The priest lowered his eyes; he felt a twinge of pain. Eulalius had always confided in him; together they had shared the tribulations and dangers that had sometimes beset the community.
The bishop, conscious of Ephron's emotions, was tempted to reveal to him the secret brought by John, but in the end he remained silent.
The two men, each burdened in his own way, bade each other good night.
"Why are you enemies of the Persians?"
"We are not their enemies; it is they who, greedy for what is not theirs, wish to possess our city."
John was conversing with a young man of more or less his own age in the service of Eulalius.
Kalman was preparing to be a priest. He was the grandson of an old friend of Eulalius, and the bishop had taken him under his protection. He had become John's best source of information, explaining the details of the city's politics, the vicissitudes its people faced in these dark days, the palace intrigues.
Kalman's father was the king's overseer, and his grandfather had been the royal archivist; he himself had considered the idea of following in his grandfather's footsteps, but his sponsorship by Eulalius had marked him, and he dreamed now of being a priest, perhaps one day a bishop.
Ephron slipped quietly into the room where John and Kalman were talking, unnoticed by the two young men. For a few seconds he listened to their animated conversation, but then, coughing softly, he made them aware of his presence.
"Eulalius would like to speak with you," he said, addressing John. "He is in the room where he works, waiting for you."
John thanked Ephron and made his way to the bishop's chambers. Ephron was a good man, and a dedicated priest, but John felt his distrust and was not comfortable in his presence.
"I have bad news, my son," the bishop said when John had seated himself. Eulalius looked weary and his voice was filled with concern. "I fear that soon we may be besieged by the Persians. If that comes to pass, you will not be able to leave the city, and your life, like all our lives, will be in great danger. You have been in Edessa a month, and I know that you are still unsure whether to reveal to me the place where the shroud of our Lord is hidden. But I fear for your life, John, and I fear for the shroud that bears the visage of our Lord. If what you have told me is true, you must save the shroud and leave the city as soon as possible. We cannot run the risk of the city being destroyed and the true face of Jesus being lost forever."
Eulalius saw uncertainty flood John's face. He wished it were not necessary to command such a drastic step, but he saw no other choice, given the peril they faced. Since the day the young man arrived, the bishop had found no calm in sleep, fearing day and night for the fate of the grave cloth that John spoke of. Sometimes he doubted its very existence, but at other times, the limpid eyes of the young man led him to believe in it with his whole heart.
John rose to his feet. "No! I cannot leave here! I cannot take away the shroud in which the body of our Lord was buried! It must remain in Edessa!"
"Calm yourself, John; I have decided what is best. You have a wife in Alexandria; you must not remain here any longer. We know not what will become of the kingdom. You are the keeper of an important secret, and you must continue to be so. I will not ask you to tell me where the shroud is but only how I can help you recover it, so that you may save it."
"Eulalius, I must stay here, I know I must stay here. I cannot leave now, much less expose the shroud to the dangers of the journey. My father made me swear to obey the command of Abgar, Josar, and the apostle Thaddeus. I cannot take the shroud from Edessa, for I have sworn not to."
"John, you must obey me," the bishop corrected him.
"I cannot; I must not. I will stay and deliver myself over to the will of God."
"Tell me, what is the will of God?"
John felt the grave, weary voice of the bishop like a hammer beating at his heart. He stared at Eulalius and suddenly understood how troubled the old man had been made by his arrival and the fantastic story of the shroud.
Eulalius had been patient and generous with him, but now he was commanding him to leave Edessa. The bishop's decision forced John to face the truth. He knew that his father had not lied to him, but what if his father had been lied to? What if at sometime during the long centuries since the birth of our Lord, someone had seized the shroud for himself or destroyed it? What if the entire story was a fable?
The old bishop saw a storm of emotions cross John's face, and he felt deep compassion for the young man's anguish.
"Edessa has survived sieges, wars, starvations, fires, floods… It will survive the Persians, but you, my son, must act according to the dictates of reason, and for your good and for the good of the secret your family has kept for so many decades, you must save yourself. Make arrangements now for your departure, John, for in three days you will leave the city. A group of merchants has mounted a caravan; it is your last chance to save yourself."
"And if I tell you where the shroud is?"
"I will help you save it."
John's mind was in turmoil as he left the bishop's study, and his eyes were filled with tears. He went out into the street, where the coolness of morning had not yet been dispelled by the burning sun of June, and he wandered aimlessly. For the first time, he fully understood that the citizens of Edessa were preparing for the siege that they knew was upon their city.
Laborers were working tirelessly to reinforce the walls, and soldiers bustled throughout the city, their faces stern, their brows furrowed. In their stalls, merchants displayed few goods, and on the faces of all he met he saw fear.
John realized how self-centered he had been in not heeding what was happening all around him, and for the first time since he had arrived, he felt homesick for Myriam, his young wife. He had not even written to tell her he was well. Eulalius was right: Either he left Edessa immediately or he faced the same fate as its citizens. A shiver of fear and foreboding ran through him, for he felt that his fate might well be death.
He did not know how many hours he spent wandering through the city, but when he returned to the house of Eulalius, he suddenly became aware of the thirst that had been with him all day and the hunger that gnawed at him. He found Eulalius with Ephron and Kalman, speaking with two circumspect nobles sent from the palace.
"Come in, John. Hannan and Maruta bring us sad news," the bishop said. "The siege is upon us. Edessa will not surrender to the Persians. Today, two wagons have arrived at the city's gates. Inside were the heads of a group of soldiers who had gone out to gauge the strength of the forces under Khusro. We are at war."
The two nobles, Hannan and Maruta, looked at the young Alexandrian without much interest, and then they continued to report to the bishop on the situation.
Confounded and stunned, John listened to the men talk. He realized that even if he wished to, leaving the city would not be easy. The situation was worse than Eulalius had thought: There would be no more caravans. No one wished to run the certain risk of losing his life upon the road.