Initiation by Night
Cartimandua hovered around me from the moment I woke until it was time to go to school, and even then she fussed over me, helping me on with my shoes and trying to get me to wear a cloak. Petosiris stood in the doorway watching with an indulgent eye as I submitted to having my shoes done up, refused the cloak and bent my head to have my hair combed. To my astonishment Cartimandua then put one arm around my neck and kissed me on the cheek before dashing back to our room, her face scarlet.
Things were almost as bad on my return. Antiochus opened the door and greeted me as usual.
"Did you have a good day, little lord?"
"Yes, thanks, Antiochus."
I bent to unlace my shoes.
"Everything is well, lord?"
A pair of small hands pushed mine out of the way and deftly undid the leather thongs then helped me ease my feet out of the shoes.
"Thanks, Cartimandua."
"My lord want to eat now or he wait for his parents?"
"I'll wait," I told her. "It wouldn't be polite otherwise." I hesitated, remembering the kiss and feeling an unaccountable shyness. "Will you join me again at the meal?"
"As my lord wishes." Cartimandua glanced up at me, her astonishing blue eyes sparkling with happiness. "Shall I wash my lord's feet?"
I sat on the edge of the bed, dangling my feet in the basin of cool water Cartimandua had in readiness. It felt good to have someone to care for me like this. Petosirus had treated me rather after the Spartan manner, expecting me to wash my own feet and keep my own room tidy. Now I looked round with complacent approval at the neatly made bed, my clothes hanging on pegs in the wall and the vase of flowers on the windowsill. Even the fruit in front of the statue looked clean and fresh222 .
Cartimandua had no sooner left the room to empty the bowl when my mother entered. I rose respectfully and kissed her on the cheek she proffered me.
"What happened yesterday?" she demanded, sitting down on the bed.
"Don't you mean 'What happened today?'" I queried.
"No, I want to know what happened yesterday," she repeated.
"Why, what's wrong?" I couldn't think of anything that happened the previous day to trigger off a parental investigation.
"Oh, nothing's wrong, but your girl's been going around the house singing like a lark all day long."
"I suppose she's happy," I defended Cartimandua. "She hasn't been annoying you, has she?"
"Oh, no." My mother shook her head. "Quite the opposite. Compared with how miserable she has been the last few days this sudden happiness is a welcome change. I just hope she hasn't decided to run away. People often do that, you know. Become all happy when they make up their minds to something."
"I don't think so." I spoke hesitantly. "You see, this morning she kissed me, the first time she's ever done that of her own free will."
"Arxes! That's lovely! Tell me all about it."
Face blushing, I described the scene in the hall. Just as I finished Cartimandua returned and paused in the doorway, unsure whether to come in while my mother was in the room. Mother looked up and held out her hand.
"Cartimandua, dear, come in. We were just talking about you. You haven't been very happy the last few days, have you?"
Cartimandua's eyes flickered nervously between my mother and me. "No, lady," she agreed.
"Yet today you've been singing like a little bird."
"Yes, lady."
"What has made the difference, dear?"
"Please, lady, today I happy. I not sing any more."
"No, no," my mother protested. "Sing all you want. You've got a sweet little voice. I just want to know why you are happy."
"I don't know lady. I think - I think it is because I pray to the Christos. He is make me happy."
"Oh?" My mother's eyebrows raised. "Is that one of your gods, dear? Do you need to offer him a sacrifice or something?"
"Er no," I interrupted. "The Christos, mother. You remember, Alexander the Jew came round to tell us about him."
"Oh, the Christos. Sorry, dear, I didn't understand your accent." Mother turned to me. "What's your girl doing praying to the Jews' Christos, Arxes?"
"It was last night," I told her. "Paul was the guest of honour at the symposium and he told us all about the Christos. Cartimandua must have overheard him."
"I hear him, lady." Cartimandua nodded eagerly. "He speak my language like in my home."
"He talked your language? Arxes, is this true? How did everyone else understand him?"
"I don't know, mother. As far as I am concerned he spoke in perfect Greek - he comes from Tarsus, you know - but Cartimandua insisted on talking to him afterwards and claimed that he spoke in her language."
