Timothy sought Telamon’s eyes.
“The visions I experienced in my terror . . . the faces of men I beheld? One of them was yours.”
Telamon’s glance remained hooded.
“I recognized you the moment you entered the Lavender Valley. Do you remember when the bees swarmed about you without alighting upon your flesh? They had never done that with anyone other than me, ever.
“Yet your apparition in such a manner cast me into confusion. Those who have ridden the cross and survived possess a certain ‘look.’ This is unmistakable. You,” said Timothy, “did not have this look.”
David’s glance swung from the man made of bees to the mercenary. In the eyes of both resided a sorrow, and a compassion, that he, the youth, had neither apprehended nor appreciated before.
“You have it now,” said Timothy to Telamon.
To David’s astonishment, the man-at-arms did not deflect or dispute this.
Ruth perceived this as well. She glanced to David. Both their expressions confirmed this understanding.
“You cannot stay here, Telamon. The Romans or the Arabs will find us soon. It is a miracle we have not been discovered already. You must be conducted to safety. You must rest, you must heal. Come back with us! We can protect you. Our guides will see you past any parties sent to pursue or intercept you.
“It would be madness,” Timothy said, “to attempt to cross to Corinth. The Romans have probably wiped out the hidden community already. How will you get through the cordon of legions that has no doubt been thrown up about the city? With what forces? These children? Even if you did get through, what can you hope to accomplish? Reports have been abroad for months that the Christian communes are breaking apart beneath Rome’s campaign of terror. A man betrays his own brother; another is taken and informs upon his mates to save his own neck. How will such affrighted souls react to you, about whom the Romans have spared no measure to sow suspicion? Come back with us! You have done all a man must and endured everything a man can. My comrades and I have come to save you! This is the meaning of my vision! This is why I am here!”
Telamon considered this gravely.
“With respect, Timothy, I must take issue with your interpretation. Your vision, if one were to believe in such things, may mean the exact opposite—not that you were called to bring me back to safety, but that you were sent to succor me so that I might go forward.
“I have survived the cross,” the man-at-arms said, “not to abandon my mission but to see it through.”
For long moments Timothy offered no answer.