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Updated: June 7, 2025
Softly the two men proceeded toward the direction from which Heraklas had heard sounds. Stealthily Heraklas rose. He surmised where the two men were going. He wished, yet hardly dared, to follow. The light swung one side. One man turned to speak to the other, and the light fell full on the speaker's face. Heraklas leaped softly forward, and followed without hesitation.
"O Lord, help Heraklas to know thee!" prayed Timokles with dropping tears. Something made him turn his head. He started, for he saw, stretched out toward him from beneath the black tent, an arm. No more was visible. The black tent descended to the very ground. Looking more closely, he discerned in the hand a knife. For an instant, Timokles thought his enemy was upon him.
They think I am guarding these prisoners safely." "Small time wilt thou spend guarding them, if thou knowest where aught is to drink!" responded Athribis sarcastically. "How much hast thou drank today?" The wearied Timokles slumbered on, regardless of the light and talking. Back in the dark, Heraklas clasped his hands. A mighty sob rose in his throat. The Christian was indeed Timokles!
He dared not burn the book. He stood before its searching words a convicted sinner. The suspicion of veiled surveillance that haunted Heraklas made him cautious of reading his, papyrus at home. He sought places, to read it abroad. Hidden among the crags beside the sea, or in the vines on the banks of Lake Mareotis, Heraklas read, and waged the soul-struggle that had risen within him.
"They carry the shrine of the sacred beetle of the sun," suspected Heraklas. "I cannot meet them!" He turned, and dashed down the first opening that presented itself. The passage led him utterly out of his way. "But better so," meditated Heraklas, "than that I should have met that skin-dressed priest!" He stopped an instant.
He, who had watched his consecration-night in the temple of Isis; he, who had caught some sight of the Mysteries sacred to that goddess; he, who had worn the harsh linen robe and those symbolic robes in which a novice watches his dream-indicated night what had he to do with Christians? Would that Timokles had observed the emperor's command that no one should become a Christian! Heraklas groaned.
Living or dead, the desert held him. The Roman emperor, Septimius Severus, who ruled Egypt, had lately issued an edict that no one should become a Christian. What hope was there for Timokles? "He will never come back!" said Heraklas now, with a low sob, as the desert swam before his tear-filled eyes. "O Timokles!" There was a rustle among the leaves not far away. Heraklas turned hastily.
Heraklas marked how the captive was represented to bend beneath the table's weight. The boy's eyes grew fierce. Captivity seemed a cruel thing, since Timokles had gone into it.
He knew of the little company of Christians that had been brought captive to Alexandria, for a slave belonging to another household had told Athribis secretly, "He who was once thy young master the Christian, Timokles hath been brought in from the desert and goeth on the ship!" In his heart Athribis made answer, "The ship needeth another passenger my young master, the Christian, Heraklas!"
When the darkness covered the surface of the harbor, Heraklas rose and girt about him the ample dress he wore, of fine linen, that descended to his feet. He slipped softly into the water, and swam toward the ship. Reaching the small boat that floated by the ship, Heraklas drew himself up into the little craft. He listened to the lap of water on the side of the ship.
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