Nicholas wandered about to take in the sights. A man with a stick prodded a pair of white oxen up the street. They were headed for the temple of Apollo where they would be offered in sacrifice. It stood on a hill by itself with great white columns that would make any Greek proud. He couldn’t see the temple from behind the buildings, but he could from above. With a quick glance left and right, Nicholas darted up the side of a building. His hands danced their way across the stone scroll-work as they had many a time. Boys in Patara were often drawn to climb the rooftops, but Nicholas most of all. He loved looking down from the heights.
He could see the temple of Apollo now. Its roof sat like a jeweled crown upon pillars, decorated with brightly painted figures of gods in action. He wondered why Christus would allow his followers to meet in a simple rented hall while those who worshiped a false god met in front of a beautiful stone temple. It didn’t seem right.
From below, his ears caught someone call out “Epiphanius,” the name of his father. Nicholas climbed to a ledge and peered down. He could see the head of his father.
Another man, balding at the top, was approaching him. From his ornamented robe, Nicholas took him to be a government official. Roman officials seemed to have no problem with showing off their riches, and even made a point of it to show how important they were. Traveling with him were a group of lictors serving as his bodyguard. Each lictor held a fasces, a bundle of rods tied around an ax to symbolize his authority to execute judgment.
Epiphanius said, “Silvanus. Congratulations on your new term as proconsul. I trust you still find Patara to your liking.”
Silvanus said, “Very much. The place hasn’t changed much since we were boys. Remember racing up the hill to the temple?”
Epiphanius laughed and said, “Yes, you were always the better runner.”
Silvanus replied, “But you were the better climber.”
Nicholas smiled to think of his father climbing like he was. Epiphanius said, “Perhaps, but I wouldn’t put that to a test today.”
Silvanus said, “Nor would I. Too much sitting in court has left me slow... My friend, I’m glad to have found you here. I’ve been meaning to speak with you.”
Epiphanius said, “Yes. What can I do for you?”
He could see the temple of Apollo now. Its roof sat like a jeweled crown upon pillars, decorated with brightly painted figures of gods in action. He wondered why Christus would allow his followers to meet in a simple rented hall while those who worshiped a false god met in front of a beautiful stone temple. It didn’t seem right.
From below, his ears caught someone call out “Epiphanius,” the name of his father. Nicholas climbed to a ledge and peered down. He could see the head of his father.
Another man, balding at the top, was approaching him. From his ornamented robe, Nicholas took him to be a government official. Roman officials seemed to have no problem with showing off their riches, and even made a point of it to show how important they were. Traveling with him were a group of lictors serving as his bodyguard. Each lictor held a fasces, a bundle of rods tied around an ax to symbolize his authority to execute judgment.
Epiphanius said, “Silvanus. Congratulations on your new term as proconsul. I trust you still find Patara to your liking.”
Silvanus said, “Very much. The place hasn’t changed much since we were boys. Remember racing up the hill to the temple?”
Epiphanius laughed and said, “Yes, you were always the better runner.”
Silvanus replied, “But you were the better climber.”
Nicholas smiled to think of his father climbing like he was. Epiphanius said, “Perhaps, but I wouldn’t put that to a test today.”
Silvanus said, “Nor would I. Too much sitting in court has left me slow... My friend, I’m glad to have found you here. I’ve been meaning to speak with you.”
Epiphanius said, “Yes. What can I do for you?”
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