"He say to me I can be free, lady, that is why I happy."
Mother stiffened. "Arxes! What sort of talk is this? Don't you have more sense than to let your slave listen to talk about freedom?"
"No, lady!" Cartimandua dropped to her knees beside mother and put one hand on mother's lap. "I slave. He say to me I must obey my lord, so I do this."
I made haste to back her up and still my mother's fears. "He was talking about some sort of freedom of the soul, mother. It's true, he did tell her that she must be obedient to me."
"Well, I don't know." Mother sounded uncertain. "We'd better talk about this to your father."
At supper too, Cartimandua seemed like a different girl. She sat on the end of my couch, jumping up and down to pass me things, but feeding herself with considerable gusto in between. Now when she glanced at me she smiled and once she even spoke up in response to something my mother said about Gaul, telling a rather long-winded story about an argument her mother had had with a travelling merchant. When she finally fell silent I grabbed my chance to speak.
"Something unusual happened last night," I remarked to the room at large.
"What was that?" My father looked up from his plate while his fingers continued to shape the bread around the next mouthful of meat and gravy.
"You know Athenodorus, our teacher? Several times now he has taken us down to visit a Jewish philosopher who has come all the way from Judea."
"So what's unusual?" my father joked. "That it should be a Jewish philosopher, or that Athenodorus should take you to see him?"
I grinned back at him. Athenodorus' vanity was well known. "Neither, actually. What was unusual was that this philosopher has persuaded Athenodorus to accept his teaching and to be initiated into his mystery."
"A new mystery?" My mother sounded interested. "Is it for men only or can women join?"
"Anyone can join," I assured her. "It's open to all."
"Is this that fellow your friend was telling us about the other night?" my father queried.
"Yes. His name is Paul and he teaches about the Christos."
"And Athenodorus joined his mystery?"
I nodded. "Yes. He's going to be initiated tonight."
"Well, I suppose that answers the question of whether it is a treasonable conspiracy. I can't see Athenodorus putting his neck at risk where the government is concerned."
"Oh, it's nothing to do with government," I assured him. "It's all to do with being resurrected after you are dead and living for ever."
"Resurrection?" My father looked startled. "And Athenodorus believes it? What sort of philosophy is this?"
"You ought to hear this man, Paul, for yourself," I told him. "I'm sure he'd be willing to come and teach us."
"Have you already asked him?" My father glanced at me sharply.
"Oh, no. But I'm sure he'd come."
"Well, we'll see."
"What I did ask, was whether I could watch my teacher's initiation."
"But you are not an initiate," my father protested.
"I know, but these Christians do nothing in secret. Anyone may witness their ceremonies or listen to their teachings."
My father shrugged. "Fine. I don't suppose there can be any harm in it. I respect Athenodorus. Take a torchbearer."
When the meal was over I sent Antiochus to organise a torchbearer and then went into my room to fetch my cloak. Cartimandua was sitting on the bed and looked up eagerly as I entered.
"My lord, please, may I come too?"
"Eh?"
Cartimandua looked down at her feet. "Please, lord. I like hearing Paul again. I like learn about the Christos."
I grinned at her. "What have you to do with philosophers223 , girl?"
"Please, lord, my own gods not hear me. I pray to them, I not do wrong things, but my mother and my father are die and I am slave. Now I think the Christos is hear me."
"But you must have offended them," I pointed out. "Otherwise you woudn't be a slave." A thought struck me. "Do you mind being my slave? I'm - er - I'm sorry about wiping my fingers in your hair."
"No, lord. You very kind, but still, I like have hope."
I stood still, struck dumb with astonishment. Those were the very words that Athenodorus had spoken. Strange that a woman and a philosopher should think alike.
"Ok, come on. Get that cloak my mother gave you."
Father glowered when I told them that I was taking Cartimandua with me.
"Don't forget how much she cost," he grumbled. "Don't let her get away in the darkness."
"I won't," I promised. "I'll keep a tight hold on her."
And to demonstrate I put my arm around her waist and pulled her against me. It felt so good that I held her like that all through the darker streets until we reached the brighter lights in the agora.
