VOLUMEN II
Multa paucis.
When Avus was a young soldier in Hierusalem, his commanding officer received a request from a centurion in Capharnaum.
"He wishes to know if I can spare any men for administrative purposes," the optio stated. "His own has fallen ill. Ordinarily, I would select a man among our auxiliary forces, but among the few I trust, none are sufficiently educated. I need a man who knows how to read and has excellent skill with numbers."
"Why can he not select a man from among his own soldiers?" Avus queried.
"Too busy keeping the peace, I suppose," the optio replied. "There is a man in Capharnaum who has but to speak two words, and vast crowds appear. Where you have crowds, you have soldiers who have to make sure no riots ensue."
Being an educated man, Avus volunteered for the mission, but only after he was offered coins for his additional duties. For two days, he practically lived on the saddle of his horse, dismounting for only brief moments to purchase food or fill his canteen, sleeping for only a few hours each night when the horse was unable to travel another step.
When he reached the centurion's home, the entire house was already in mourning. No one rushed to offer the visitor food or wash his feet. Slaves mixed herbs in hopes of achieving the entire medicinal effect, but they did not speak as they worked.
"Where can I find such a man?" the centurion asked no one in particular. "Is it his fault he was not born a Roman citizen? If I purchased twenty slaves and recruited the same number of soldiers, would even one be half the man he was?"
He barely acknowledged Avus. The centurion was so distraught that he made no statement of thanks to Avus or his commanding officers for the help he was to receive.
"This servant must be quite the man," Avus remarked.
"He is," the centurion replied. "Educated, honest, hardworking, loyal, diligent, wise beyond his years, respectful of his superiors, merciful to his subordinates…!" After a pause, he added, "He's not just another man who serves me. He is my personal friend."
Avus wished he knew what to say. Never before had he seen a man of such great authority in such a helpless state. Roman law allowed, and even expected, a master to kill his servant who became too ill or injured to work, but the centurion blatantly had no interest in doing so.
From the other room, the servant cried out in anguish. His illness caused severe muscle spasms that left him paralyzed afterwards. The centurion himself took a bowl of water and a cloth into the room, lightly dabbing his servant's brow in a futile effort to ease his physical torment and his troubled mind.
"Do not lose hope, my friend. You will soon be well," he consoled, taking a sterner tone after a brief pause to add, "As your master, I forbid you to die!"
Noting the elaborate decorations of the room, Avus doubted these were truly servants' quarters. No doubt this was the centurion's own room where the dying man fought in vain for his life.
"I'm going to get help," the centurion promised. "I know the other physicians have failed you, but this time I won't return until I find someone who can save your life."
The servant became quiet, his labored breaths becoming shallow.
"We haven't much time. Come."
Avus followed his distressed host to the synagogue where the Jews went to pray.
"I am not allowed inside because I am a Gentile," the centurion stated, "but perhaps I will find a man willing to petition his God for me!"
Almost as soon as he finished speaking, an elderly Jew approached. "Do my eyes deceive me, or is it the man who commissioned the building of our fine synagogue?"
"I am he."
The Jewish man smiled. "I thought so! You're one of the only Romans I've met who cares about our nation!"
Being suddenly stricken by a thought, the centurion managed to return the smile politely. "Please, my friend, I must ask a favor of you now. My servant lies in great pain at the point of death. Go to Iesus Nazarenus. He is a great healer. You are fellow Jews. His reputation will not suffer from speaking with you. Beg on your knees in all humility that my servant's life may be spared."
"For you, I will surely do this, for you are truly deserving."
Although the centurion expressed his sincere thanks, he begged the Jewish elder to go quickly, taking a few of his friends if he thought it best. Greatly assured that his troubles were over, the centurion returned home.
"Rejoice!" he exclaimed jubilantly, taking his servant's hands in his own. "You shall be well within the hour!"
The servant made no reply other than a few raspy breaths.
Suddenly frowning, the centurion turned to Avus. "Make sure they aren't coming to my home! A Jew's reputation would suffer for entering a Gentile's home, but if that Gentile is a Roman centurion, that's even worse. I wouldn't dream of damaging the reputation of any innocent man, let alone one of such greatness! Even without our cultural differences, I would not be worthy of this visitor under my roof!"
"How then will your servant be healed?" Avus queried.
His host considered the matter. "One simple word, and it shall be done. In the army, a man who disobeys his superiors commits a serious offense because by doing so, he has also disobeyed the emperor and Rome itself. I am under the authority of my commanders, just as my soldiers are under me. If I tell a soldier to come or go, or if I tell my slave to do something, I don't need to give the matter another thought, for I know I will be obeyed instantly. Let the command be given, and it shall be obeyed."
Taking a small group of soldiers and slaves with him, Avus started down the road. About halfway to the marketplace, he met what he would later describe as the oddest collection of misfits known to man. A group of Jewish elders stood with about a dozen ragged men, many of whom smelled of dead fish. Behind them, a small crowd was already beginning to gather.
"I have a message for the one called Iesus Nazarenus," Avus began, paraphrasing what his host had told him.
The healing ceremony was quite simple. Having marveled at the centurion's faith, Iesus Nazarenus sent the group home, assuring them of the servant's recovery.
When Avus returned to the centurion's home, the servant was sitting upright in the dining area, finishing what had been a hearty serving of food. His master was on his knees, his lips forming inaudible words, as other members of the household expressed their heartfelt joy for the servant's healing.
"It all happened in a moment," a slave explained. "He was writhing in anguish; then he suddenly took a deep breath, sat up, and asked for food, which he served himself!"
The centurion embraced his servant. "I was so afraid I would lose you!" He scowled. "If you ever frighten me like that again, I'll have you scourged!" He pulled him into another embrace. "Thank Deus you're alive!"
Avus frowned in bewilderment. "Who was that man?"
His host clapped him on the shoulder. "Our Lord and God."
Say much in few words.
