Note: This story first appeared in Untold: Bible Stories Reimagined, an anthology of biblical fiction. While I used creative expression to fill in details, I stayed as true as possible to the biblical and historical data I found. I hope you enjoy the story of my favorite biblical couple, Priscilla and Aquila.
Rome ~ AD 32
Fear shaded her mother’s eyes. “You have to go,” she said in a low voice. Looking down, she twisted the fabric of her gown in her hand. “I…I’m sorry, Prisca. I have no other choice.”
Prisca refused to cry. Since her father died and she was not allowed to talk about him, her tears had dried up with her questions. To mask the terror pumping through her, she hardened her voice, “Must I marry then? At 13?”
Her mother shook her head violently from side to side. “No!” It came out in a harsh whisper. She laughed bitterly and glanced at the Roman eagle symbol on the wall above them. “Never marry unless you marry the aquila itself. Power is all that will save you.” Then, the fear returned as she looked over Prisca’s shoulder to see her husband approaching.
He looked down at Prisca with a smile that had never reached his eyes since she met him. “Your mother told you then that you are going to my relative? You are old enough now.”
Prisca’s chin rose. “I’m to be married, then?”
Her stepfather laughed heartily. “Oh, no! Malchus is a Jew. A Jew would never marry someone who is a …” Prisca saw her mother’s eyes flash. He paused and finished, “Someone so young. He will train you in his trade.”
Prisca nodded and smiled brightly at the Roman senator who had married her mother. “I think I shall like Jews then. I’m quite ready.” His smile slipped only slightly before he gave a brisk nod and motioned for her to follow him to the carriage.
Jerusalem ~ AD 30
The long voyage from Pontus to Jerusalem could not dampen Aquila’s spirits. Just this morning, he had finally arrived in Jerusalem with his father. His first pilgrimage! The jostling, noisy crowds heightened his excitement. In the city that meant so much to his people, Jews had come from all over the world to celebrate Shavuot, the giving of the Law to Moses.
Aquila stayed close to his father as they weaved among the people. He heard snatches of conversations without understanding them. Father had warned him that much of the language would be unfamiliar. Not only were they far from their province of Pontus, but many of those gathered were from far-off places as well. The thing uniting them was not their common language but their common devotion to the Lord God and His Law.
Suddenly, amidst the din, a gust of wind engulfed Aquila and his father. Aquila heard the wind as much as he felt it. Looking around to discover its source, he saw a group of men and women speaking excitedly. His eyes seemed to trick him, and he blinked. What was on their heads?!
Aquila turned to his father, whose expression was a mix of wonder and shock. “Is that … fire?” he murmured. Aquila turned back to the group. Sure enough, it looked like two flames were erupting from each of their heads!
Father and son pressed closer. How Aquila wished he could understand what the people were saying! Something had happened to them …was happening. They appeared to be a group of Galileans who spoke a dialect he did not know.
The big man in the front stepped out from the group, and Aquila looked up into his face. The man smiled down at him. Aquila felt his face flame even as he stared at the fire resting on the man’s head. The man began to speak, and to Aquila’s amazement, he could understand every word.
“You men of Judea, and you that dwell at Jerusalem … this is what was foretold by the prophet Joel …” Aquila watched the man’s lips as he formed words, but they were not forming the words he heard. Somehow, some way, he was hearing the man’s speech in the dialect of Pontus! He glanced at his father, who was listening intently. Soon, Aquila was lost in the big man’s speech and forgot all about the surrounding crowd.
~~~~~~~~~
The next day, Aquila followed his father to the boat for the long voyage home. His first pilgrimage was nothing like he expected. The big man, whose name was Peter, had told them all about the man named Jesus Who had died and risen from the dead. He had explained how the Jews, Aquila’s people, had killed the Son of God!
Aquila remembered his heart beating faster as Peter spoke. Though he had been far away from the execution of the One called Jesus, he felt guilt gripping him.
Peter said, “Repent and be baptized in Jesus’ name, and you, too, shall receive this gift of the Holy Ghost.” In an instant, Aquila knew Jesus Christ was the risen Son of God. His guilt fled like a torrential rain was washing it away. In its place, he felt an indescribable peace and joy.
Aquila also knew the Law they had come to the festival to read was no longer necessary. It was as if he now had the Law written on his heart! Peter had baptized them, not in the traditional ceremonial cleansing, but to demonstrate that Jesus’ sacrifice was enough for all their sins and now they could live for Him.
