Stories from Heaven's Library - Vol. 31

For Young & Old

Jerome -- PART 2

         A year had now gone by since the time Elmo and Lydia had left the city. Adrian, along with many other Christians, had been sent to the lions--to meet their fate, as some put it, or their glory, as others said. As time went on, more Christians continued to be found and condemned, the persecution perpetuated more by the bloodlust of the Roman nobility than by their crazed and self-absorbed emperor. People from all over Rome, and other cities as well, would flock to the grandstands to see these gruesome events take place.
         Elmo and Lydia stayed in the country. They were soon joined by other Christians seeking refuge. They would gather once a week for prayer and fellowship. Many of these persecuted Christians would stay within their homes for days, and sometimes weeks at a time, trying to hide from the emperor's rampage against them. Elmo kept a very low profile, and very rarely ventured out of their town, in order to keep his whereabouts unknown to Marcellus' spies.
         The persecution in Rome soon became too much for Jerome. He wished to leave the city and travel around, seeking adventure. He was still interested in learning to fight. Since their house had lost their title of Roman nobility, he had missed out on the military training that he otherwise would have received. He traveled south to Naples, where he enrolled in a school for gladiators. Here he was taught to fight; and as he had no money, he worked for the school to cover his lessons. He never received the letter from his father, as by the time Lydia came back to Rome, Jerome had already left, and Claudia did not know where he had gone. She did not want to ask Chloe, or go anywhere near Marcellus' household, for that matter.
         As time went by, a change began to come over Chloe. Seeing the way Christians cheerfully accepted their cruel fate, singing in the face of death, and smiling through the flames of agony, her heart was filled with awe and wonder at the courage and spirit of the Christians. Eventually she left her old friends, and desperately sought out, and then joined the Christians. She did her best to stay undercover, but she knew that sooner or later, her father, who most zealously despised Christians, would find out, and that day would not be a pleasant one.
         She often thought of Jerome, who hadn't communicated with her since leaving Rome. She missed him and wished to see him again, wanting him to know of her newfound faith.
         But Jerome wasn't eager to return. He enjoyed his life. He loved learning to fight, and to let all his emotions out in the clashing of his sword. Then one day, Jerome bumped into some merchants from Rome who were passing through the city he was in. Interested, he joined them in conversation, eager to hear whatever news he could. "So, what is happening back home?" Jerome inquired.
         "Still the same--Christians, Christians, Christians. They cause all the trouble. And if you're not a Christian, or following one around as an informer for that Marcellus guy, you live in fear, hoping that no one would be stupid enough to think that you're a Christian. Rome is a dreadful place to be right now, I tell you."
         "And what of Marcellus' family?" Jerome was curious about what had become of Chloe.
         "Busy as ever, hunting down the Christians, paying good money to those who betray them, and getting extra commissions from the emperor for the task. He's in a lucrative business, and he spares no one. In fact, I heard a rumor that he has even imprisoned his own daughter. People were saying that she converted to the Christian faith."
         Jerome didn't hear anything else the man said after that. He became lost in his own thoughts, which seemed to be racing faster than they ever had, as he once again faced a past he had been trying to forget. Chloe, a Christian? Can it be true? I mean, she did seem somewhat interested, but to actually defy her father, I don't think so. But what if she did? Would Marcellus condemn his own daughter?
         As for himself, he never spoke of his Christian heritage, and he gave no reason for anyone to believe that he was one himself. Jerome felt as if he'd turned his back on God. He wondered what his father would think of him now, although he was pretty sure that he would be disappointed.
         His heart was filled with longing. He had to return to Rome. He had to find his father--and Lydia. Surely they would be able to tell him what he could do--and this time, he would listen. Jerome was beginning to understand what Lydia had meant when she had spoken of her life, and how she had wished for something more.
         Learning to fight had been fun at first, and Jerome proved to be an apt student who learned quickly, and earned the respect of the teachers as well as the attention of many young ladies. He had also earned a good bit of money by betting with his friends at the gladiator fights they would often go to watch. But he soon began to see the futility of it all. He had seen more than one of his friends seriously maimed in training sessions that were only meant to be for sport. With time, he became disgusted at this form of "entertainment" that served only to satisfy the crowd's seemingly endless lust for blood and gore.
         He thought back over the past year. He had enjoyed himself somewhat, but he also knew that something had been missing, although he couldn't quite grasp what it was. He had many so-called friends, he was popular among the girls, he was smart and had everything he needed, but still he wasn't happy. Even his comparative riches meant nothing to him now. All he wanted was to be truly happy. Jerome wanted to love, and wished for someone to love him regardless of whether he was rich or popular or not.
* * *
         Finally deciding that his life was in need of a change of some kind, Jerome returned to Rome. The first place he went to was the house of Claudia, who lived there alone since Adrian's death. Marcellus seemed content to leave her alone with the memories of her dead husband. The shock that showed on Claudia's face when she saw Jerome was so great that Jerome wondered if he had done something wrong.
         "I'm sorry," Jerome said, advancing towards her, "was it wrong of me to come?"
         "Oh no, Jerome, it it's just been so long. I didn't expect to see you again. Oh yes, there is a letter here for you, from your father. It has been here nearly a year now, but we could never find you."
         They both walked into the dining room, and Jerome sat down while Claudia went to get the letter. When she returned Jerome asked, "What news is there of my father?"
         "He has not been back here since you left, but I hear from Lydia that he is well and prospering."
         "Lydia? Is she here?" Jerome asked, immediately interested.
         "No. She's with your father. But she sometimes comes to see me, although I never know when, or for how long. If you are planning to stay for awhile, perhaps you will meet her."
         Jerome broke the seal off the letter and began to read. His eyes soon widened in horror. "Marcellus!" he whispered, "So it is you who ruined my life. Why why do you have to be involved in everyone's life?"
         Claudia knew what the letter said, and could see the anger rising in Jerome's face. She prayed he would not take it upon himself to do anything. "What will you do?" she asked.
         "I must see my father--before I do something wrong," Jerome said. He was in shock, and his first impulse was to kill Marcellus, although common sense--rather than Christian values--told him that this would be futile. Besides, Marcellus was too well guarded, and not one to be caught unawares.
         Claudia tried to change the subject, "So Jerome, tell me, what has become of you? You seem to have changed a lot. What of your Christian life?"
         "I am a Christian, Claudia, but I'm afraid I may not be such a good one."
