The Last Voyage of the Emir Page 2

  “I’m afraid I don’t have much to tell you. I was just talking to the captain of this wooden rat trap. I was hoping we would be making quick progress. I, too, am getting tired of this standing around and waiting. I hope the soldiers are keeping up with their assigned duties?” Julius said.

  “I think they are growing weary as well. I had to reprimand Cassius and Porcius from the Asian cohort for their sloppy appearance. They seem to like going off on their own, whispering and laughing at their private jokes. I’ll need to keep an eye on them,” Gaius reported. “What did the captain have to say?”

  Julius scowled. “I think we may be stuck on board for longer than we had hoped. The winds have been contrary and slowed our progress. The captain was hoping to have been much further along by now, but we have been forced to follow the coastline instead of a more direct route. We should have reached Cnidus in just one or two days with the right winds. He hopes we can be there in the next few days and then we may have a better chance of favorable winds.”

  “Aargh! Maybe I should just swim!”

  “You know you are afraid of the water!” Julius said with a laugh. “It was all I could do to get you to follow my orders to come on this journey!”

  “True. I still hate being trapped on this wooden raft so far from solid ground! But, I know better than to disobey a direct order. Besides, I am ready to be done with Palestine. It is dry and dusty, and I have always wanted to go to Rome.” His smile faded. “Plus getting away from family memories may be a good thing.”

  Julius studied his face for a moment. “Gaius, your troubles with your father will fade. Don’t be too quick to turn away from your family.”

  “That is not for you to judge,” he said, more sharply than he intended. “You could not understand what happened between us. I would prefer you stay out of my business.” He turned to survey the deck. “I better make my rounds to check on the men and the prisoners,” he said as he turned to go.

  He winced slightly. “I’m sorry Gaius. Someday maybe we can talk more about this. I’ll see you soon.” He watched as Gaius waved halfheartedly and walked away.

  Chapter Three

  The sun was hot on his back but one good thing about the ship was there was always a breeze. The wind was vital to its progress across the sea, and on warm days like this, it served to cool down the crew. It was stifling down in the hold. Being on deck meant he was working, but he had learned to sneak a rest now and then, sitting with his back against the railing of the ship in the shade. There were rare times he had been caught and his ribs still ached where he had been kicked as an “incentive” to do his work.

  Temeros had been on board now for a few days. Initially, he felt queasy as he adjusted to the continual rocking of the ship. He quickly adapted, and by the third day, he had felt much more at ease. He had started to win over the crew with his willingness to work, but mostly he kept to himself.

  When he was alone, his mind naturally went back almost three years to the events that changed his life. The scars on his body may be visible, but there were also invisible scars on his soul, with anger and a desire for vengeance that would well up in him at various times. The attack that disrupted his family was a horrible memory. His father was dead, so anger toward him was futile but still simmered in him, occasionally flaming hotter and brighter until he could regain composure. More than once he had lashed out at people around him, with the result being more time on the road, traveling from town to town looking for a place to heal and forget the past. It was hard to form any semblance of friendship as he pushed others away and continued moving.

  His father was the direct cause of his exile from home and friends, but two other names were associated with his pain. His father had been consumed with anger, screaming about Paul, and his teaching about the prophet, Jesus, ruining his life as he in turn ruined those around him. Temeros had not forgotten these names linked to his scars.

  In his quiet moments, lying on his pallet trying to sleep, he would subconsciously trace the irregular shape of his ear and the firm scar tissue around it. No hair would grow there, so he learned to keep his head covered with a head scarf. Sometimes, if no one was nearby, he took out the silver pendant and looked at his reflection in its polished surface. The physical pain had long since faded. In fact the scars on his head were numb now. The ache in his heart had not resolved, however. The simmering pang of loss was always with him.

  —­————

  The scabs and oozing of the sores had taken several weeks to heal, with so much pain at the first. He was on his own and had run away after that awful night. His memory was a blur now but he ran north. He had some realization that Smyrna was that direction and was a center for medical training. He might find someone who could help him. After hours on the road, he was weak, unsteady on his feet, and he must have looked awful with the side of his head so scarred. He found a dry place by the road and laid down, pain searing into his consciousness until he passed out.

  He was not sure how long he was unconscious, but he awoke in a room with low light provided by a lantern. He still had pain but it was muted. He reached toward his head and felt a damp cloth covering the painful area.

  “Don’t touch it!” a man’s voice had said. “I just put the salve on it and it will take some time to calm down the swelling. Just rest. I will get you something to drink and to soothe the pain.”

  He turned his head toward the speaker and saw a tall dark-haired man, with a look of concern on his face. The man rose and went to a nearby table, poured some water into a cup, and picked up a small parcel, returning to the bedside. He reached an arm under Temeros’ shoulders and helped him sit up.

  “Here, drink some water. Your mouth is very dry,” the man said, holding the cup to his lips.

  He remembered the water was like a magic potion. He had never had such a satisfying drink before that point in his life. The act of swallowing, however, increased his pain and he winced, groaning with pain.

