The Write Place

The cool of the night hung in the air under the pale moon.  The sounds of the city had turned to the silence of a night.  In the darkness of the courtyard a pair of figures appeared out of the colonnade. The younger, wrapped in a toga of higher class, followed a more aged woman in plain dress.  The younger woman lingered, hesitant to come out.  The elder woman motioned to her.

“Come come, it is all well.  Do not worry yourself,” she said

“She’s so little,” the younger woman said.  She moved forward with soft, timid steps, uncovering the small bundle in her arms.  The infant started to move.  The little baby was no more than a week old.

“Well, it must be done.  Most people leave one at some point,” the older woman said.  She hid her own hesitancy, choosing instead to encourage the younger woman. “We must follow through.  Your husband said so.”

The younger mother walked out into the courtyard.  Her slow, measured paces betrayed her hesitancy.  

“Come, Augustina, here’s as good a place as any” the elder woman said as she motioned to the side of a column.  Augustina walked over, bouncing the baby as she went. The older woman scowled at the motherly sight. “Don’t get too attached.”

“I know, I know. Another mouth to feed, a dowry.  A cost” Augustina said, holding back the tears in her eyes.  Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.  She laid the infant down by the column, the sound of dogs in the distance filled the air.  “I wish you’d been a boy,” she said,  whispering softly into the child’s ear.”  She rose slowly to her feet.  The older woman touched her on the shoulder and, with a  firm, led her away.  As their figures disappeared back into the colonnade from where they came, the infant lay on the cold ground.  

From the opposite side of the courtyard, another figure inched out of the dark, one slow step at a time.  As it rested upon him, the light of the moon revealed an elderly man in a humble toga.  His bearded face bore a gentle, peaceful wisdom.  He moved out into the courtyard at a gentle trot.  Behind him followed a young woman, likewise in common attire.  Her dark curly hair braided behind her.

“Don’t worry little one, everything is going to be alright,” the elderly man reassured the infant, stooping to pick up the small bundle.  He gently rocked the baby, cooing softly to her to quiet her whimpers.

“What a relief! I was afraid we wouldn’t get here in time.  It would seem all the wealthy use this spot to avoid the cost of a dowry,” the young woman said.

“Yes, they have for a long time.  I have seen it many times before, but don’t worry yourself. They won’t care to come looking for her or us.  The child is off their hands. That, I hate to say, is how it is in the world,” he concluded. “Well, I said I would show you.  You have first rescue out of the way,” he said.  The sound of the dogs grew louder as they closed the distance.  “Sounds like we need to get moving Tifnee.”

“I think so too, Father Polycarp.  They’ll come this way I’m sure”  Tifnee said. She picked up the bottom of her robes, and the two ran back into the dark of the city.

After a short walk the two approached a gated doorway.  The rising sun painted the sky with emerging shades of red and orange as the day was born anew.  Polycarp approached the gate and looked inside.  With a gentle wave through the bars, he caught the attention of a woman who sat a short distance away at the back of the first room.  She rose in recognition to greet the two.
“Another one, Polycarp?” asked the woman.  There was a touch of grey in her hair that shimmered in the torchlight of the room.

“Sad to say, yes Phoebe but also pleased to say she is here now,” Polycarp said as he handed the child into her arms. “Persephone can still nurse another?”

“I’m sure she can.  Raise them close as twins, too” she said with a smile. The three walked through a doorway that opened up to a larger inner room.  The room was filled with people, most wearing togas but with people noticeably different from the rest.  One man stood talking to another, wearing a long white cloak and bearing the mark of the legion.  He spoke to a man of darker skin.  Soon they were joined by two men with blond hair. 

Phoebe stopped halfway through the room and sat down next to a young woman.  Two children played at her feet, with one young infant in her arms.

“Have room for one more?” Phoebe asked.

“I do have two arms, don’t I?  And the others use their own legs now,” Persephone said with a smile. “Welcome little one,” she said as she took the new arrival in her free arm.

“Just a little longer till the service starts.  We are still waiting on a few?” Polycarp asked.

“Yes, Matthias and his family.  They should be coming, no word on anybody missing.”

“I long for the day we don’t have to worry about having to worship God in secret,” Augustina said.

“As do I, but still we will meet. Nothing can get between the King and his people,” Polycarp reassured the young Persephone. “There’s Germanicus.  Perhaps he would like to talk.  There is time before the service for you two to talk,” Polycarp said, pointing to one of the blond men. Augustina tried not to blush as she smiled and began walking over.

“Matchmaker.” Phoebe said.

“It works,” said Persephone.

“Just happy to help the flock find mates,” Polycarp said with a gentle smile. “Well, I will go make sure the scriptures are ready.

“What’s the reading for the day?” Phoebe asked.

“New Testament, the first two paragraphs, which as you know with Paul, is quite lengthy,” Polycarp said amused.  The two women nodded their agreement as Polycarp headed to the front of the building.  From there he surveyed the crowd forming as they took their seats.  With a warmed heart, the aged pastor smiled, ready for worship on the day of rest.