         "Don't say that, Jerome. What do you mean?"
         "Well, I don't think God would approve of my way of life. I know I've displeased my father by what I've done, and I fear that I have displeased God as well."
         "Don't worry Jerome," she tried to comfort him. It was easy to see that a lot was on his mind. "Nothing is too bad to be forgiven, if you are willing to accept Jesus' forgiveness."
         Jerome fell silent for a moment, thinking about what Claudia had just said. Suddenly he remembered Chloe. "What about Chloe? What has become of her?"
         "Oh yes, Chloe!" Claudia repeated. "I think you should go see her, Jerome."
         "What has happened? Is she in trouble?" he asked, noting the quiver in her voice.
         "She has become a Christian."
         "So ?"
         "She is in prison, Jerome. She has been sentenced to death."
         Jerome's mouth dropped open at this news, and for a moment he could not think. "But Marcellus would do something like that?" he asked.
         "Obviously! He refuses to talk to her, and has now become even more enraged and ruthless in his attempts to find and kill any Christian that he can!"
         "But Chloe how did Chloe. I have to see her. I need to find out what happened."
         "Go to her, Jerome. But be careful. If Marcellus sees you or discovers you are here, he will certainly not spare you."
* * *
         Jerome made it into the prison without much difficulty. The guard agreed to let him say his last good-byes, as the Christians were to be thrown to the lions that night. It was not difficult to find Chloe. She had been placed in a cell on her own, and she sat slouched on the floor. "Chloe! Is it really you? What happened?"
         Chloe jumped up, startled by his familiar voice. No one else had come to visit her, and in an instant she was on her feet. "Jerome, oh Jerome, God has answered my prayers and allowed me to see you before I die."
         Jerome put his hands through the bars to take hold of Chloe's. "Oh Chloe, tell me what happened."
         "I have become a Christian, Jerome, like you. After you left, and I saw your friends--your Christian friends--so boldly accepting their fate, choosing to suffer affliction rather than to turn their back on the Savior, I started thinking about my life, too. I wanted to know more about you Christians. I wanted to see what it was that made you like Lydia more than me. I saw that she had an inner beauty which far outweighed what I merely had on the surface. I wanted that same beauty, not only because I wanted you to like me, but because I saw it was worth more than all the riches in the world. So I looked for the Christians, although they were difficult to find. Those I tried to talk to feared I was an informer, and never told me anything.
         "One day I saw Lydia at the marketplace, where I first met you, and I went over to her. I told her how I felt, and she believed me. Soon after, she led me to the catacombs, where the Christians have been hiding out. I began meeting with them regularly and my heart began to change.
         "Then, not too long ago, my father asked me to help him in his hunt for Christians. He said that, with my beauty, I could attract the young men and lure them into telling me things. I refused. I could not betray those I loved, and those who had given me something to live for. This infuriated my father, and he accused me of being a Christian. I did not deny the allegations, and that made my father even more upset. I have been here nearly a week now. You are the first person that has come to see me--and you will probably be the last, for tonight I will meet my Savior."
         Jerome was disgusted by Marcellus, and this made him hate him all the more. He had abandoned his own daughter and condemned her to death. After a long moment of silence, and with tears in his eyes, Jerome said, "Chloe, I must find my father. It is important that I see him."
         "I don't know where he is, but I do know someone that might be able to help you." Chloe gave him some instructions. He was to sit at a certain street corner, and whenever someone passed by, he was to draw the symbol of a fish in the sand. "If someone stops and draws a fish in front of you, too," she said, "follow them. They will stop when it is safe, and ask you in whose name you come. Say then that I have sent you, and ask for a man named Simon. He knows where your father lives, and they can take you there."
         "Thank you, Chloe. You don't know how much this means to me." Jerome paused for a moment and then added, "Chloe, I must confess, I never expected that the Christian life would appeal to you, much less that you would choose to die for it. I cannot deny that it has changed you for the better. I I will miss you."
         "Thank you, Jerome, and goodbye. Please give my love to Simon and all my friends there. Tell them that I am well, and that they should not fear for me. Tell them to keep the faith." A few tears rolled down Chloe's white cheeks, but her smile and peaceful expression reflected her undying faith in her newfound God.
         Jerome nodded, and walked away, awed at the change that had come over Chloe. He was encouraged that, if she could change, then surely he could too, and now, he finally wanted to.
* * *
         The torches marking the perimeter of the arena were ablaze, and the grandstands were packed. The crowd had already begun heartlessly chanting, "Christians! Bring out the Christians!"
         Marcellus stood behind a curtain with Clyde, now his right-hand assistant.
         "They are a bloody crowd tonight, Clyde, and we have plenty to satisfy them," Marcellus remarked.
         Clyde nodded in agreement.
         Octavia, his wife, came running in. "Marcellus, oh Marcellus! Please change your mind. Don't let our only daughter die!"
         "Justice must be served," came his lone and cold reply. I must harden myself, he thought, If the emperor sees that I can kill anybody, even my own daughter, without flinching, he will surely be pleased with me, and my loyalty to his empire.
         Octavia stood by and wept, but nothing she could do would change Marcellus' mind.
         The trumpets sounded, and Nero arrived. In a moment Nero's order echoed across the field. "Bring out the Christians--that they may die."
         A large gate opened, revealing a band of Christians standing upright.
         Nero had heard that Marcellus' daughter was among the Christians who were to be killed that day, and he intently eyed both Marcellus and Octavia, to see if either of them would show any emotion at the fact that their daughter was about to die. Octavia looked greatly distressed, but the unfeeling stare on Marcellus' face frightened even Nero.
         "Such a man could be dangerous," Nero whispered to the Praetorian prefect* standing next to him. "If he is willing to renounce his own flesh and blood, what regard could he hold for me?"
         "I shall watch him closely," the prefect answered. "He is a powerful man, but he does not have the making of an emperor. I would not think him any threat to you."
         "Still," Nero answered, "I do not trust him."
         As the Christians calmly walked towards the center of the ring, the roar of lions could be heard echoing from underneath the walls that surrounded the arena. Octavia could stand the sight no longer. She walked away, and Marcellus turned to watch her leave, until suddenly his attention was riveted back to the arena. A familiar voice rang out from the group of Christians.