The awning had been taken down when I reached the patch of wasteland but an oil lamp was flickering in the tent and when my torchbearer left the road and headed towards the tent Aquilla came out to see who was coming. I called out to him and when he realised who I was he welcomed us in. Paul and Priscilla were sitting on stools eating a simple meal.
"Come in, young man."
Priscilla put down her plate and stood up as I entered but when she saw Cartimandua she went over to her and greeted her like an equal. I suppose mother's old cloak disgused the fact that she was a slave.
"Your teacher hasn't come yet," Paul told me. "I'm sure he won't be too long."
The sound of voices and footsteps picking a way over the waste ground heralded more visitors. At first I thought it was Athenodorus, though I didn't hear his voice and anyway, he would be sure to have a torchbearer. The steps approached the tent and halted just outside the door flap.
"Hello?" a voice called. "We are looking for Paul from Tarsus."
"Silas!" Paul leaped to his feet and rushed towards the doorway. "Is Timothy there too?"
"We're both here," the voice answered as Paul fumbled with the fastenings. "We got your message and came immediately."
A moment later Paul had thrown back the flap and was embracing a man of his own age. Behind him I could see the face of a younger man, one almost my own age. Paul released Silas and threw his arms round the youth.
"Come in! Come in, both of you. Let me introduce Aquilla and Priscilla, Christians from Rome, who have taken me in." He turned to us. "These are my fellow-workers who came with me from Antioch and Asia. I left them in Berea to finish off the work I began there. Priscilla, is there any food left?"
"It's ok," Silas protested. "We ate something in town while we were trying to find where you were." He looked across at Cartimandua and me. "Who are these others?"
Paul followed his gaze. "This is a young man who has listened to my preaching a couple of times. The girl is his wife."
"Peace be with you," Silas nodded courteously.
"Greetings," I replied. I debated with myself whether to point out that Cartimandua was my slave, not my wife, but it didn't seem appropriate.
"Silas," Paul said as soon as everyone was seated, "you come very opportunely. There is a respectable philosopher in this town who has asked to be baptised and we have appointed tonight for the ceremony. Now you know that God has called me to preach the good news rather than to baptise. I've had to baptise a couple of people but now that you've arrived would you be willing to baptise this man?"
"Sure," Silas replied. "It will be a pleasure. A philosopher?"
"I know what you're thinking," Paul returned. "No, this man seems different. He has studied Judaism, he knows the way to live and he is willing to accept the resurrection - which is more than those experts in Athens were willing to do."
"Sir," I spoke up. "Why will you not baptise my teacher?"
Paul shook his head slightly. "I fear that people may regard themselves as my followers rather than as followers of the Christos. I am only a messenger and not at all important. Wherever possible I get others to baptise for me so that men may realise that Paul is nothing but the Christos is everything."
The flicker of another torch warned us of the approach of Athenodorus, who, as I expected, came with his slaves - one of whom held a torch - as an escort. The man without the torch was carrying an amphora of wine on his shoulder and a clean robe over his arm. We all stood to welcome the philosopher and I beckoned Cartimandua to come and stand beside me. I slid my arm around her waist and Priscilla caught my eye and smiled broadly.
Paul introduced Timothy and Silas and as soon as they had finished eating we set out along the road to Lecheae, the two torchbearers at the front and Paul and Athenodorus next. Priscilla came up and walked beside me.
"I didn't know you were married," she said. "I thought this was your sister, despite the colour of her hair."
"Oh, she's not my wife," I told her. "She's my slave. Father bought her for me when I was initiated into the mystery of Bacchus."
"Oh, I see." Was I imagining it or did her voice sound a shade less friendly. "Well, it's nice to see that you two get on together."
Priscilla turned the conversation to other topics and almost before I knew it, we had passed through Lecheae and come out on the shore near the diolkos. We clustered around Paul and Athenodorus as the philosopher shed his robe and stood naked224 in the torchlight. Silas, who had also stripped, took his hand and the two men waded out into the water. When they were about waist-deep Silas halted and turned to face Athenodorus. He raised one hand, as if pronouncing a blessing.