  “Let me give you some medicine to help the pain,” the man said

  “Who are you?” he croaked, barely recognizing his own voice.

  “My name is Luke. I’m a doctor. What is your name?”

  “I am Temeros. Where am I?”

  “I found you by the road as I was returning to Smyrna for my studies. We are at an inn near where you had fallen. You have been badly hurt. It looks like a burn. Can you tell me what happened?”

  The memories flooded back, and for a moment he could not speak. “There was a fire at my home. I… I ran away.”

  Luke’s brow furrowed slightly. “Where is your family?” he asked.

  Temeros turned away, shaking his head slightly, and then wincing with pain. “They perished in the fire,” he said, beginning to weep.

  Luke put his arm around his shoulders. “I’m so sorry. Let me give you something to help your pain. This is a paste of willow bark, and if you chew on it, the juice will begin to help in a few minutes.” He placed a pinch of dried, crushed bark into his cheek.

  Luke paused, looking at him. “I want you to know that there is a God who loves you and will help you through this.”

  At these words, Temeros’ face clouded. “I don’t want to hear about any god. My family was very religious in the temple in Ephesus. Artemis took over my father’s life. All religion only causes more suffering.”

  Luke was silent for a moment. “I will not force this discussion on you when you are hurting so badly, but I hope we will have a chance to discuss this further when you are healed. For now, you need rest.”

  Temeros calmed a bit, lying back against the pillow. The paste in his cheek left a bitter taste but he was beginning to feel less pain. After a few minutes, his breathing deepened and his mind wandered. The low light and warmth in the room allowed him to drift off to sleep.

  The next few days were a blur. His pain was sometimes severe and delirium accompanied his fluctuating fever. The man, Luke, was ever present with a cool cloth for his face, water to drin
k, and bread when he was able to take it. Gradually the pain was less and he was able to stand and walk around. Luke taught him to wrap the burned area, as the blisters slowly stopped oozing. After about four days, it was still tender and swollen but the pain was tolerable. They did not return to the subject of religion.

  Luke was trying to help him find a place to stay or to contact relatives who could help him. Temeros was not interested in returning to any family. There were too many deep hurts and bad memories. His mother was gone, and his father too. He was overwhelmed with a mix of grief and anger, sometimes crying, sometimes silently fuming inside. He did not want to talk to this stranger about what happened, not yet. It was too fresh. He needed time to process it and to decide what his next move would be.

  He was only seventeen. He had been helping his father, the silversmith, and learning to craft various items. He had not developed any other skills he could do at his age, especially with no resources. He needed to get away from here, to find a place where he could hire himself out to earn money for food and shelter. He did not want to depend on this stranger for help, although he did not want to tell him that.

  On the fifth morning, he awoke to an empty room. Luke must have gone out for some supplies. Temeros dressed and got a drink. He took one more dose of the willow bark to help his pain, although it was not bad now. He let himself out of the small room and looked around. He did not see anyone in the hallway but could hear voices in the next room, and he recognized Luke’s voice. He turned the other way and quietly opened the door at the end of the hall and left.

  If he went north to Smyrna, he was afraid he would be found by Luke. He wanted no further obligation to him. He had no desire to return to Ephesus. There was nothing for him there but painful memories and grief. He decided to aim for the coast. Maybe he would find escape from his painful life there.

  From that day on, he had been on his own. He had traveled in the region stopping at various towns. In some places he was able to find work cleaning at an inn or helping on a farm in exchange for food and shelter. He never stayed long in any one place. His pain faded as the scar matured. His left ear was misshapen but his hearing was still fairly good. The numbness became a minor inconvenience as time passed.

  He slowly made his way south to Myra, on the coast. It was a hub of activity, and he was able to find work fairly easily. Over time, he became more fascinated with the port and would spend time watching the ships enter and leave the harbor. In his quiet moments, he felt so alone and displaced that he began to imagine what it would be like to just get on a ship and leave.

  The months had turned into years and now, after two years, he started watching for an opportunity. He hired on at the port to load and unload the ships, giving himself over to his work. On his off days, there were drinks, and women to entertain him, but the feeling of emptiness and longing for another life and a new start never left.

  Finally, he saw the huge grain ship. The mast in the center of this ship stood tall, and the front of the ship had a large figurehead that had been weathered over time. Although it had been repainted, the once bright colors had faded under the sun and salt spray of the sea. It appeared to be a carving of a beautiful woman holding a baby. This seemed strange since the men said the ship was called The Emir, or The Prince, but he only considered that for a moment and then quickly forgot about it. It was the largest ship he had seen in the port since he had been there. He was intrigued by it and decided it was time to leave Myra.

  He approached the master of the ship and worked up the courage to ask him for a job. He was in luck, as three of the crew had been injured in a fall from the mast. Since an injured crewman is useless on a ship, they were quickly sent ashore and told to find their own way home. Temeros was given a spot to put his meager possessions down in the crew quarters and was put to work.

  He was so busy learning what was expected of him that he was only dimly aware of other passengers arriving and making arrangements for passage. He did see several soldiers on board and thought that was odd, but he was kept busy in the hold stacking the sacks of grain and filling the water cistern and loading other supplies as they prepared for a voyage to Rome.