         "Romans! Nobles! All of you waiting for us to die, I want to say something. I am Chloe, the daughter of Marcellus and Octavia. It may surprise some of you that I am here. I want to tell you that these Christians are not the criminals that my father, and Rome, have made them out to be. They are the best people I have ever had the privilege of knowing. Yes, I too have become a Christian. I have learned to truly love, even those who have hurt me. I have learned to forgive and to be forgiven. I have a meaning and purpose in life that goes beyond the emptiness of endless parties and pleasures. I have found a life worth living, and dying for.
         "There is more to life than Rome! There is Someone Who can fill the emptiness of soul that I know you feel. I was once one of you, and I felt that emptiness too. I am not ashamed to be called a Christian. I am not ashamed of Jesus, the One Who lived and died for me, for you--yes, each one of us--because He loves us."
         As Chloe continued talking, Marcellus listened, partly in hate and partly in admiration, until Nero's command rang across the arena: "Release the lions!"
         The gates were opened, and the sound of the roaring lions made Chloe's voice inaudible, but she continued to speak--until she was dragged away by one of the lions to meet her death, and her reward.
* * *
         Jerome sat on a small, wooden bench in a poverty-stricken area of the city. There was hardly anyone in sight, and everything was still. Every time someone walked by him, Jerome used the staff in his hand to draw the image of a fish in the dirt, as Chloe had instructed him. After a couple of hours of sitting there, two men rushed by, carrying baskets on their shoulders. Jerome drew a fish as usual, but they didn't stop.
         Within minutes, however, one of the men walked past again, and looked down at the ground, where Jerome was running his feet across the sand, erasing the fish he had just drawn.
         Jerome looked up to see the man walk on further. As he watched, the man turned around again, and headed back to where Jerome was sitting. The man stopped in front of Jerome, and then bent over as if to hand him something. When he walked on, Jerome noticed that the man had drawn a fish in the sand with his foot.
         He instantly stood up, and followed the man.
         When they had rounded a corner, the man turned around, seeing that Jerome had indeed followed him.
         "In whose name do you come?" the man asked.
         "I come in the name of Chloe, who told me to seek the man called Simon."
         "Very well! Follow me," the man answered kindly. The man joined his friend, who had been waiting around another corner. The two walked on and Jerome followed closely behind. They soon arrived at the mouth of the catacombs and went inside.
         Jerome had heard that the Christians now hid in the catacombs, a vast network of tombs and hallways that stretched underneath the city, but he had never been inside of them. The air was thick and heavy and the passageways were narrow. The man led Jerome through a maze of dark tunnels before they reached their final destination.
         At long last, they entered into a small candle-lit room, where a group of Christians were gathered. They were silently praying. As the men drew near, the crowd looked up and greeted them. Their looks, however, changed to ones of suspicion when they saw the newcomer. The two men nodded to a man at the end of the room, who stood up, and walked over to see them.
         "Are you the man named Simon?" Jerome asked him.
         "I am," he answered calmly, with a questioning look on his face.
         "What business do you have here, and how do you know my name?" Simon asked him.
         "I was told to find you by a friend of mine, Chloe. She said you could help me."
         "Me?--Help you?" the older man chuckled. "My good friend, what could you need my help with?"
         Jerome didn't laugh, although he realized that it looked odd for a man as strong as himself to be asking for help from Simon, who was not only much smaller in build, but skinny as well.
         "I'm sorry. I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Jerome, the son of Elmo. I have been away from Rome for the past year. But I have now returned to seek my father. Chloe told me that you would know where he is."
         "Jerome! Ah yes, I have heard of you, and I do know your father, and where he is. In fact, I am going there tonight, and would be pleased to have your company."
* * *
         Jerome and Simon waited until after dark before they set off on their journey. They again went through a maze of tunnels, but Jerome was unable to tell whether it was the same route he had taken, or an entirely different one. They emerged from a hole at the outer edge of the city. From there, they walked along a road leading away from the city.
         Simon was curious as to what had kept Jerome away from his father all this time, and so Jerome told him the whole story.
         "Your father is very concerned about you," Simon said to Jerome. "He prays for you often."
         As they went on further, Jerome grew silent. He wondered what his father would say to him and if he would be happy to see him again.
         It was still dark when they arrived at a fairly large villa, and by the sparse light of the moon, it appeared beautiful and well-kept. Stunned, Jerome asked, "My father stays here?"
         Simon only nodded, but motioned for Jerome to remain silent. It seemed something was wrong. Jerome looked around, but saw nothing suspicious. He cast a questioning look at Simon.
         "Something's not right," Simon whispered, as they came around to the main entrance. "The house seems deserted. There is always at least one person on watch, and a fire going here. It's unusually quiet."
         As Simon thought, they did find the house deserted--and locked up. There was nothing they could do but find shelter for the night. They headed for a nearby inn, a place that Simon knew well, where Christians would secretly meet each other to be brought to the villa. There they found a bed for the night, and also discovered what had happened to "the nobleman and his young lady" at the villa. Word had it that the old nobleman was a fugitive from justice, and that one of his old servants had recognized him and turned him in. They had been taken away by soldiers under Marcellus' command, and were to be tried and condemned as Christians.
         "That evil Clyde," Jerome muttered to Simon once they were in their room. "He's not going to stop me from seeing my father. Tomorrow I will return to the city and seek them out in every dungeon if I have to!"
* * *
         By first light of the sun, Jerome was on his way. He had said goodbye to Simon, who returned to the catacombs by another route to share the sad news with the other Christians, and to enjoin them to pray for Elmo and Lydia, and any others who had been taken captive.
         Once in Rome, Jerome wasted no time in trying to find his father. He headed straight for the jail where Christians were kept.
         "I have come to see Elmo, the Christian," he told the guard authoritatively. "Where is he?"
         Before the guard could answer, another man stepped into the hall from an adjacent room. "Ah, Jerome. I had heard you were in town. We've been expecting you!"
         "Clyde!" Jerome exclaimed, as he recognized--and at the same time did not recognize--the man who now stood before him. "How could you What have you done with my father? And where is Lydia?" he demanded angrily.
         "Oh, they are well enough. In fact, I have been given the privilege of escorting you directly to them!" Clyde grabbed his arm, and led him down the hall, motioning the guard to follow them.
         As they approached a small cell at the end of the hall, Jerome recognized his father and Lydia. He wrenched himself free from Clyde's grasp, and ran over to them, reaching his hands through the bars to touch them.