"Athenodorus, you have declared your willingness to believe in God's Christos, Jesus of Nazareth. I therefore baptise you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit so that your sins may be forgiven."
He took hold of the philosopher and gently pushed him beneath the water225, then helped him up again. Silas led the way out of the sea to where Paul was waiting. As soon as Athenodorus reached the shore Paul spoke.
"Kneel down and I will lay my hands on you, that you may receive the Holy Spirit of God."
Athenodorus knelt down a little stiffly and Paul placed both his hands on the old man's nearly bald head.
"By the authority of Jesus the Christos, receive God's Holy Spirit, the pledge God has given to assure you of your salvation."
In the torchlight I could see Athenodorus' face quite clearly. As Paul said these words my teacher began to smile and a wonderful look of peace came over his features.
"They're gone!" he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. "They're gone! All my sins are gone. Praise to the Christos!"
He embraced Paul and then turned and put his arms around Silas. A moment later he loosed Silas and then stepped over and embraced Aquilla as well. I was a little disappointed. There was nothing dramatic such as happened when I was initiated into the mystery of Bacchus, no dancing, no divine frenzy. This Christian mystery was a very tame affair. Athenodorus put his arms about Priscilla and I noticed for the first time that he was crying, even while he was praising and thanking the Christos. Then to my surprise Athenodorus turned to me and put his arms about me as well.
"Arxes, let me embrace you too. This is the most wonderful moment in my whole life. I can't explain it, but this philosophy has power that I have not found in any other philosophy. It's wonderful! My sins are gone! I'm clean!"
I was a little indignant when he next embraced Cartimandua, but I calmed myself by remembering that Aquilla had not objected when the old man embraced his wife - and Cartimandua was only a slave. I still had my arm about her waist and was only half listening to what he said to her when Cartimandua suddenly stiffened. I turned to look at her and at the same moment realised that Athenodorus was speaking to her in some language I couldn't understand.
"What did he say?" I demanded, hardly aware that Athenodorus was now embracing the slaves, including my torchbearer.
Cartimandua turned to me, her face shining.
"My lord, he told me that he is very happy and he give thanks to the Christos."
"Yes, but what language was he speaking?" I felt I knew the answer before Cartimandua replied.
"He speak in my language, my lord. Just like in my country."
I felt stunned. This time I had actually heard the foreign words, yet I was pretty sure that Athenodorus didn't know any barbarian language apart from a bit of Latin.
"I didn't know you spoke Gaulish, sir," I said as we walked back to the tent.
Athenodorus, resplendent in his clean robe, beamed at me.
"Silly boy. I don't know a word of any language except Greek - and if I do I try to forget it as soon as possible."
"That's what I thought," I nodded. "But my slavegirl says that you spoke to her in her own language."
Athenodorus looked past me to Cartimandua and shook his head. "No, my dear, I clearly remember. I spoke to you in Greek. I don't know a word of Gaulish."
Cartimandua leaned forward and looked directly at my teacher. "Please, sir, I not lie. You speak to me in my own language. Just like my father speak."
"Come, girl, you are mistaken. I don't know your language."
I felt a shiver run up my spine. This was power indeed; not nonsensical ravings as in the mystery of Bacchus, but the ability to speak in a real language. I glanced sideways at my slavegirl with a feeling akin to awe.
"Something like this happened last night," I told Athenodorus. "After we left your house Cartimandua spoke to Paul. She said that he had been talking about the Christos in her language. Paul explained that this was one of the gifts of the Christos."
"That's right." Paul came up behind us. "The Christos gave this gift of languages to His disciples the first time the message about His salvation was preached, so that people in the audience heard the good news in their own languages."
"Can anyone have these gifts, sir?" I asked Paul.
"These gifts are for all," Paul said, "but it is God Who chooses which gift you should have, for they are given for His glory, not yours. There are gifts of preaching, teaching, prophecy, healing, discerning evil spirits and many others." He turned to Cartimandua. "Daughter, I think you are happier today. Did you pray to the Christos?"