Pontus ~ AD 42
Twelve years had passed since Pentecost, but Aquila had never forgotten. As he strode toward his father’s fishing boat, he noticed a stranger speaking to his father. There was something familiar about the man’s form.
As Aquila stepped into view, the big man turned, and a smile spread across his face. “Ah! You have grown, Son!”
For a moment, Aquila’s mind groped to find recognition. Then, “You are Peter, the Pentecost preacher!”
Peter’s smile broadened. “I am! I was just asking your father about you. He says you have been restless and speak often of that day.”
Aquila nodded sheepishly. “It was life-changing, Sir, … heart-changing.”
Peter nodded, “Yes, it was.” He looked out over the Black Sea, then turned back to Aquila with a serious look on his face. “I would love to have help in Rome, where I am sharing the Way. How would you feel about joining me?”
Aquila looked at his father. His heart pounded, and he instantly knew this was where the Holy Spirit had been leading. His father’s return smile held a touch of sadness. “Go, Son! And our Lord be with you.”
Aquila looked back at Peter with a broad smile. “I think our Lord has ordained this course. Yes, Sir, I will go.”
Rome ~ AD 43
“Malchus?” Prisca called out as she entered the house.
“In here, child!” the elderly man called from the workroom.
Prisca smiled as she entered. Twenty-three years old and he still addressed her as he had when she had met him ten years earlier. Sometimes Malchus affectionately called her Priscilla. Little Prisca. She sometimes imagined her father might have called her Priscilla, but he had died when she was only three. Everything about him was a shadow.
Prisca approached Malchus’ workbench, where he painstakingly stitched the goat skins. He had faithfully fulfilled the role of father in her life. She could not ask for better. Malchus had introduced her to the one true God, as well as the tent-making trade. When Peter came to Rome, he had revealed the Way of Jesus and the Holy Spirit Who fulfilled the Law by writing it on the hearts of men. She and Malchus had followed the Way, and Peter had baptized them.
There had never been a place for her before coming to Jesus. Now, she was valued and loved. Except by a man. Malchus chided her for turning down the interest of the few men who had approached him for her hand in marriage. But the fear in her mother’s eyes and the coldness in her stepfather’s stopped her every time.
Malchus looked up at her with a smile. “Are you daydreaming again, Priscilla?”
She started. “I suppose I was, Malchus. I came in to tell you Peter brought a new helper with him from Pontus. He says he needs work and asked if he could apprentice with us.”
“Whomever Peter recommends, I will be happy to use.” Malchus rubbed his hands together. His joints were not what they used to be, and Prisca could not keep up with the demand on her own. “What was his trade before? Does he have experience?”
“Peter said he and his family were fishermen. That is probably why Peter is partial to him.” She chuckled.
“Well, they have to know some stitching to mend those nets. It should not be too hard to train him if he has a mind to work.”
Before Prisca could reply, a knock sounded on the door. “They are here now, I imagine. I will let them in.” She welcomed Peter and nodded to the young man next to him. He appeared to be about her age. At Malchus’ step behind her, she moved aside to defer to him as the owner.
Malchus held out a hand in greeting. “Welcome, Peter! And Priscilla just finished telling me about this apprentice you bring us. She did not tell me his name, though.”
“I do not know it, Malchus,” she spoke, glancing toward the young man. Peter’s new helper stepped forward and grasped Malchus’ hand.
“Greetings, Malchus! My name is Aquila, and I am thankful for your offer to train me in your trade.”
No one noticed Prisca’s start at the name. Aquila. Eagle. Her mother’s offhand comment about the Roman power symbol of the aquila came rushing back to her. She knew the Jews saw the eagle as a symbol of mercy. Roman power ruled the first years of Prisca’s life, but mercy marked her days since meeting Malchus and others of the Way. She suddenly realized the three men were looking at her.
Malchus was saying, “Priscilla often daydreams, but never when she is working. I am sure you will learn quickly with her to show you our trade.”
Prisca felt her face flushing, but she bravely nodded. “My apologies. Welcome, Aquila. My name is Prisca.”
His smile widened as he inclined his head. “I think I prefer Priscilla,” he spoke warmly. When she looked up again, she noticed his smile went all the way to his eyes.
Thank you for reading! Find Part Two here.