Duty at Golgotha 87

Steadfast love.

Iona's reaction was everything which Longinus hoped for. He relied on her constancy and she did not disappoint him. He went to the house of Quintilius.
He told her all, the successful skirmish with the rebels, his mortal wounds in the wilderness and escape from death, the stranger who came to him, and his act of unauthorized mercy which placed him in peril with regard to his military career.
Her first comment was, "You have returned safely; that is all that matters. You were in my thoughts while you were gone."
Longinus searched her eyes, "Do you realize the possible consequences of this?"
"Yes," she answered simply, "It changes nothing. I love you just the same."
This was the first time Longinus had heard this declaration; his mind was reeling with the reality of it. "You have never said this before," he whispered.
"Surely you knew," Iona countered gently, "No one else has ever seen the world as you do, that is, no one has seen it with me the way you do."
Longinus' heart was pounding; he was overjoyed, but sad, at the same time. He wondered why the world could not be a place where those who loved could love in peace, without the entanglements of outside forces, where this love could be shared without complications and adverse circumstances. "This could mean exile or death, at the least, disgrace and dishonorable discharge from the army."
"It does not matter," Iona said gently, "I will not abandon you."
"I love you," he whispered.
"Good," she rejoined gently, "I have been waiting to hear it."
Longinus sank to the floor and buried his head on her lap. She leaned over and enfolded his head with her arms. "You are courageous enough to have fear," she whispered. All the pent up feeling of many, many months welled up with him, the memory of failed loved, rejection, the beauty of new love and acceptance, the mystery of the person and message of Jesus of Nazareth, and the looming specter of disgrace and dishonor. A cacophony of mixed emotion was released in his tears. Longinus wept, gently, softly, while Iona held him fast in her arms, whispering barely audible, gentle words of comfort. "Tell me about the stranger in the wilderness. Did you ever discover who he was?"
Longinus lifted his head and sat next to her, "No, I did not. He departed before anyone could question him."
"Very strange," Iona remarked, "But I believe you know who it was, or, at least, have a suspicion. Whoever spoke to you, moved you to compassion, otherwise you would not have released all those men. You said he spoke to you."
Longinus regarded her for a moment, "Yes, not one bone will be broken. Do my work; render mercy."
"I do not understand 'not one bone will be broken,' but the rest of his words were clear enough," Iona commented, "It seems that a god has spoken to you."
"His bones were not broken," Longinus murmured, "I would not allow it."
"Therefore none of yours were broken," Iona added, "You said that the surgeon could not account for your sudden recovery."
"You think that Jesus of Nazareth spoke to me? From the grave?" Longinus asked.
Iona continued, "You said that you recognized the face, the voice, and the eyes; what else can you conclude."
"Delusions," Longinus countered, "The workings of a feverish brain."
"Perhaps," Iona pointed out, "It must have been a strong delusion to move you to such a dramatic decision, a decision which might be detrimental to yourself. Whatever it was, it had great power."
"You seem to be a follower of the man already," Longinus commented, "And you never met Jesus of Nazareth."

"To the mind of a Greek, one could be his follower without having met him," Iona rejoined, "That is, if he represents the One High God."
"You saw him only once?" Longinus inquired.
"Yes, as I told you, only once, from a distance, cheered and hailed as a king by thousands," Iona replied.
"And you believe that he may yet live?" Longinus continued.
"It is not uncongenial to the Greek mind," Iona remarked, "After all, if the gods can take human form, why not the One High God? It is not an impossible leap of thought."
"Supposing, of course, that this is what gods do," Longinus rejoined.