The Divine Parousia
Athenodorus called for his two slaves to escort Paul back to his dwelling. Cartimandua came out of the kitchen behind them and walked right past me as if I weren't there.
"Cartimandua!" I spoke sharply, my fear that she would escape out the door suddenly very much alive. She half-turned and looked at me, a strange wild expression on her face. "Where are you going?"
"Lord, I must speak with this man." She half turned towards the door through which Paul and his escort had just gone.
"Oh no you don't!" I sprang forward and grabbed her wrist. "You stay here with me."
For a moment I felt her muscles tense, as though she was going to try and pull her hand out of my grasp and then she relaxed and turned to face me fully.
"Please, lord. I must speak with this man. Please! Please!"
Her voice rose in desperate entreaty and at the same time two tears spilled out of her blue eyes and rolled down her cheeks. I stared at her for a moment and then turned to Athenodorus.
"Sir, please excuse me."
"That's all right, Arxes. You go on your way. Many thanks for the help you have given. I'll see that the others pack up and follow you as soon as possible."
As soon as I started to move Cartimandua began to run, dragging me after her down the stairs at breakneck speed. By the time we came out of the door Paul and the slaves were right down at the end of the street, the flickering torch just about to disappear round the corner.
"Quickly, lord. Oh please! Quickly!"
We dashed down the street, Cartimandua towing me like a runaway horse. Ahead of us I heard a startled exclamation and saw the two slaves step in front of Paul to protect him from what sounded like an assault by robbers. A moment later the torchlight must have caught Cartimandua's hair and they relaxed.
"Is something wrong?" Paul asked, stepping forward.
Cartimandua answered him, a long burst of sound that was, I guessed, her own barbarian language. Needless to say, I couldn't understand a word of it and neither, to judge by the expression on his face, could Paul.
"I'm sorry." He sounded truly regretful. "I don't understand you, my dear. Does she speak Greek?" he asked me.
Cartimandua stared at him, her mouth open, and then her head slowly drooped. She put her free hand over her face and began to sob as if her heart would break.
"My dear!" Paul looked as helpless as we men always do when a woman is crying. "What is the matter?"
"Why you lie to me?" Cartimandua's voice was half muffled by her hand and the great hiccupping sobs that shook her whole body. "Why you lie? You speak my language. I hear you. You speak about the Christos, how he is kill and come to living again. You speak all this in my language."
I grabbed her shoulder and shook her roughly. "Stop talking nonsense, Cartimandua. Paul spoke Greek and nothing but. I'm sorry about this, sir. She's a girl and must be out of her mind. I haven't had her long and I had no idea she could behave like this. I'll get her to a doctor first thing in the morning. I . . ." I was babbling in my embarrassment.
To my relief Paul didn't seem at all put out by Cartimandua's foolishness. He shook his head at me.
"No, I don't think she needs a doctor. You see, when the Christos ascended back to heaven He gave gifts to men to enable us to do His work, gifts like teaching, preaching or prophesying. One of those gifts is the ability to speak in different languages and I thank God that I have this gift and speak in more languages than anyone else. It is entirely possible that what you heard in Greek, this girl heard in her own language."
"But - but -" I stammered.
Paul ignored me. He reached out both hands and placed them on Cartimandua's head.
"God of light, Father of Jesus the Christos, fill this girl with Your compassion and kindness220, comfort her with Your Holy Spirit and open her mind to Your truth."
As he spoke a certain something seemed to fill the air, an intangible presence, as if a god had come down to manifest221 himself among us. I let go of Cartimandua's hand as if it burned me and stepped back hastily and I noticed that the two slaves did the same at almost the same moment. In great awe I watched as Cartimandua sank slowly to her knees in front of Paul.
"Sir, I am so unhappy. I long to go home to my own country. Please help me."
I gasped. Her Greek was faultless, even her accent was gone.
"You are a slave," Paul spoke in a soft, gentle voice, "If your owner frees you then you may accept his gift, but don't let your state trouble you. The Christos makes you free in a way that goes beyond your physical situation, a freedom that no one can take away from you."
"Must I obey my master in everything?"
"Yes," Paul nodded his head. "And not just while he is watching you, but from the heart, in sincerity. Obey him as you would obey the Christos, serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord, not a mere man."
"But what if he is cruel to me? What if he beats me?"
Paul sighed. "Still you must submit to him with all respect. The Christos suffered even though he was innocent and if you also suffer when you are innocent you are doing no more than follow in His steps. He will give you strength to bear anything if only you will trust in Him. Pray to Him. I know that He answers prayers."
Paul stooped, took Cartimandua's hands and lifted her gently to her feet.
"Daughter, will you accept the Christos and worship Him alone?"
"Yes," Cartimandua breathed. "Yes. Until I die."
"And you, young man," Paul turned to me. "You have a duty to treat this girl with Compassion, not just with Lust. The Christos will give you the true goodness you seek if you will worship Him."
"Yes, sir." I drew a deep breath and looked about me at the deserted street and the wide-eyed slaves. "Sir, you have openly told us mysteries. Are you equally open about performing them?"
"What do you have in mind?"
"May I witness the initiation of my teacher, even though I am not an initiate in your mystery?"
Paul threw back his head and laughed.
"Of course you may, young man. The Christos Himself was baptised in front of a crowd. Come along tomorrow and welcome."
He turned and walked around the corner. There was complete silence and then the two slaves gave a start and dashed after him, leaving Cartimandua and me alone in the street.
"Shall we go?" I asked quietly. I still didn't dare to touch my girl.
Cartimandua reached out and as her tiny, cool hand slipped into mine I felt a shiver run up my spine.
"You hear him, lord? You hear him? He speak to me my language again."
I said nothing. They had both been speaking the purest Greek but I wasn't about to contradict this girl on whom a god had come down.
"He say I must obey you, my lord, so I am good girl now - and I am happy."
We walked back to Athenodorus' house and as we approached the door my torchbearer came out, followed by the cook's assistant and the women, all loaded down with the pots and pans they had taken from our house.
"Let's go," I said and turned to follow the torchbearer, but not before I had seen one of the women nudge the other and nod towards us. Hand in hand Cartimandua and I walked home.
220 The Greek word usually translated "grace" can usually be better rendered "kindness" in our modern language. The trouble is that "grace" has dropped out of common usage to become religious jargon. Return
221 The Greek word parousia, often misunderstood by the Jehovah's Witnesses to mean "invisible presence" had, by New Testament times, come to mean something entirely different. According to Dr Barclay's New Testament Words, "In the papyrii and in Hellenistic Greek, parousia is the technical word for the arrival of an emperor, a king, a governor or famous person into a town or province. . . . One of the commonest things is that provinces dated a new era from the parousia of the emperor. . . . Lastly, parousia is used of the visitation of a god." (p. 223) It is probably in this sense that Peter uses the word when he says "We did not make known unto you cunningly devised fables, but were eyewitnesses of His parousia." Return