         "Jerome!" his father cried. "I thought I would never see you again. But you have come back, you have come back!" Tears welled up in his father's eyes, and Jerome could scarcely contain his own.
         "I have so much to say to you, Father. So much has changed "
         Jerome suddenly felt his arm locked back in Clyde's strong grasp. The soldier unlocked the iron gate, and Jerome was pushed inside. "There, now you'll have plenty of time to talk at least for awhile!" Clyde sneered. The soldier locked the door, and the three were left to themselves.
         Jerome flung his arms around his father, and they held each other for a moment. Then Elmo took a step back to look at Jerome.
         "You surely have changed, son. There is no mistaking that. The Lord told me that you would come back a wiser man, and I can see in your eyes that this promise has been fulfilled."
         Jerome looked deeply into his father's eyes. They were still the same loving eyes which he remembered. "You mean, you're not angry that I left you?"
         "How could I be, when I know that in all this, God has had His hand upon your life? No, Jerome, I am not angry. I am sorry--sorry for how difficult it has been for you, and sorry for the way I acted towards you. I could have been more understanding of you. I know that now. I have learned much this past year, and have changed a great deal. I only wish we would have had more time to get to know each other. But whatever happens, Jerome, know that I dearly love you, and always have. God works in mysterious ways, and who knows but that all this was a part of His divine plan."
         "And this," Jerome said, looking around, "you being in prison is that part of His plan too?"
         "Take heart, my son, and be strong. Remember all that your mother and I have taught you. God will take care of us. 'Fear not them which kill the body,' Jesus told us, 'for after that, there is nothing more that they can do.'"
         "Oh, Jerome," Lydia burst out, not able to contain herself any longer. She flung herself into his strong arms, and looked up into his eyes. They were locked in each other's embrace for what seemed like an eternity. Finally Jerome loosened his grasp, and held her head in his hands.
         "I've waited for this moment a long time." Slowly their lips came closer, and finally met in a moment of passion. They kissed in ardent abandon, oblivious to the world around them.
         They were suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Jerome looked up, a bit embarrassed when he realized that his father had been standing right there watching him.
         Within a few moments, Marcellus stood in front of them, Clyde behind him. "Ah, so, the young gladiator has returned!" he taunted. Jerome looked down at the ground.
         "Leave my son alone," Elmo protested. "He has done nothing against you."
         "Oh, but to the contrary," he replied, as his anger was beginning to mount by the moment. "It was he that turned my daughter into a traitorous Christian!" By the end of that sentence, he had flown into a rage. Lydia hid her face in Jerome's chest, who held his arms tightly around her, as if seeking to shield her from the wrath that filled the room as the echoes of Marcellus' outburst resonated through the hall. Even Clyde took a step back from the forceful, though sparsely built and delicately dressed man.
         Marcellus then paused for a moment, his cold eyes looking first at Elmo, then at Jerome, and then at Lydia. "Keep them here until I tell you what is to be done with them. The others can be taken away." With that, Marcellus left the room, Clyde following behind him.
* * *
         A week passed, and the three were still locked up in their spartan cell. Jerome couldn't help but wonder if his trip back to Rome had been a mistake. Everything seemed to have gone wrong. But Jerome was now much more humble. He was now willing to listen to what his father had to say. He only wished he had listened to him more before. Now, in this trying and uncertain situation, his father's peace and trust meant more to him than he had ever thought it would. Jerome now found great comfort in his father's words.
         "Father, there must be something we can do," he said at length.
         "No, Jerome, I'm afraid not."
         "But why do you think they haven't said anything to us? If they wanted to kill us, why is it taking so long?"
         "I don't know, Jerome. But all things are in the Lord's hands. We should trust that He knows what is happening, even if we don't."
         At that moment a couple of guards came over. "Which of you is the man called Jerome? You have been summoned to appear before the emperor."
         Jerome had a questioning look on his face, but Elmo motioned for him to go with the guards.
         Jerome stepped out into the hall. "May God be with you, son!" Elmo called after him. The sound of their footsteps faded into the darkness, and then all was silent once again. Lydia let out a sob, "Oh Elmo, what are they going to do to him?"
         "I don't know, Lydia. I don't know," he softly whispered.
         The soldiers led Jerome into a large hall, where they waited, not saying a word. After a few moments a door opened, and a voice decreed that the prisoner Jerome was to be brought forth. Jerome looked at the two soldiers, who were standing on either side of him. One of them motioned for him to walk forward, and he did. He was soon standing in front of the emperor himself.
         Jerome bowed in respect--he did not know what else to do--and then looked up at where Nero was seated.
         "Jerome, I hear you are a Christian. Am I correct?" Nero asked coolly.
         Jerome looked around the room. Marcellus and Clyde were there, and a roomful of others whom he took no notice of. Jerome looked boldly and directly into the emperor's eyes. "Yes," was his reply.
         "And yet I hear that you have also trained to become a gladiator?"
         "Yes," came the monosyllabic reply again.
         "A Christian who would fight to kill!" Nero mocked, as a small laugh erupted from those present. "And are you aware of what happens to those who profess to be Christians?"
         "I am."
         "So what do you have to say for yourself?"
         "I will say nothing, except that I would rather die for my faith than to submit to tyrants who profess themselves to be gods."
         Some nobles in the crowd winced in expectation of Nero's wrathful outburst. Nero, however, remained calm.
         "Jerome, Jerome! You are a young man who has his whole life before him still. Why would you throw it away for such a ridiculous reason?"
         "You are wrong, Nero! To deny my faith in the only true God, and His Son Who died for me, would be to throw my life away. I am not afraid to die for what I believe."
         "I see. Then this may be your chance. Your father has been sentenced to death, together with a young woman whom, Marcellus tells me, you've taken a liking to. And such noble love provides good opportunity for sport, I believe. You are a gladiator and a Christian, so I will give you the opportunity to die the death of both a gladiator and a Christian.
         "Seeing that you will not deny your faith, I decree that you be given a worthy opponent to fight in the arena. If you lose, Marcellus has the freedom to decide the fate of both your father and the young lady. And if you win, Jerome, your father and the young lady will be set free, and you can decide a fate for Marcellus such as pleases you. Do you agree?"
         Jerome's stomach tensed as he thought this over. A chance to get back at Marcellus! How could I turn it down? If I don't take this chance, I'll die anyway.
