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. If you haven’t read Part Two, you can find it here.
Ephesus ~ AD 52
Prisca unpacked the last of their household goods. It seemed the quiet life she, Malchus, and Aquila had lived in Rome was not to be. She and Aquila had come with Paul to this new city. After a tearful goodbye, he had gone on to other travels.
Already, she and Aquila had met a few believers and brought them to their home. Though the people were different, the fellowship of believers was the same. In just a few weeks, the house church became a place to learn and share more of Jesus.
The first time the couple visited the synagogue, a young man stood and exhorted. He had an eloquence about him Prisca had not heard in one so young. She listened intently as he spoke about repentance and the baptism of John. He spoke compellingly about Jesus as John had. Yet, about the baptism of the Holy Spirit and his writing of the Law on their hearts, he was silent.
Aquila whispered to her, “He doesn’t know! He must have never heard of Pentecost!” Prisca nodded. “We must tell him. Perhaps we should have him come home with us to dine today.”
As the worshippers dispersed, the couple introduced themselves to the young man. They discovered his name was Apollos, and he was very fervent in his worship of God. Apollos accepted their invitation to dine. By the time evening came, Apollos knew all about the baptism of the Holy Spirit. He planned to be at the next house church meeting.
When Apollos had gone, Prisca turned to her husband. “My womb still aches for a son, but this young man … ”
Aquila gave her a gentle smile. “I know, my Priscilla. I feel it, too. Perhaps God has sent our son after all these years.” She squeezed his hand and nodded. No words were necessary. Their hearts were full.
Rome ~ AD 64
The years spent with Apollos were precious, but all too short. He was a powerful orator. Soon, he was off on missionary trips nearly as often as Paul was. In the meantime, Emperor Claudius died. At long last, Prisca and Aquila could return to their home in Rome. The couple reunited with the believers who had grown so much in Christ during their absence.
“Perhaps we are back home for good,” Prisca said contentedly to Aquila as they prepared for bed one evening.
“It has been nine years, as long as we have been in one place,” he replied. Our church here is flourishing. If the Lord God wills, I would not complain.”
Hours later, they woke to the smell of smoke. Already flames had engulfed the pile of skins in their workroom. Looking about wildly, Aquila rushed to the window. It looked as if the entire city was on fire!
“Hurry, Priscilla! We must leave.” Prisca jumped from the bed and saw the corner of their bedclothes glowing orange. She gave a hurried glance around the room, but there was no time to grab any of their belongings. Aquila grabbed her hand, scooping up their sandals on the way out. Screams erupted around them as they joined the throngs of people running for their lives.
Ephesus ~ AD 67
The fire had only been the beginning. Though it was never proven, many believed the new emperor, Nero, had started it. Those loyal to Rome blamed it on the pagan believers. Whatever the origins of the fire that had destroyed most of the homes in their old neighborhood in Rome, Nero’s cruelty knew no bounds. Soon, there were almost daily reports of his execution of some Christians, as they had come to be called.
With the generosity of the Christians in Ephesus, Prisca and Aquila rebuilt their business. Once again, they lived in the city where they had met their dear son in the faith, Apollos. He stopped by to visit from time to time. Prisca cherished those moments. Animated and articulate, he would speak of what the Holy Spirit was doing. It seemed the persecution only seemed to fuel the flames of the Way. New people were becoming the disciples of Jesus all over the world.
Timothy was Paul’s son in the faith. Just like Prisca, Timothy had a Gentile father. Paul had trained him in the things of God, just as she and Aquila had trained Apollos. Now Timothy was the bishop at Ephesus. He was much gentler than Paul, but his zeal for God shone through his calm demeanor.
Paul had been imprisoned for some time. Roman officials allowed him to live in a house and continue his writing. Prisca and Aquila had read the letters he had written to their former house churches in Rome and Corinth. Timothy had read the letter Paul had sent to Ephesus during their last house church meeting.
When Timothy came to their home one evening after dusk, Prisca knew it was not a normal visit. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach when she saw the look on Timothy’s face.
“I fear Nero will execute Paul soon. Paul wrote several letters to me personally. Of course, he could not say some things plainly. He gave instructions to bring these to you.” Timothy held out the parchments Prisca and Aquila had so often seen Paul filling with his writings. Tears pricked Prisca’s eyes but refused to fall.
Timothy continued, “Of course, Paul is not fearful for himself, but for his work to continue when he is gone. He wanted me to give the parchments to you. The Holy Spirit inspired them. The Church needs them to continue to grow and make disciples. Copy them as many times as possible and distribute them all over the world.”
“But what about you, Timothy?” Prisca asked.
“I must go to Paul. I know he fears for my life as well. So often, I have accompanied him on his journeys. Someone in Rome will surely recognize me. Yet he asks for me. I am to take his cloak.”
“Yes, of course,” Aquila smiled sadly. “It holds his scrolls, the Books he holds dear. But how will you get into the prison?”
“Paul wants me first to go to Onesiphorus.” Timothy paused and struggled with emotion before continuing, “We know Nero executed him. But his family knows where Paul is. I believe Paul wants me to find out from them how to get to him as safely as possible.”
Timothy glanced out the window as if someone was following him. They all had been watching their backs in recent months. “I must go. My ship sails early in the morning.”
Aquila gripped Timothy’s arm. “Farewell, Brother. Godspeed!”
Prisca felt the tears come then, streaming down her face. “Please,” she whispered, “Give Paul our love. And tell him, we will not let his words be forgotten.”
Timothy reassured her, “He knows this without my words. But I hope to make it in time to tell him. Before he is … gone.” And then Timothy was gone, and Prisca fell to her knees with a sob. Heaven grew nearer, but losing such a dear friend, no matter how temporary, brought pain she could not ignore.
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The sword that took Paul’s life slashed through the hearts of the Christians as well. Yet no power of Rome could remove the Church’s Head. Christ had already delivered the final blow to death for them all.
For several years, Aquila and Priscilla faithfully copied Paul’s words. They quickly lost count of how many copies they had distributed.
“Surely, we have made enough, so at least some of them will never be lost,” Aquila said as he finished copying the letter to their beloved friends at Ephesus.
Priscilla smiled as she looked over his shoulder. “You were too much of an influence on Paul, my eagle. He calls me Priscilla every time he writes about us.”
“All but this time,” Aquila held out the letter Timothy had referenced at their home that grievous evening.
Prisca’s eyes watered. “Yes, he called me by my formal name then. He had serious matters on his mind.”
Ephesus ~ AD 69
The day they both dreaded and anticipated finally came. A hint of a warning came to them from one of their friends. It gave them enough time to send away all of Paul’s writings they still had in their home. The couple did not know how Nero would destroy their earthly bodies. His capricious will sometimes sent Jesus’ followers to the beasts, sometimes to beheading, and sometimes to be used as candlesticks for his cruel pleasure.
“We must go now,” Aquila spoke softly and took her hand when the soldiers came for them. Priscilla remembered the day her mother spoke similar words. Only in her husband’s eyes, there was no shadow of fear. And this time, she did not have to go alone.
When the soldier roughly grabbed her arm, she grasped Aquila’s hand tightly. The soldier heard her voice, calm and resolute. “I’m quite ready.”
He turned sharply at her tone, but she was not speaking to him. Prisca’s eyes were on the sky as if she were looking beyond it. Dipping his head, Nero’s soldier followed her to the carriage.
Thank you for reading! I hope Priscilla and Aquila’s story inspires you. Though I added a few creative details, they were real people and this is their story. Someday, I plan to meet them in Heaven. Will you join us?