When Nicholas next came to the hall of magistrates, he arrived early. He did not hang about outside as he had been, but went in and took his seat among the other lawyers. Valerius turned to him and remarked, “Greetings stranger. Have you been ill of late?”
“No,” said Nicholas. “Never better.” He thought of telling Valerius, but Valerius would only try to hush him up and that would be the end of it. He would die without being heard. Instead, he would rather tell a man who might hear him out. That way, someone might receive the truth of Christus. He looked about the hall and could find no man like this. He began to think perhaps he should just declare it to the whole court. Then he saw Silvanus enter and take his seat.
He remembered Silvanus being kind to his father, at least tolerating his worship of Christus. And he seemed to view the gods as little more than a mere tradition. Nicholas thought he might be open to the truth. He took his seat beside him and said, “Your honor, if it pleases, I would like very much to speak with you.”
“Do tell.”
“It might be best if we spoke in private.”
Silvanus grinned. “I’m intrigued. You shall join me for lunch at my house.”
“Thank you.”
Nicholas found the proconsul’s mansion filled with expensive artwork: beautiful mosaic floors, wall paintings and statues of the gods made of marble, silver and gold. Though much of it had to do with the gods, Nicholas tried to find something kind to say. He commented, “I can see you have a great love of the arts. Your home looks much like one of the temples.”
“As it should,” said Silvanus. “Many of these came from temples. Or temple artisans.”
“I don’t understand.”
Silvanus gave him a mischievous smile. “There are great benefits to being proconsul.”
Nicholas thought better than to ask further, yet Silvanus went on, saying, “Sometimes I find the artisan fails to fulfill the terms of the contract, and in such cases, they are usually quite happy to do what they can to make things right.” Now all the bright artwork surrounding him looked dark and tainted. Every last piece of it, Silvanus had likely cheated from someone. He began to see why his father had never mentioned Silvanus when he was younger. But Silvanus was typical of any man gone astray from the truth. He needed Christus like all the others.
As they sat for lunch, Silvanus asked, “What can I do for you? Do you need protection? Some favor?”
“Just that you would hear what I have to say. You’ve been seeking the enemy of the gods, who gives gifts in the name of Christus.”
“Yes.”
“I know him... I know that no law of Rome will stand between him and his worship of Christus. I know he is ready to die because he believes in the resurrection of the dead through Christus.”
Silvanus gave him a puzzled frown.
Nicholas added, “I know, because he is me.”
Silvanus made no reaction. He merely leaned back in his chair. “Why are you telling me this?”
“You knew my father. You knew his faith in Christus, yet you honored him as a friend. I think you can see the gods of Rome are empty. And I think if you heard the good news of Christus, you too might believe.”
“You judged wrong,” said Silvanus. He clapped his hands twice. At once, the lictors came to his side. He ordered, “Take this man to the slave cell where he might cool off.”
“No,” said Nicholas. “Never better.” He thought of telling Valerius, but Valerius would only try to hush him up and that would be the end of it. He would die without being heard. Instead, he would rather tell a man who might hear him out. That way, someone might receive the truth of Christus. He looked about the hall and could find no man like this. He began to think perhaps he should just declare it to the whole court. Then he saw Silvanus enter and take his seat.
He remembered Silvanus being kind to his father, at least tolerating his worship of Christus. And he seemed to view the gods as little more than a mere tradition. Nicholas thought he might be open to the truth. He took his seat beside him and said, “Your honor, if it pleases, I would like very much to speak with you.”
“Do tell.”
“It might be best if we spoke in private.”
Silvanus grinned. “I’m intrigued. You shall join me for lunch at my house.”
“Thank you.”
Nicholas found the proconsul’s mansion filled with expensive artwork: beautiful mosaic floors, wall paintings and statues of the gods made of marble, silver and gold. Though much of it had to do with the gods, Nicholas tried to find something kind to say. He commented, “I can see you have a great love of the arts. Your home looks much like one of the temples.”
“As it should,” said Silvanus. “Many of these came from temples. Or temple artisans.”
“I don’t understand.”
Silvanus gave him a mischievous smile. “There are great benefits to being proconsul.”
Nicholas thought better than to ask further, yet Silvanus went on, saying, “Sometimes I find the artisan fails to fulfill the terms of the contract, and in such cases, they are usually quite happy to do what they can to make things right.” Now all the bright artwork surrounding him looked dark and tainted. Every last piece of it, Silvanus had likely cheated from someone. He began to see why his father had never mentioned Silvanus when he was younger. But Silvanus was typical of any man gone astray from the truth. He needed Christus like all the others.
As they sat for lunch, Silvanus asked, “What can I do for you? Do you need protection? Some favor?”
“Just that you would hear what I have to say. You’ve been seeking the enemy of the gods, who gives gifts in the name of Christus.”
“Yes.”
“I know him... I know that no law of Rome will stand between him and his worship of Christus. I know he is ready to die because he believes in the resurrection of the dead through Christus.”
Silvanus gave him a puzzled frown.
Nicholas added, “I know, because he is me.”
Silvanus made no reaction. He merely leaned back in his chair. “Why are you telling me this?”
“You knew my father. You knew his faith in Christus, yet you honored him as a friend. I think you can see the gods of Rome are empty. And I think if you heard the good news of Christus, you too might believe.”
“You judged wrong,” said Silvanus. He clapped his hands twice. At once, the lictors came to his side. He ordered, “Take this man to the slave cell where he might cool off.”
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