The Blood of the Martyrs (21 page)

‘But suppose you did,' said Argas, ‘and you got kiss for kiss from me, and more—what would it do to both of us? We'd want to grab one another, wouldn't we? We'd
be apt to get angry and jealous. And it would come between us and the rest of the Church, being two instead of being all. It would come between us and the words of the prayer and the remembering of Jesus.'

‘Manasses seemed to think,' said Beric, ‘that your Jesus said we'd got to cut out all this if we wanted the Kingdom. Have we really got to?'

‘The Jews don't hold with it,' Argas said, ‘as between man and man. It's against their Law. They're always wanting to have children. Even Manasses really wants that. But I'm a Greek, and what I think is that Jesus wouldn't let Himself get tied up with love for any single man or woman because He meant His love to be for all. There was an old woman, I can't remember her name, only she was in Rome last year; she stayed with Claudia Acté. All of us went over to the other Church to hear what she'd got to say. She came from one of those little towns on the sea of Galilee, but she spoke Greek, so she must have been someone in her time. She was on her way north, telling about Jesus in the new Churches. She'd been in love with Him, and He'd been kind, the way it still made her happy thinking about it, but not different to how He was to all who were in the Kingdom with Him. I think that old lady must have been very beautiful then; maybe it was difficult for Him not to love her more than others. But there it was. Now I'll tell you something. I think you only kissed me because you've felt full of love to us all ever since the feet-washing and it was only me because I happened to be there.' Beric gave a start; it was a disquieting echo of what he had said to Flavia and forgotten, but now remembered. Perhaps it was always true of all love-making? Argas went on, ‘You wouldn't have kissed old Sophrosyne or Dapyx, say; it wouldn't have fitted. But Sapphira or Phaon or Lalage? Wouldn't any of us have done?'

‘Yes,' said Beric. ‘I think you're right. I don't know myself just now. Oh, I wish you'd all let me be baptised soon!'

‘I expect we shall,' said Argas. ‘Come on down or we shall be late.'

Actually they were almost the last to get down to the boiler-room and most of the business discussion was over.
They gave one another the peace greeting. Manasses was there, and so were Euphemia, Lalage and Sophrosyne. Lalage had had one dinner engagement since the fire; she wouldn't let the Church open a special fund for her dresses, but she'd borrowed a couple from Claudia Acté, who had seemed, she thought, to be sadder than usual. Her little house was full of refugees, and she was cheerful enough to them, but something was wrong underneath. Lalage wondered if she'd ever be told what it was. Persis, Josias and Dapyx were there from the house, though Persis was a little worried. Supposing her mistress wanted her? She knew that the Italian maid assumed that she'd slipped out to meet a lover and would be correspondingly sympathetic and helpful, but still—if Flavia woke up and for some reason wanted
her
? Well, it would be worth it.

Beric found that all of them met his eyes now, and smiled. Niger said, ‘I'm sorry I couldn't get to answering you that day, brother. Things was just so I couldn't.'

‘I know,' said Beric. ‘Next time I'll just look at you and you'll know I'm thinking it.'

Rhodon and Phineas were there too, but again Sapphira hadn't been able to get away. She and the Christian widow, and perhaps one or two other women, would be praying now. Rhodon explained that he had begun to tell Abgar, who was now working with him for his keep. But not enough, yet, to bring him. Beric couldn't help supposing that Rhodon was bound to take a long time to get that far with anyone.

On their way down Argas had gone into the room where the oil jars were stored. He brought out their cup and filled it from an earthenware wine jar which was hidden in a hole in the wall. He said to Beric, ‘We bought it ourselves. It's not good wine. But—'

‘I shall like it,' Beric said.

Everyone who had come in from the outside had brought food, except Niger. Euphemia and Lalage had fried a nice piece of fish. Rhodon had brought a small pot of honey and Phineas some lettuce and a couple of hard-boiled eggs which they cut up into slices; he couldn't bring much because of their refugees. They hadn't any bread yet, but Beric recognised that what the house slaves had brought was part of the
remains of dinner, the usual perquisite of the dining-room boys. Yes, there were the extra slices that had been cut off the roast kid, and some mixed vegetables—he knew he hadn't finished what was on his plate, nor had Crispus. And there were some bits of the almond cake. The food was all being put out on to chipped pottery bowls and laid on the tree bole between the lamps. Tactfully, Beric looked away, but Manasses said, ‘It's only what we'd have had anyhow. We're just eating it later instead of at once.' Beric believed that; they all looked rather hungrily at the food, especially Niger.