         Marcellus was taken aback for a moment. He had not expected that his own fate would be hanging in the same balances. But Nero now feared and distrusted Marcellus as much as any Christian, and he saw this as a sportive opportunity to pit the two against each other.
         "Most certainly," Jerome finally answered.
         "Wonderful," Nero replied gleefully. Marcellus stood up and walked over to Nero, whispering something in his ear. "A wonderful idea!" Nero exclaimed, as his face lit up with a delighted smile. "I decree that the spectacle take place a week from today. Now, you may go."
         Jerome walked out the room, hoping he'd made the right decision.
* * *
         The long awaited day for Marcellus, and the much dreaded day for Jerome, had come. As Jerome entered the arena, where several fights had already taken place, he could see his father and Lydia being led up to the podium, past Marcellus and his wife Octavia, who was still dressed in mourning apparel for her daughter.
         Jerome couldn't think about what he was about to do--it made him nervous. After his decision to fight, he had been returned to the prison, where he sought his father's blessing on this endeavor, as well as his counsel on choosing a fate for Marcellus. And now the day had come. He was as prepared as he could be, and he would have to trust God for the rest.
         Jerome heard the sound of the trumpet, calling him to come before the emperor. Dressed in a small, flimsy garment that wrapped around his waist, and carrying a sword in his hand, he walked the full length of the arena and stood directly below where the emperor, as well as Marcellus and a few other soldiers and nobles, were seated. His father and Lydia stood a short space behind Nero, unshackled, but guarded. Jerome came and stood boldly before Nero, his wavy black hair glistening in the morning sun.
         "Young man," Nero called down to him, "are you sure that you do not want to forsake following such foolish rabble as these Christians, and return to the comfortable palaces, and the open and forgiving arms of Rome?"
         "I have made my decision, and I am ready both to fight and to die for what I know to be the truth!"
         "Then turn, and behold your opponent," Nero called out. A second trumpet sounded, and the gate at the other end of the arena opened, revealing a heavily-built, armed man.
         "Clyde!" Jerome gasped, his eyes widening in shock.
         Nero stood up. "May victory be to the strongest!" With a nod of his head, the battle had begun.
         Jerome stood still for a moment, his hands tightening their grip around the hilt of his sword. He checked the straps that held the round shield to his arm, and then walked out to meet Clyde in the middle of the field.
         Jerome carefully maneuvered his way around Clyde, striking at him whenever the opportunity arose. It was obvious that Clyde had done a lot of practicing. He deftly used his own shield to defend himself against Jerome's blows. The fighting seemed almost endless as the two men continued to circle each other, first one attacking, and then the other, but neither of them gaining any clear advantage.
         It had been Marcellus' idea to pitch Jerome against someone whom he had known so well, and would therefore hopefully have more difficulty killing. Although Clyde was not an experienced fighter, neither was Jerome. Marcellus figured that Clyde's size and strength would eventually give him the advantage over Jerome's younger frame.
         The contest suddenly took a downward turn, however, when Jerome looked up at his father and Lydia. Lydia's eyes were so full of pity that Jerome could hardly pull himself away from her gaze. Clyde seized the opportunity, and with one swing of his sword cut a gash in Jerome's leg. Clyde stepped back for a moment, grinning at the sight of the blood that had begun to seep from the wound. Lydia let out a sob and covered her face. A roar of cheer arose from the grandstands, and it only grew louder and louder with each passing moment as the crowds began chanting for blood.
         Jerome was stunned. The cut was deep, and he was in danger of losing a lot of blood, as well as his composure. He looked into Clyde's eyes. They were filled with the same hatred that always emanated from Marcellus' eyes. Just the thought of it was enough to give Jerome back the strength he needed. Jerome began to swing his sword furiously, as he limped to the place where Clyde was standing. By a force of sheer determination and supernatural power, Jerome suddenly knocked Clyde's sword right out of his hand, and Clyde fell to the ground.
         In an instant, Jerome's sword was at his neck.
         The crowd suddenly fell silent. Marcellus rose to his feet in disbelief. Nero looked around at his counselors, who only sat there silently, and Jerome glanced over at him to see what he would do. Nero said nothing, signaling that it was up to the people to decide. "Kill him!" a bloodthirsty voice suddenly rang out from the grandstands, and the rest of the crowd quickly joined the chant. Jerome hesitated for a moment. Despite all that Clyde had done to his family, he did not desire to kill him, yet he had no choice. Sparing him would mean not only his own death, but his father's and Lydia's too. With one thrust of his sword, Jerome sent Clyde to his death, and the crowd let out a great cheer.
         Nero stood up and raised his hands in the air. In an instant, the crowd fell silent. Jerome looked up, and walked over to where the emperor stood.
         "It appears that your Christian God has given you the victory this day, young man," Nero said with a note of satisfaction in his voice. "I hope that the fate you have chosen for Marcellus will be equally as amusing! Let the scroll be brought to me."
         A guard handed Nero a scroll, which had been given him by Elmo. Nero quickly glanced over it, and then passed it on to the prefect to read in the ears of the people.
         "Let it be decreed " the prefect paused for a moment, and looked to Nero, as if wondering whether he should continue. Nero's face showed an almost childish expression of disappointment, but he nodded, and the guard continued. " that Marcellus from henceforth be banished from Roman soil, to live out his life as a fugitive, without a country, without a servant, without a name."
         The bloodthirsty crowd was obviously displeased, and a wave of murmurs could be heard echoing over the grandstands.
         "But my lord," a voice suddenly sprang up, and Nero turned around to see Octavia rise to her feet.
         "Ah, the wife of the poor man has somewhat to say," he acknowledged, motioning for her to speak.
         "Only this, my lord," she said in a loud enough voice that all in the grandstands could hear. "The God of the Christians may have smiled on this Christian; but let the gods of Rome deal with the son of Rome. The people should be given a spectacle worthy of such a man, who has provided us such fine spectacles himself!"
         With this, the crowds gave another cheer. Nero was not disappointed himself, but was in fact rather gleefully intrigued that this woman spoke such words against her own husband.
         "And what sort of spectacle do you suggest?" Nero asked curiously.
         "One such as has been written by his own hand," she proclaimed, holding high in her hand the scroll she had taken from Marcellus, who sat stupefied by what was happening. "Justice must be served," she whispered, looking into Marcellus' glassy eyes.
         Nero eagerly took the scroll and opened it, his eyes gleaming with delight. He handed it to the guard, who stood again to proclaim the sentence of this man to all the people.
