Unafraid

A story I wrote for a Creative Writing project featuring women of faith

The guards stood strong and immovable in the courtyard, their red capes whipping in the night air like blood. No light shone through those hard eyes. They watched Priscilla closely. She was a mouse under their gaze; a mouse hunted by an owl waiting for one wrong move. Then the talons would close in and all would be lost.

“Can you swear to us that no fanatics have been harboring here?”

She licked her lips. She could not- would not- deny her faith. No, never. But she could not betray the dear souls now huddling with their children in the cellars behind the wine casks. “No, sirs,” she answered carefully. Oh, how she wished Aquila were here, a sturdy tower at her right side to keep her strong. “Never a fanatic has entered these doors that I’m aware of.”

She would not lie, but she would not back down. Again, her heart ached for her husband who was away on a mission for the apostles. Perhaps he would return any minute and persuade the soldiers to leave with bold and friendly words.

Oh Father in Heaven, save us.

“As you can see, there is no one save myself and the servants here,” she said, gesturing around the courtyard. Her eyes fought to stay away from the trapdoor leading to the cellars, staying on the soldiers’ shining armor and naked blades instead.

“I believe we’ll just see about that,” the elder soldier said sharply. He made a motion with his hand and immediately the other five men scattered across the courtyard. One entered the kitchen. Priscilla heard crashing, and she briefly shut her eyes.

A young soldier began to move towards the stairs, only to be stopped by the commander. “What’s that there?” the commander asked Priscilla. His chin jerked towards the trapdoor.

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on us. Her hands quavered but her voice was strong. “It is but the entrance to our cellar and my husband’s wine. We have a large vineyard, and-”

“Yes, yes, I’m aware of that.” He nodded to the young soldier. “You search down there. I will take the upper levels.”

Heart thundering, Priscilla rushed forwards and knelt by the trapdoor. “Allow me to escort you. It is dark down there.” Her hand’s fumbled with the latch before it finally opened.

“Move aside,” grunted the soldier. He flipped open the door. It creaked on heavy hinges before revealing the darkness beneath. A rich, fruity scent wafted up from the rows of casks. Priscilla thought she caught hints of sweat and tears, but she knew it was her nervous imagination waiting for the worst.

Oh Christ my God, give me strength. A peace washed over her as she carefully climbed down the stairs, taking her time. The soldier loomed behind her.

“Here are the cellars, sir,” she was sure to say loudly. A rustle of cloth in the back shadows caught her attention, but she did not look. “My husband is quite proud of the work he has put into it.”

“Hmmm…” The soldier wasn’t paying attention. He stalked the rows of casks where the light still reached. His eyes narrowed. He began to turn back to Priscilla, his mouth forming the opening of a question.

A child whimpered from the back. The soldier spun. Priscilla let out an involuntary gasp and took a step forwards, only to be halted by a gleaming sword point inches away from her face.

Someone sobbed quietly. It was all lost. The room was packed with hidden believers now destined for a long and painful death and the hands of their emperor.

No! Not destined. Priscilla remembered the words of one of their teachers: In Christ, all things are possible.

In Christ.

For some reason the soldier hadn’t moved yet. His eyes were wide as he stared at Priscilla, and she realized she must be acting quite peculiar for someone on the way to the dungeons and death. Her back was straight and her gaze strong as the strength of the LORD flooded her veins. The young man looked more terrified than she felt, and that was because she was no longer afraid. Apprehensive, yes, but her fate and the fate of all these precious brothers and sisters was in the hands of the LORD, their Christ and Savior. He was their strength whether they were free or in chains at the foot of their enemies.

The soldier stepped back. Someone in the room gasped while there was a growl of movement, no doubt from one of the men ready to spring. It would do no good, and Priscilla suddenly saw not a soldier in front of her, but a young man following orders and unsure of what would become of his soul. He must know of the horrors inflicted on the faithful. And his heart was fragmented with indecision.

Give me strength.

He began to make for the trap door; his chest expanded as he began to let out a shout for the others to come.

In Christ all things are possible. Priscilla stood firm. A man’s soul hung in the balance, and the lives of many hung poised with it as well.

“In the name of Christ!” she whispered. There was no pleading. No begging. Though her eyes were wet and her voice quavered, Priscilla’s eyes shone with an intensity of an eagle facing down a lion of the mountains. She would not deny her faith nor back down, and she would fight for these precious souls. She could almost hear their children's cries seeping through the ground and into the roots of her feet.

“In the name of Christ,” she repeated, staring the soldier down.

The young man’s eyes widened. He glanced nervously from right to left as if searching for an escape. The space was wide open; no one would stop him from sounding the alarm.

Priscilla prayed. If this was the LORD’s time to send them to a noble death as witness for His name, so be it. But her heart stirred with a silent knowing that this was not the time. All she could do was stand there and cry out with her heart.

Slowly, she stepped forwards. The soldier wavered like a deer caught in a torchlight. He was so young, she realized, no more than a boy and not yet trapped in callous cruelty like so many of his brothers. “Please,” she said. “In Christ’s name. Do not do this thing.”

His sword sank a fraction of an inch lower.

“Scipio! Did you find anything?”

Priscilla didn’t flinch even as her heart hammered like a legion of drums within the confines of her ribs. The soldier winced and spun towards the light gleaming from the trapdoor. The speaker’s huge form blotted out most of the light. “Well?”

“No sir,” the young man replied. He looked back at Priscilla. “I haven’t seen a thing.”

“Then get out of there, then! We have a long march back to the barracks.” The door slammed shut and they were plunged into darkness.

Priscilla’s breath left her in a rush. She kept her back straight though she wanted to wilt against the wall. A chorus of sighs and muffled sobs cracked across the room, followed by the frantic shushing from parents.

The soldier turned to leave. Priscilla reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you. May the blessing of Christ Jesus be upon you.”

“Do- do you often- often meet here?”

The room seemed to hold its breath again. This could be a trap, lulling them into a false sense of security and pulling in the net to catch more believers. But Priscilla saw a starved hope shining in his eyes that could not be ignored.

“Come and see,” she replied. Then she stepped back into the shadows.

The soldier left through the trap door, but he glanced back for the briefest of moments. Then he was gone. The people waited several moments more until the sound of footsteps crunched away. Slowly, the room came back to life as people wept and praised God for His divine protection. But Priscilla simply stood by the wall with her eyes closed, a smile touching her lips and a song of praise that no man could quench rising in her heart.

“Come and see.”

She knew the soldier would. And who knew where the LORD would take him from there?