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muscles screamed as he stood. He rolled his shoulders and stretched slowly. Raising his hands in habitual praise, he prayed. “This is a day that You have made, Lord, and I will rejoice in it.” He might not feel like it, but he would do so in obedience. Grudging obedience.
    Dogged, determined, he picked up the pack and followed the sound of retreating voices. He stood in the archway of a large room. Men and women of all ages sat together, enjoying a meal. Silas stayed in the shadowed corridor, studying them. He saw meat on a fine pottery platter, and fruit being passed in a simple, woven basket. Everyone had brought something to share.
    A love feast.
    Silas remembered the gatherings in Jerusalem, the first year after Jesus ascended, the excitement, the joy, the openhanded charity between brothers and sisters.
    Jerusalem! How he longed to go home to those halcyon days.
    But even if he could go back to Judea, he knew nothing would be the same. Persecution had driven the followers of Jesus to other cities and provinces, leaving behind Jewish factions that constantly warred with one another. One day, Rome would make peace for them, with the army, the way Rome always made peace. If only they would listen!
    Jesus had warned of Jerusalem’s destruction. John had told Luke what Jesus said, and Luke had written it all down in the history he was collecting. The good doctor had been hard at work on it during the years Silas had known him, when they both traveled with Paul. A kind man, educated, inquisitive. A gifted physician. Paul would have died several times if not for Luke’s ministrations. And I along with him .
    Had Luke escaped from Rome? Had he gone back to Corinth or Ephesus?
    Timothy’s most recent letter said John was living in Ephesus. Mary, Jesus’ mother, lived with him. Her sons, James and Jude, who became believers when they saw the risen Christ, had joined the apostles on the council in Jerusalem.
    “Silas!”
    Startled from his reverie, Silas saw Epanetus cross the room. “Come. Join us.” Patrobas rose, as did several others.
    Epanetus led Silas to a place of honor. Diana rose and prepared a plate of food for him. She smiled into his eyes when he thanked her. A young man sitting beside her whispered in her ear. “Not now, Curiatus,” she replied.
    Everyone talked at once, until Epanetus laughed and raised his hands. “Quiet, everyone! Give Silas time to eat before we attack him with questions.”
    They talked among themselves again, but Silas felt their glances. He gave silent thanks to God for what was placed before him. Pork, and judging by the quality, from a pig fattened in oak forests. A Roman delicacy, and unclean by Mosaic law. He took some fruit instead. Even now, after years of being freed from the Mosaic law, he had difficulty eating pork.
    Others arrived—a family with several children, a young couple, two older men . . . The room filled. And each wanted to meet him, to clasp his hand.
    Silas felt alone in the midst of them, trapped inside himself, captive to thoughts that buzzed like angry bees. He longed for solitude, and knew how ungrateful it would be to rise and leave them now. And where could he go other than that silent room with its rich surroundings that reminded him of things he had worked so hard to forget?
    Everyone had finished eating, and he lost his appetite. He saw their expectation, felt their hunger to hear him speak.
    The boy spoke first. “You knew the Lord Jesus, didn’t you?” He ignored his mother’s hand on his arm. “Would you tell us about Him?”
    And then the others began. “Tell us everything, Silas.”
    “What was He like?”
    “How did He look?”
    “What did you feel when you were in His presence?”
    “And the apostles? You knew them all, didn’t you? What were they like?” The boy again, all eyes and pleading. “Will you teach us as you’ve taught others?”
    Hadn’t he preached hundreds of times in dozens of towns from Jerusalem to Antioch to