Avenger of Blood Read Free

safe anymore—instead of comfortable and familiar, it just seems big and scary.”
    â€œPerhaps your fear is understandable,” he said. “You spent almost a year in a small enclosure—spacious, as far as caves go, but still a very small place.”
    Marcellus leaned backward, bracing his arms on the hard ground for support. “A Scripture passage comes to mind. The twenty-seventh psalm, I believe. ‘The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?’. . . You taught me that psalm, remember?”
    â€œYes, and I remember who taught it to me.” A brief smile flitted across her face, the first he had seen in days. It hinted at the spark of vitality that still smoldered somewhere beneath the surface of her sadness.
    â€œAs a little girl,” Rebecca said, “I never wanted the lamps to be extinguished at night. My father explained that we couldn’t leave them burning because they might start a fire while we were sleeping. He said it was the job of our steward, Servius, to snuff out all the lights—but only after he had checked each room to make sure it was safe and that nothing could harm us. That comforted my fears as long as my father was in the next bedroom. I knew that if I cried, he would hear me.
    â€œBut when I was five, Papa sailed to Rome on business. He was gone for several months, and I got scared again. So Servius included me in his evening ritual while Papa was gone. He would carry me in one arm and a small clay lamp in the other. We would go from room to room, snuffing out the flickering lights of the lampstands one by one, quoting Scripture the entire time. Psalm 27 was one of his favorites. Then he would carry me upstairs to my bedroom, and I would go to sleep saying, ‘The Lord is my light. The Lord is my light.’”
    Rebecca grew quiet again when she finished her story, and Marcellus knew she must miss Servius, who had died on Devil’s Island a few months after being sentenced.
    Marcellus gave her a moment to let the memories fade, then he said, “A few minutes ago you were talking about how you had found your purpose on Devil’s Island. I’m sure there’s a purpose for you here, as well. A ministry God has for you—perhaps something only you can do. But you can’t find what that is if you don’t look beyond yourself, Rebecca.”
    She looked doubtful. “What could God possibly have for me to do?”
    â€œPerhaps the same kind of work your mother did. Peter says she visited the sick and took food and clothing to those who needed it.”
    â€œMother always took care of the less fortunate.”
    â€œPeter also said you used to go with her sometimes and that you were good with people, just like she was. I already know how you took care of John every day for the last year.”
    â€œThe truth is that neither one of us could have survived without you, Marcellus. You’re the one who risked your career, and probably your life, to hide us, bring us food.”
    â€œAll of which simply proves that we need each other. And from what I understand, there are many believers in Ephesus who need help, especially the families of prisoners.”
    â€œHelena has already talked to me about that.”
    Her voice was flat but a glimmer of interest seemed to light up her eyes, and Marcellus pressed the advantage. “Evidently she could use your assistance. According to Jacob, she has the gift of confusion.”
    Rebecca rewarded him with another fleeting smile. “That sounds like Jacob . . . and Helena.” The baby fussed in his sleep, and Rebecca comforted him until he quieted. “But I can’t traipse all over Ephesus with Victor, and he’s too young for me to leave him.”
    Marcellus was ready for this objection, and he had already thought of a solution. “You could leave for a few hours. Agatha is always saying that she’ll watch Victor for you.” Peter had