The two benches were brought up to the tree bole. Manasses began to pray, quietly. ‘Our Father,' he said, ‘we know we shall have our bread. We ask You for it and we always get it; this evening and at other times. Give us the daily bread of the Spirit. Let us always stay certain of You and of Jesus and of the Kingdom; even if we are separated from one another, let us keep hold on that. Let us not even need the love-feast or the feet-washing to make us certain. Our Father and Jesus: when danger comes, be our strength, be in us, let us feel you strongly. And give us knowledge of the Kingdom tonight.'

Phineas added, ‘Come to us, Jesus, when You are ready. We are ready for You. We are always ready. We are thinking of You and the love-feast You made for Your friends. Messiah, may Your time come soon!'

Some of them sat down on the benches, waiting, but not impatiently. Beric whispered to Lalage, ‘Is that another meaning of the Words—the daily bread of the Spirit?'

‘Yes,' said Lalage. ‘Daily certainty, daily knowledge, living and stirring in us all the time. Lifting our hearts. We ask for that in the prayer, and mostly we get it.'

‘I wish you'd let me have the baptism soon,' he said. ‘I feel ready.'

‘What do you think, Manasses?' she asked, leaning over.

‘He's untried,' said Manasses, ‘it's different with most of us. What do the rest of you think? Argas?'

‘I'm not fit to judge,' Argas said. ‘I quarrelled with him earlier this evening.'

‘Have you forgiven one another?' Manasses asked quickly and very gravely.

‘Yes. We wouldn't have come otherwise. It was my fault mostly. I think I like him too much to know about him.'

Beric was startled and uncomfortable at all this coming out, but nobody seemed to notice much, except Lalage, who said, ‘We all like him. We want him to be one of us. We'll see if the Spirit comes.'

Niger said ruminatively, ‘I can't see just how it feels for a gentleman to want our baptism.'

Then Phaon came running down the twisting steps, his arms full of long loaves. ‘Sorry I'm late!' he said, then, ‘Oh, sorry, Manasses, peace be with you! Here's the bread.'

‘Peace be with you,' said Manasses, taking it. ‘Where's your mother?'

‘Mother said she was frightfully disappointed, but she simply can't come; she's got an order for the relief office for every last loaf she can bake before tomorrow morning!'

‘Well then,' said Manasses, ‘I think we're all here. We won't wait any longer for Sotion; he may have been kept. He seemed a bit upset and queer about something last time, but he wouldn't say. Perhaps he's got something on his conscience and doesn't feel he can ask for forgiveness yet.'

‘He's bound to soon,' Euphemia said. ‘There's nothing like forgiveness, is there!'

Manasses looked round, counted and said to Beric, smiling, ‘Twelve, and you, brother.'

Niger picked up one of the loaves and smelt it. ‘Fresh white bread. There's nothing so good in the world. And some folks eat it every day.'

He put the loaf back on the chopping-block and they all came closer, in a half circle, Beric, shaking with excitement, between Manasses and Lalage; looking at the food, he wondered if it wasn't going to turn suddenly into something strange and other. Manasses said, ‘Let us take this bread and break it, friends.'

‘In the Name of Jesus,' answered Euphemia and Rhodon from the two ends of the half circle, and they, too, picked up a loaf each and all broke the bread and handed it round. Each man or woman had a big piece of bread and something to go
with it from the table, giving one another what seemed best. Manasses gave Niger one of the two whole slices of meat. Leaning over, their hands and fingers met on the food in the light and slight warmth of the three little lamps set amongst it. Beric had his bread dipped in the honey. Then they all sat down, either on the benches or on the floor. Manasses sat on one bench and Beric sat at his feet, beside Lalage. But all were close to one another, in touch. After the first few bites even the hungriest ate slowly; they were quiet, waiting, letting pain and anger and anxiety drop off them. Obviously they had learnt to do this, but Beric was strung up, wondering what would happen next. Lalage put her hand on his. ‘Breathe deep,' she said, ‘watch the lamps, think of the others. We are safe here.'