"Yes, sir." Cartimandua's face was suddenly radiant. "He make me happy today."
"And you?" Paul laid his hand on my shoulder. "Are you ready to accept God's Christos?"
"I don't know what to think, sir." I hesitated. "At first I didn't believe in this resurrection, but if my teacher can accept it, I suppose it must be true. Would you be willing to come and explain it all to my father? His name is Lycurgus; he has the cloth shop in the main agora."
"I will gladly come and preach to your household," Paul said. "There is but one condition: you must have your whole household there, for the good news about the Christos is for all, slave or free, barbarian or Greek, male or female. If your father is willing to agree to that, then I will come."
A moment later we left the road and crossed to the tent. Athenodorus insisted that all the slaves come in too, so we were rather cramped as we sat around on stools or on the ground. His slave produced a dozen clay cups and opened the amphora of wine and Priscilla showed us where the water was, so that we all had a cup of mixed wine. Priscilla rummaged in a goatskin bag hanging from one of the tent-poles and produced a loaf of wheat bread which she handed to Paul.
"Wine on an empty stomach is not good," she told us.
"And it is most fitting that we should have bread and wine after a baptism," Paul remarked, breaking the bread and handing pieces to all of us, including the slaves. Before we ate, however, he had something else to say. "Everything that Christians do is open for all to view, but it is not fitting that those who are not initiated should take part in the mystery of bread and wine. Silas and Timothy, Aquilla, Priscilla and now Athenodorus are initiates and to them I will give the bread of life."
"Is it ill-luck if we watch, lord?" one of Athenodorus' slaves asked.
"No," Paul replied, "provided that you show reverence before these mysteries."
Priscilla pulled her shawl up over her head and Cartimandua copied her action. Paul balanced the loaf on his knee and then raised both hands.
"I have received this from the Lord, that on the same night in which He was betrayed the Lord Jesus took bread and when He had given thanks He broke it and gave it to His disciples, saying, 'Take, eat. This is My body which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of Me.'"
Paul broke off more pieces of the bread and handed them to the five initiates, who took and ate them with solemn faces. The rest of us eyed each other and then, very carefully, ate our unblessed bread. My torchbearer must have swallowed a crumb the wrong way and there was a heart-stopping moment as he choked and coughed when I thought that the Christos was taking divine vengeance on him for some impious deed or thought.
Paul picked up the amphora and carefully poured a small quantity of unmixed wine into his own cup and those of the initiates. Priscilla handed him the water and he added a generous quantity of water to each cup226. He propped the amphora upright in its ring227 and raised one hand over his cup.
"With thanks also He took the cup after he had eaten, saying, 'This cup symbolises the new agreement which is sealed by My blood. Do this as often as you drink wine, in remembrance of Me.'"
All six drank their wine and after a cautious pause the rest of us sipped at our cups, knowing that we were excluded from a great and holy mystery, even though we had eaten the same bread and drunk the same wine. Paul raised both hands in a gesture of blessing.
"For whenever you eat bread and drink wine like this, you re-enact the Lord's death - till He come."
After this there was lots of happy conversation and laughter and you could feel a real peace emanating from the five initiates and their master. Yet despite the happiness there was no drunkenness and nothing indecent. It made a real contrast with the revelry following my initiation into the mystery of Bacchus. We must have been there for several hours. Cartimandua, her head pillowed on my shoulder, had yawned twice when finally Athenodorus rose to his feet and bowed to Paul.
"Sir, I thank you for bringing me this news about the Christos, of whom I hope to learn more from you. I thank you for initiating me into His mystery and I beg you to accept the remains of this amphora: it's not Chian228, but it's still a good vintage."
Paul shook his head. "There is no charge for initiation, Athenodorus."
"No," my teacher insisted, "but a man may show his gratitude. I further wish to show my thanks to the all-Highest God and I therefore declare that these two slaves of mine are free men. I will make out their certificates of manumission in the morning. It is my wish that they too shall accept initiation into the mystery of Christos but that is for them to decide."
"Lord," the man with the torch spoke up, "I have served you all my life. I wish to continue in your service."
