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Updated: June 7, 2025
He drew his knife from his girdle, and feeling of the cords that bound his brother's ankles, cut the knots. Timokles sighed with relief, as he moved his cramped feet. The feet of two of the other Christians were bound with thongs, and these Heraklas cut also, but the other five Christians were bound hand and foot with chains, and for them Heraklas' knife could not avail.
The sun sank, and Heraklas raised for the little company the evening hymn of the early church. His mother's voice rose clear and sweet, as all sang: "Children, praise the Lord, Praise ye the name of the Lord. We praise thee, we hymn thee, we bless thee, Because of the greatness of thy glory.
At the end of the second month, Heraklas read with even more eagerness than at first. Here was something that even the maxims of Ptah-hotep had not attained. Never had Heraklas seen such a book as this Gospel of John. Its words followed him when he was not reading. Why should the words of Jesus of Nazareth cling to one's memory with so persistent a force?
Heraklas looked around him at the proud, beautiful city. "O Alexandria, Alexandria!" he whispered, "in thee is found the blood of the saints!" For a moment the thought of such a death, as a Christian's punishment, overcame him. Yet he remembered that it was through Potamiaena's martyrdom that the soldier, Basilides, was led to become a Christian also.
"O Isis," murmured Heraklas, as he lost sight of the carnelian buckle within the waves, "I care not for thy blood! I know whose blood hath washed away my stain." With reverent rejoicing, he concealed his papyrus and turned homeward. He passed into the great city. A woman was worshiping before a statue of the god Chonsu, the moon. Heraklas went by quickly, making no sign of reverence.
Almost daily, since then, Heraklas had sought some Christian who taught him more perfectly the way of the Lord. "He hath assuredly come!" affirmed the woman. "Vitruvius saw him carried to the ship with other Christians!" The before eagerly-read papyrus dropped from Heraklas' hand. He grew weak and faint. The woman looked at him pityingly. A wild impulse seized Heraklas.
The hours went by and Heraklas did not come, to be spied upon. That morning, Heraklas had gone out to seek some Christians whom he knew. Two weeks ago he had sought them for the first time to tell them that he wished to join their number. Greatly had he and they rejoiced together. "Witness a good confession, as did thy brother Timokles," an old man admonished Heraklas.
How worn he was! And that brand upon his cheek! Athribis bent forward. Timokles' eyes were opening. "Athribis!" exclaimed Timokles faintly, as, after a prolonged gaze, he recognized the slave. "Ah, my Christian master! My Christian master!" jeered Athribis, "I see you once again. My Christian master!" The hands of the unseen Heraklas clinched at that tone. Timokles looked around, bewildered.
But, as yet, Athribis hardly dared say so, for he had no certain proof to bring of Heraklas' Christianity. If only he could find decisive proof, and bring it before the authorities, what a reward he might hope to have given him!
During the three months that had elapsed since Heraklas found the papyrus hanging from the palm, he had come often to this secret hiding-place. He knew the servants were not to be trusted in the matter. Frequently, during the first month, he had thought that he would destroy the papyrus, and, as often, he had deferred doing so, so much was he always drawn back to reading it.
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