         "Let it be decreed--by the gods of Rome--that this man be placed in the arena, alone and unarmored, to be torn apart and trampled upon by a wild bull!"
         The crowds cheered again, and then began chanting, "Blood, blood!" but Nero stopped them.
         "We shall have to wait until our Christian can witness his glorious victory!" Nero said as he pointed to Jerome, who had been forgotten in the commotion following his victory. He had fallen to the ground from exhaustion and loss of blood.
         Elmo and Lydia had already risen, and now that they were at liberty, they rushed down to see Jerome, and commanded some attendants to take him to a nearby room where he could have his wounds tended to.
* * *
         Hours later, Jerome awoke and, remembering what had happened, his thoughts were immediately occupied with what had become of Marcellus. He sat up, and saw Lydia sitting at the foot of the bed. Suddenly everything else faded into oblivion.
         "Oh, Jerome, you're all right. I was so worried about you. How are you feeling?"
         He looked down at his bandaged leg, and winced as he tried to move it. "Marcellus! What happened to Marcellus?"
         "Nero rejected our choice that he be banished," she replied with no hint of disappointment in her voice. "Marcellus is to be killed, Jerome, condemned to die by his own wife--and according to the judgment written by his own hand intended for your father. Vengeance is of the Lord!"
         "But they can't kill him--not yet! I have to find out what he did to my mother--I have to know."
         "Don't worry, Jerome, there will be time for that. The execution has been delayed until you are well enough to attend the spectacle. Now, Jerome, relax and try to get some rest."
         But Jerome was already sitting up. Nothing would deter him from going to see Marcellus. He was soon making his way to the room where Marcellus was being held.
         Marcellus was severely angry. He was punching the walls he was chained to and fiercely kicking his legs like a spoiled child. "Ah, the killing Christian is here," Marcellus taunted as Jerome walked into the room. "I thought you would have shown more mercy for an old friend. Otherwise I could easily have fought you myself, and won."
         Jerome did not bother to mention the obvious error in the man's statement. Clyde was at least twice the size of Marcellus, and Jerome had beaten him.
         Marcellus continued his taunting monologue. "I'll wager you enjoyed that battle, didn't you, even if it was an old friend? See, it's not so difficult to be a tyrant after all, is it?" Marcellus stopped when he realized nothing he said would aggravate Jerome.
         Jerome stood there calmly, until Marcellus had made an end of his taunting. "Marcellus, what has become of my mother?"
         "As if I would tell you, Jerome." Marcellus cackled with glee, until Jerome grabbed him by his collar and shook him violently.
         "Tell me where I can find my mother!" he demanded.
         "Really now, Jerome. Have you never learned the art of negotiation? What will you do for me if I tell you?"
         "What can I do for you? Your own wife wants you dead."
         "So I will die without telling you."
         "No, Marcellus, you're wrong. If you don't tell me, I'll have them keep you alive. I'll have you thrown in a dungeon somewhere, and give you barely enough food to survive. Or maybe I'll have you tortured, as you have done to so many of my friends." Jerome tightened his grip on Marcellus' clothes, as he became visibly upset. "Yes, Marcellus, you will tell me--and you will tell me the truth, because until I know for sure what happened to my mother, I will make your life so miserable that you will wish for death, but not find it!"
         Jerome let go of Marcellus, who remained silent. Marcellus realized he would not win this time. Had this sudden turn of events only been a strange twist of fate, or was it the hand of a God Whom Jerome had refused to deny? Marcellus said no more. Jerome felt weak from the fight, and the added strain of confronting this heartless soul was almost too much for Jerome. "I'll give you until dawn tomorrow to think about it," Jerome said as he turned to leave. "I will be back!"
* * *
         The night had passed slowly for Jerome, who fell into a restless sleep, but nevertheless morning had soon come, and Marcellus had given his answer. Ethna, his mother, had been sent to be one of emperor Claudius' concubines, but Marcellus did not know what had become of her when Nero took to the throne. "You can direct any questions to the head maid. She should be able to tell you more," Marcellus had told Jerome.
         Jerome wasted no time in starting his search. He was at a loss as to where to go, but he figured the palace grounds would be a good place to start.
         Jerome approached a guard to ask for directions, but the guard didn't seem to know much and so he referred Jerome to another guard, who referred him to another, and on it went.
         After much time, Jerome found himself face to face with a very stern-looking man.
         "Why have you come here, disturbing the guards of the emperor?" the man gruffly asked him.
         "I must speak with the head maid of the concubines," was Jerome's prompt reply.
         "'I must speak with the head maid of the concubines,'" the man parroted jokingly, and broke into a laugh. Jerome grinned, but the man's face suddenly grew stern. "Don't waste my time, boy. Be gone, and don't let me see your face again!"
         "Wait! Please, sir," he said, a little more respectfully this time. "I'm searching for my mother, and I was told I might find her here."
         "Your mother, huh? Ha! There are no mothers here, kid! And even if she was, you would never be allowed to see her--these ladies are for the emperor only."
         "Please, sir, at least I'd like to find out if she is here."
         The guard thought for a moment, suspiciously eyeing Jerome. "Okay, I'll inform the head maid of your presence. You may wait in the hall, but if I hear of any trouble, it will be your life before mine, understood?"
         Jerome nodded, and the man called a guard to escort Jerome to a nearby hall, where he was again told to wait. Soon a stocky older woman came in. "So, what do you want here, young man?" she asked brusquely. The stern look on her face made Jerome a little nervous.
         "I've uh I've come to see if my mother is here."
         "Young man, this is the house of the emperor's women, and you come here to look for a mother?"
         "Yes Marcellus told me she was here."
         "Ah, yes, Marcellus. And what is her name?"
         "Ethna."
         "Ethna," the lady repeated slowly, as if searching her memory for someone by that name. "Why yes, of course. Ethna, now I remember. Yes, she was here--but that was a long time ago." The woman fell silent for a minute, as if she was thinking back on times long past.
         "So are you going to tell me where she is?" Jerome asked impatiently.
         "Oh, I'm sorry," she replied. "As I said, it was a long time ago. She is no longer here--she didn't last long here when Nero discovered she was a Christian. But I don't know what became of her."
         A young woman came out from a nearby room and whispered something to the older lady. She looked back at Jerome and then said, "I'll see what I can find out for you. Come back tomorrow, early, and we can talk. Just tell the guards that Garlene has sent for you. They'll let you in." The lady got up and turned to leave, but not before drawing a fish in the dirt of a nearby planter.