  Rome! He had not even bothered to ask where the ship was going, being more interested in just getting away and leaving his painful past behind him. But he never imagined he would have the chance to go to Rome! His heart leaped at the thought of all the possibilities ahead, changing his fate.

  Now, after a few days at sea, the routine of the ship was beginning to set in. As he went about his work, he started to look more closely at the others on board. All told, there must have been over 200 people on the ship, so he had to be careful not to stumble over the passengers sitting around on the deck.

  He noticed a group of people that tended to congregate in the prow of the ship. About fifteen or twenty sat in a group with several Roman soldiers close by. He finally asked another crew member about them and was told they were prisoners being transported to Rome. This fascinated him!

  He walked closer to the group, wondering what a Roman prisoner looked like. Surely they must have done something horrible to be sent so far under guard! Maybe they were heading to the Coliseum to fight to the death! But he realized with some disappointment that they were pretty docile. In fact there seemed to be one prisoner speaking while the others were listening as though in school. He could not see very clearly since others were standing around.

  As he got closer, he could see that the prisoner was gesturing to one of the Roman soldiers standing guard nearby. The guard did not appear very happy to be the center of attention of the prisoners, but the man did not seem to be inciting the prisoners to rebel. Rather, Temeros could hear him talking about the way the soldier was dressed.

  “You see, he has a helmet to guard his head and a shield and sword as well as a breastplate. The prophet Isaiah once talked about his people seeking justice and salvation and then God responding by sending an intercessor. He described that intercessor as having ‘righteousness as a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on His head; He put on the garments of vengeance for clothing, and was clad with zeal as a cloak’.1 In the same way, we who follow Christ are in a battle. Not against Rome! We battle against rulers of darkness of this age, spiritual hosts of wickedness. We, also, need to be wearing armor in the battle. We need the breastplate of God’s righteousness and the helmet of His salvation but also His truth as a belt and faith in Him as a shield. With these, we are protected by God from the spiritual attacks we will face as we follow our Lord Jesus.”2

  At the mention of that name, Jesus, Temeros lost interest. He did not want to be reminded of the troubles in his life related to that name. He began to back away from the crowd. As he did, he glanced at the others standing around and stopped in his tracks in shock! One of the men was slim, tall, and dark haired and so familiar to him. He subconsciously reached for the scars on his ear as he stood gaping in surprise. Without a doubt, it was Luke, the doctor that had nursed him to health so many months before.

  Notes:

  1 Isaiah 59:17

  2 Based on Ephesians 6:12–17

  Chapter Four

  His shock lasted for a few seconds before his mind began to work more clearly. He realized he had been staring at Luke and quickly averted his gaze. As he did, he noticed Luke look over at him and he braced himself for an uncomfortable confrontation, but it never came. Luke did not show any recognition. Temeros realized it had been a couple of years since their painful meeting, and since then he had grown and become more muscular, now having a short beard and weathered skin. Of course, the head scarf covered the scars that could have identified him to the doctor. Luke glanced at him curiously and then looked away.

  Temeros wandered toward the other side of the ship as his thoughts whirled. Should he go talk to him? Would Luke be angry that he had disappeared without any word or sign of gratitude? Would he demand some sort of payment for the care he provided? (Doctors could be so arrogant and greedy at ti
mes!)

  His thoughts were interrupted by his boss, the foreman in charge of the ship’s crew.

  “Sabbi!” he yelled. “What are you doing? Stop daydreaming. Come here and help rig the sails!”

  His boss was from Egypt, where the ship was based. He was known as Rayiz (Arabic for boss) and could be very strict but was also fair. He had taken to calling him Sabbi, which he learned meant “boy” in Arabic.

  Temeros’ heart skipped and he hurried over to the mast where Rayiz was pointing. He feared he was in trouble but the chief had already moved on to yell at another crew member, so he figured he would be saved any punishment for now.

  One of the crew, Erastus, was looking up at the sail. He had been sailing on this ship for a few voyages and was well respected by the other crew members. He looked over at Temeros.

  “Sabbi!” he called out. “I need your help. The rigging for the sail needs to be tightened. There’s not enough wind, so the cloth is just hanging and it starts to loosen the support lines. I need you to climb up with me so we can adjust the ropes and tighten them.”

  Temeros swallowed hard. He was not fond of heights but knew he could not back down from this or he would definitely be punished. Even worse, he would be thought a coward by the rest of the crew. He nodded and said “Ok, just tell me how I can help.”

  “Just follow me and put your hands and feet where I do. Once we reach the crossbar up there, we will each take a side. I’ll talk you through it.” Erastus noticed his clenched jaw and the film of perspiration breaking out on his forehead and his expression softened. “Don’t worry. It is always scary the first time but it is much easier than it sounds. Just keep your eyes focused on where you are climbing, and don’t look down. If you start to get dizzy, let me know.”

  He nodded, the fear relaxing its grip on him ever so slightly. He took a deep breath and said “Ready when you are.”