Athenodorus smiled at him. "But it shall be as a free man, Getas, and I will value your friendship. What about you, Daos?"
The other man shook his head. "I thank you, lord, but I wish to return to my own land. I must still have relatives in Thessaly who will not begrudge me my own."
"Well, you shall not go unprovided," Athenodorus told him. "I'm not rich, as you two well know, but I can at least give you something for your journey."
Not long afterwards the party broke up and we returned to our homes, Athenodorus accompanied by his two newly freed men and I with my torchbearer and Cartimandua. I lay awake for a long time after I went to bed and I think that Cartimandua did too. We had a lot to think about.
222 Pliny, in his Natural History XV.x, remarks: "Grafting the ordinary quince on the sparrow-apple has produced a special kind, the Mulvian quince, which is the only one of the quinces that is eaten even raw; these at the present day are kept shut up in gentlemen's reception rooms and are placed on the statues that share our nights with us." Presumably the scent was both strong and pleasing. Return
223 Actually, ancient Greece wasn't as sexist as you might think. After a girl acrobat performed in Xenophon's Symposium, Socrates remarked, "It is evident from this girl's display, gentlemen, as well as on many other grounds, that women have no less natural ability than men; they only lack judgement and physical strength. So any one of you who has a wife can teach her with confidence any skill that he would like her to acquire and practise." (p. 232) In The Estate Manager the expert, Ischomachus, describes his wife: "She wasn't yet fifteen years old when she came to me and in her life up till then considerable care had been taken that she should see and hear and discover as little as possible." (p. 311) He then describes how he trained the girl and how quickly she learned, and ascribes much of his wealth to her ability. On this, Socrates exclaimed "Good heavens, Ischomachus! On your evidence, your wife has a mind as good as a man's!" (p. 324) Return
224 Candidates for baptism were always naked in the first few centuries of Christianity. In the first place nudity was much more common in the ancient world - gymnasts, athletes and slaves working in the fields found clothing an encumbrance. Secondly, this was part of the Jewish heritage in baptism, which comes from the ritual of the mikveh bath: there must be nothing between the body and the cleansing water. Orthodox women to this day pick off any scabs that may be on their bodies and strict ones even go to the dentist and have their fillings removed as well! Return
225 Baptism by immersion was the common practice: this is shown by the word itself, by the Scriptural testimony that both celebrant and candidate went into the water, by the Jewish ritual and by the remains of early fonts that have been discovered in north Africa and the Middle East. The Didache or The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles VII.i-iii which at the latest was written early in the second century, tells us: "Concerning baptism, baptise thus: Having first rehearsed all these things, baptise in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit in running water, but if there is no running water, baptise in other water, and if you cannot find cold, then in warm. But if you have neither, then pour water three times on the head in the Name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit." The reference to warm water refers to the baths. The emphasis on running water also comes from Judaism. Return
226 According to the Babylonian Talmud, tractate Berakoth, "The Sages agree with Rabbi Eliezer in the matter of the cup of wine used for grace, that a blessing should not be said over it until water has been added. What is the reason? Rabbi Oshaiah said: For a religious ceremony we require the best." It is interesting that Rabbi Oshaiah should call mixed wine "the best" and may throw some light upon the comment made in Cana, "You have kept the best until last." Return
227 Amphorae had pointed ends - probably because it made them easier to handle and to transport - so they could not be simply set down on the floor. Wooden or pottery rings with three legs held the bottom of the amphora so that it could be stood upright. Pausanias, in his Guide to Greece X.xvi, tells of one such holder that was dedicated at Delphi: "Nothing was left at all of the dedications sent by the kings of Lydia, except the iron stand from Alyattes' wine-holder. This is by Glaukos of Chios, the inventor of iron welding. Each iron element of the stand is fitted onto the next, not by pins or nails of any kind, but the iron itself is what connects and binds the iron. The shape of this stand is like a tower rising from a broad base and tapering upwards; its sides are not solid but go in bands of iron like the steps of a ladder and the uprights turn outwards at the top to make a seat for the wine-holder." Return
228 The best Greek wine was Chian, followed closely by Thasian. Return