* * *
         Jerome arose at the crack of dawn the next morning, and instantly made his way to the palace. Garlene, the woman Jerome had talked with, was waiting for him at the same place they had met the day before.
         "You are a Christian too?" Jerome asked.
         "Yes, I and many of the girls here. We have to be very careful, though, because there are many who would kill us if they found out, not least of whom the emperor himself. But when you told me you were the son of Ethna, I knew I could trust you. She was a close friend of mine, but she never spoke of any family. It must have been too hard for her. She did tell me about Marcellus, and how it was she got here. Ethna was not the first woman to suffer such cruelty at his hands, and his name is known all too well here. I hope that devil gets what he deserves one of these days."
         "That day may now have come. But tell me, what else do you know of my mother?"
         "She was a kind and loving woman, and she soon became a favorite of the emperor Claudius. He treated her well. But then Claudius was killed. Nero did not take the same liking to her, but a visiting dignitary from Babylon fancied her, and so Nero gave her as a gift to this man. He took her with him to Babylon, along with her maidservant. A month later, the servant returned, on Ethna's orders, and has remained here since. I talked with the servant last night, and she gave me this."
         Garlene produced a faded leather pouch, inside of which was a piece of parchment with curious writings on it. "Your mother had told the maidservant that if anyone should ever inquire about her, to give that person this paper. Of course, that was many years ago. I do not know what may have become of her in all this time. But the answers you seek may well be contained here."
         Jerome took the pouch solemnly, and thanked Garlene. He could hardly wait to be on his way. Jerome shared the good news, and his plan, with his father and Lydia. He would travel to Babylon and unravel whatever secret was contained upon this faded piece of parchment.
         Hearing that Jerome had now recovered, Nero ordered the spectacle of Marcellus' judgment to take place that day at noon, much to the delight of the Roman public who had eagerly been awaiting the final of this bizarre vendetta between these two men. And so it happened that Marcellus found himself alone in the arena, with a raging bull, to meet his fate.
         Jerome did not stay to watch the outcome. He knew who would win. He set off for Babylon, leaving the decadent city of Rome behind him.
* * *
         Babylon was very different from Rome and it took Jerome some time to adjust. This was one place Jerome had never heard much of, and he found himself fascinated by the place and how the people lived. He would show the parchment to passersby, but they only shook their heads. Either they could not read what the message on the paper said, or they did not know what it meant. Jerome had no way of knowing, as many just shrugged their shoulders and walked on.
         Finally a simply dressed older man came up to him. "Sir, I can see that you have come from afar. Do you need assistance?"
         Thankful to find someone who would stop long enough to talk and who spoke Latin, he replied, "Why yes, I do, in fact. Can you tell me what is written here?" Jerome showed the man the piece of parchment paper.
         "I cannot read such things," the man said apologetically, "but I know someone who can--and where you may find the answer you are seeking. Follow me!"
         Unsure, but with nothing else to try, Jerome followed the man through an intricate maze of streets, until finally they came to the edge of the city, a short distance from which stood a single, mud-brick house. "This place has the answer I'm looking for?" he questioned unbelievingly. The old man simply motioned for Jerome to enter.
         It was the house of a soothsayer, and inside, behind an old table, sat a very old woman. "Come in, come in," she grinned, revealing what few teeth she had left. This woman was obviously not very rich. He walked over and sat down on a short bench opposite the lady.
         "Ma'am," Jerome spoke, "I'm looking for my mother, she's here somewhere. She gave me a message, it's on this parchment here." He took out the leather pouch, and opened it to reveal the well-preserved slip of parchment. "Your friend told me that it is a riddle. I'll give you money--lots of it--if you can help me decipher the meaning of this message."
         "Show me the paper," the lady said solemnly. Jerome handed it to her, and she studied it closely. She closed her eyes, and after a moment's pause slowly began speaking. "Yes, she is here, close by--I can feel her presence." Her look suddenly changed to one of pleasant surprise, although her eyes remained closed. "Was she a queen?"
         "No." Jerome shook his head and, impatient to find out what the message said, asked, "So what does the message say?"
         The lady opened her eyes and stared at Jerome, long enough to make him feel quite uncomfortable.
         "It says, 'I go from whence I came. I do what I know best--with the children." Jerome tried to think what that would mean. "How can she go from where she came? That doesn't make sense."
         "What did your mother do before she left?" the old lady asked him.
         "She was the emperor's concubine."
         The lady closed her eyes again--perhaps she was thinking, perhaps seeing a vision. She spoke haltingly. "Not a queen but still could it be a palace?"
         "A palace!" Jerome echoed as he thought aloud. "'From whence I came.' Yes, that's it. And 'with the children' my mother always taught us herself. We had our servants, but she would tutor us. Could it be that she is a tutor somewhere in a palace?" Jerome stood up swiftly. "Where can I find the palace?"
         The woman gave him directions. It would be at least a day's journey from there. Jerome thanked the lady and dropped a handful of money in her lap. He was thankful to be able to leave that eerie place, and to have an idea of what he was looking for.
* * *
         The following afternoon, Jerome arrived at the palace entrance. It was a magnificent structure. Jerome hardly knew where he would start, or even how he could enter. It looked as if he could walk right in, but if anyone stopped him, what would he say? And even if he did get in, how would he know where to search?
         Jerome walked up the steps that led into the outer grounds of the palace compound. A couple of guards came over, obviously curious as to what his business was.
         Not knowing if they could understand him or not, Jerome told them, "I have come here to find a friend."
         The two guards looked at each other, and motioned for him to follow them. Warily watching, they escorted Jerome to a small room, where they motioned for him to sit down. Jerome did as they asked. One of the guards then disappeared through a door, while the other remained, keeping a suspicious eye on Jerome.
         Before long the first guard returned with another man whom, Jerome was thankful to discover, spoke Latin. "What is it you have come for?" he asked in a very businesslike manner.
         "I have come to search out a friend," Jerome repeated. "I have been told that that she may be here."
         "She?" The man raised his eyebrows in obvious interest, but his face suddenly became stern again. "And what should stop me from thinking that you are a spy, come to find whatever information you may gather?"
         "Please, sir," Jerome begged. "I have traveled a long way from Rome to find my mother. I heard she may be here. Do you know of a Roman lady here by the name of Ethna?"
