Devil's Island Read Free Page B

who dares to call himself Lord and God.”
    â€œAnd how will the people hear the truth if the preacher gets himself thrown in jail—or killed?”
    Elizabeth gasped involuntarily at Abraham’s words. She had not heard her husband talk like this before, and it troubled her. His opposition to Jacob’s calling to be a preacher had stemmed from his disappointment that his son would not follow him into the business world—or so she had thought. Perhaps Abraham had been more worried for their son’s safety than he had let on.
    â€œWe have enjoyed a great deal of toleration,” Abraham continued more calmly, “but the political climate is changing. Drastically.” He picked up the cup of mulsum and sipped slowly, his glance saying to Elizabeth, I’ll tell you about it later .
    â€œAll I’m saying is, don’t go looking for trouble, son; it will find you easily enough. Preach the truth, but be judicious about it.”
    Abraham turned and looked at his son for so long that Jacob finally asked, “Do you think something terrible is about to happen, Father? Something ‘cataclysmic’?”
    â€œMy prophetic ability is limited to business forecasts.” Abraham smiled wanly. “I’ll leave spiritual prophecy to the Apostle.”
    Everyone fell silent; the mood had turned somber. “You should have told me John was sick,” Elizabeth said after a long moment. “I would have sent food, and someone to look after him.”
    â€œHe’s not sick, Mother. Just old and stiff. Still as feisty as ever, but getting rather feeble.” Jacob turned to face Abraham. “I will heed your advice, Father,” he said deliberately. “I cannot promise to stop preaching, but I will promise to be more careful.”
    Abraham nodded. “Good enough.” His voice had become husky with emotion and he cleared his throat. “You mentioned something about hiring a carriage so John could go on this trip.”
    Jacob’s rugged features became instantly animated. “I figured all your wagons would be in service now, making deliveries. But I thought perhaps we could use your personal coach, or maybe you could arrange to hire a carriage for us.”
    â€œI can do better than that. Take the Mercury and sail for Smyrna or Pergamum, then hire a carriage to take John wherever he wants to go.”
    Jacob sat straight up and gave a jubilant whoop. Naomi’s mouth flew open. “The Mercury ?” She stared at her father for a moment, then turned to her brother. “How long will you be gone?” she asked, her voice frigid.
    â€œWhat does it matter to you?” Jacob replied.
    â€œI realize sending Jacob in my private cutter spoils your scheme of wheedling me into a trip to Rome,” Abraham said to Naomi. “We’ll talk about that later. For now”—he pointed at Jacob—“I want you to leave and tell John as soon as we finish dinner. I’ll alert the captain and crew. Make whatever preparations you need, but be at the harbor ready to cast off by daybreak. I’ll meet you there to see you off.”
    â€œDaybreak? Why the urgency?” Elizabeth swallowed hard. She was satisfied with Abraham’s change of heart toward Jacob’s ministry but wary of its suddenness. Now she had a premonition of disaster.
    â€œJohn himself expressed the urgency,” Abraham said, “and the Mercury is stocked and ready to sail. There’s no need for delay.” His tone of voice left no room for argument.
    After dinner Naomi strolled along the colonnade of the large open peristyle adjoining their villa. Peeved that her father was sending Jacob on some fool’s errand to Smyrna when she’d had plans to use their private ship, Naomi thought a walk would be soothing. She loved the peristyle with its spacious, meticulously tended garden and fountains. That is, she liked it now, when it was quiet and