And after a time Beric felt that too, only he wanted to be completely one of them. Gradually he became filled with a mist of sadness hardened into sharp thoughts of all he had done or not done, of unkindness and injustice and time wasted. For a moment he thought of his mother and Britain and a child's burrow in the bracken among bright hill pansies, in Wales perhaps, and he was ready to cry. He may have moaned a little, because he felt Manasses's hand on his head, once more as it had been that other time in blessing, and then he thought of all the oppressed people, all slaves and prisoners and hurt, all the men and women who were people and might be in the Kingdom, but who were at that moment and always being treated as things by a thing; and his sadness was changed into indignation at this great sin of which he had been a part, but which now he hoped he would never be part in again. As he thought that, he looked away from the lamps, across Lalage to Dapyx and Rhodon on her other side, and on the opposite bench Niger and Josias and Persis, Argas at their feet, Phineas and Euphemia beyond, friendly and trusting—and oh by that vulnerable!—across the low table of the love-feast. Old Sophrosyne behind him dreaming, Phaon next to him with his face lifted up and his lips moving.

Phaon said softly, ‘Oh, I'm so happy.' Manasses and Niger from the two benches each reached out and touched him; his hands fell on their arms and he began to sing,
low, almost wordlessly. For a time he was the focus. Then he stood up, slipping away from the arms of his friends, picked up a lump of chalk, went over to the middle furnace, and with two sweeps of his arm drew a fish across the brickwork. The others turned towards it and murmured the Name words: Jesus Christ, God's Son, Saviour. With a dancing step, Phaon came back to the half circle, joined again in the nearness.

From the far side of the table, Phineas spoke in a low voice. ‘I have sinned against Jesus and the Kingdom. I have not been kind to the widow who is staying with us.' ‘Why not?' Manasses asked. ‘I didn't want anybody else in our home. I let her see it.' Manasses said, ‘You can be kinder now. You will be.' Lalage said, ‘Where there are two together they have to be very careful not to cut themselves and one another off from the Kingdom.' Euphemia said, ‘We understand, don't we, friends?' ‘When you are kind to her, you will know our forgiveness,' Manasses said.

Again there was peace. Beric saw Niger's broad, black hands stroking Argas's cheeks and neck; it was very odd, but he did not feel disturbed at all. He himself leant back, the taste of honey and bread crust in his mouth, his head against Manasses's knee. He used to dislike and distrust Manasses: disliked because distrusted. He remembered Saturnalia last year and the great ragging of the Jewish slaves in which he had joined. Where had Argas and Phaon been in that rag? Probably, he thought, from his present knowledge of them all, Manasses had told them to keep out, not risk either hate and anger or saying something that would give them away; not to help him even though he was the deacon. Manasses would say it did no good for more to be hurt than need be. Queer how much it amused people to hurt others. Most amusements seemed to depend on pain of some kind. He had often been to the Arena with Crispus; now he didn't think he'd ever want to go again. All that, the blood on the sand and everyone yelling for more, and in a small way the ragging of Manasses and Josias and the other Jews, that was an activity of the thing—the rule—that he had been part of: the thing whose weight was on him, that he would lose only at baptism. ‘When
are you going to baptise me?' he whispered again, up to Manasses.

‘Are you so sure, brother?' Manasses asked.

‘Quite sure,' Beric answered.

‘You'll have to fast and pray,' Manasses said. ‘You'll do that, I know. And you'll have questions to answer, from all of us, perhaps.'

‘The Way of Life?'

‘Yes. You know all that. I only wonder if you're as sure as I hope you are. It means finishing with a great many things that mayn't let you go as easily as you think now. That's something that'll be harder for you than if you'd just been a slave. You see, you may have to take action for the sake of the Kingdom. Or refuse to take action, which may be more difficult, and more dangerous, too. You're young.'

‘I'm nearly as old as most of you. Older than you were when you were baptised, Manasses.'

‘Yes, but I'd been through it already. So have most of us. We've known what it is to be without the Kingdom—wanting it, though we didn't know what it was we wanted—for months and years, in pain of our bodies. You only just know.'