         "There are many people that come and go around here, young man. I do not keep track of them all."
         "No, but she would be a teacher or working with children!" Jerome didn't sound too clear, and the man was not too impressed with his story.
         "A teacher, you say? Listen, stranger, Roman ladies do not just walk in here and become teachers."
         It seemed as if Jerome wasn't making any progress. The man turned to the guards, however, and appeared to be asking them something. Jerome looked on, hopeful. The man suddenly turned back to Jerome. "Come with me," he ordered.
         Jerome followed the man through hallways, courtyards, and finally into some kind of council chamber. A man, who appeared to be some important official or ruler, stood at the end of a table talking with some other men who stood gathered around him. They stopped talking when the two men came into the room.
         "Sire, I believe this young man may have something to tell you," Jerome's guide told the richly dressed man.
         Jerome looked at his guide, and then back at the man. The other men in the room stood there, looking somewhat agitated at the interruption.
         Jerome gathered all the respect he could muster, as he was not sure what sort of station this man held. "Sire, I am extremely sorry to disturb you with such a small matter. I am Jerome, a citizen of Rome. I have come in hopes of finding my mother, a Roman woman named Ethna. I believe she came here from Rome many years ago."
         The man seemed interested. He whispered something into one of his advisor's ears, and then dismissed everyone from the room, except for the translator, who was standing next to Jerome. Jerome continued, feeling more at ease now. "Through a series of events I have come to the conclusion that she may be here in the palace. But no one seems to be able to help me find her."
         "Your mother, you say? And what makes you think that you would find her here, in the palace? What would she be doing?"
         "I'm not sure, sir. But I believe that perhaps she's working with children somewhere?"
         The man fell silent for a moment, and seemed impressed by Jerome's answers. Finally he spoke. "I believe that your search may well have come to an end. Yes, there is a woman here by the name of Ethna. She works for me--teaching my children. I have five children who were a rowdy bunch. But this woman, Ethna your mother she took a great liking to them. Among all my servants and maids, there was not one who would love and care for my children as much as she, so I gave her the job of being the personal care-taker of my own children. I am proud to say she has done marvelous things with them, and we have come to know each other quite well."
         The doors of the room suddenly opened, and in walked a beautiful woman whom Jerome barely recognized but it was his mother.
         "Mother?" he questioned. He stood frozen to the floor, as all the memories of his past suddenly rushed upon him. "Have I found you? Is it really you?"
         "Jerome?" his mother exclaimed. "My son, my boy!" She threw her arms around him in a joyful embrace, and neither of them could hold back the tears that rolled hotly down their cheeks. After a few moments, she held him back out at arms' length.
         "Oh, my son, my own son! How you have grown! Just look at you, such a handsome young man--oh, my Jerome. How are your father, and your brothers and sisters? Oh tell me, you must tell me everything!" Jerome looked over at the man, who was still standing there, silently watching this emotional reunion. He nodded to them, and they walked out to a spacious garden which was enclosed within the palace walls. There they walked, as Jerome told his mother all that had happened over the past few weeks, months, and years.
         Within days, Jerome started off back to Rome. He arranged for his father to be taken to the palace in Babylon, where he was reunited with his beloved wife, and there they remained, together.
         Jerome went back to Rome and married Lydia. They lived with Lydia's mother, Claudia, and had two children, whom they taught and raised in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.
* * *
         Five years had passed since the time that Jerome had found his mother. Emperor Vespasian now sat on the throne of Rome, and the persecution of Christians had abated.
         Today everyone was especially excited as Elmo and Ethna were coming from Babylon. This would be their first visit to Rome since the time Elmo had moved to Babylon. It would also be their first time to meet their grandchildren, Chloe, four years old, and little Adrian, just two.
         As soon as the neighing of the horses from the approaching wagon reached the children's ears, they dashed out the door. "Grandma! Grandpa!" they shouted excitedly.
         "Oh, dear, look! Our grandchildren!" Ethna exclaimed.
         "They're lovely," Elmo added, looking to Jerome and Lydia.
         Jerome walked over. "Father, Mother, welcome back to Rome. It's wonderful to see you."
         "Yes," Lydia joined in. "It's been a long time."
         Claudia joined in on the fun as little Adrian entertained Elmo and Ethna with his charm and his playful antics. "He reminds me so much of my husband in his looks and character," Claudia said. "I'm so thankful for him."
         Jerome led his parents over to a small sitting area where they all knelt together and gave thanks to the Lord for bringing them all back together. Even little Adrian knelt down and folded his hands to pray.
         When they had finished, Elmo stood up. "Now, I have a surprise of my own. Let's not waste any time." He turned to little Chloe and Adrian. "How would you two like to ride with Grandpa on the horsy wagon? We're going to go for a little ride. Come on, Daddy and Mommy," he said cutely, looking at Jerome and Lydia. "Shall we?!"
         The two children were incredibly excited and jumped up and down uncontrollably. "Yes, yes!" little Chloe shouted. "Come on, Mommy! Come on, Daddy! Let's go!"
         Within a few minutes they were all heading down a small road, bouncing up and down in the simple horse-drawn wagon. By the distinctly familiar paths and houses and trees that they were passing, it soon became apparent to Jerome where they were going--the old mansion and home that they had been forced to leave what seemed like an eternity ago.
         Elmo's face gleamed as he told the story, and revealed the surprise. After they had been forced out, Marcellus had taken possession of this property for himself, but after his death, it had fallen into the hands of the emperor. Now, Elmo had managed to buy it back, and he was going to be moving back in, together with Ethna--and the young child that she was now expecting.
         Jerome looked at his father, who was sitting proudly on the wagon, little Chloe and Adrian on his lap. Jerome had never seen his father so happy.
         "You know, children," he was saying, "once upon a time, when your father was as old as you are now, we used to live in this house. One day he was out in the back, playing with one of the horses, when "
         Jerome fell silent, as the stories his father told his spellbound little audience brought back his own memories of that long-ago time--and how suddenly everything had changed. Lydia slipped her arm around Jerome, and looked lovingly into his eyes. Jerome smiled at Lydia. He knew she was thinking the same thing he was: They were both thankful those days were over.

The End

Definitions included throughout booklet:
         * Praetorian prefect: the head of a regiment of the Praetorian Guard, the personal bodyguards of the emperors of Rome


Copyright (c) 1998 by Aurora Productions