The lamps in Lydia’s courtyard guttered low, throwing long wavering shadows across the clay walls. Most of the assembly had drifted homeward, leaving only a few lingering figures—Paul himself, Lydia, two older men deep in debate over a point of scripture, and Filby, who stood as though rooted to the spot.
The Psychologist, ever the observer, leaned close to Filby before he stepped forward. His voice was low, meant only for Filby’s ears.
“In this world,” he murmured, “visions are evidence. Dreams are testimony. A hallucination is a revelation. If you ask him about what he saw, he will treat it as fact. And remember—he never met Jesus in the flesh. His authority comes from a vision.”
Filby nodded, though his face showed the strain of reconciling scholarship with the living man before him.
He approached Paul.
✦ Filby’s First Conversation with Paul
Paul greeted him with a warm, searching gaze. “You have questions,” he said, as though he had read Filby’s heart.
“Yes,” Filby replied. “I have heard of a wandering teacher from Nazareth. A healer. A man who argued with the Temple authorities. A man some say was the Messiah.”
Paul’s brow furrowed. “A teacher from Nazareth… do you speak of Apollonius? The philosopher? He traveled widely. Some say he performed wonders.”
Filby blinked. “No. Not Apollonius. I mean Jesus.”
Paul’s expression did not change. He did not show recognition—only curiosity.
“I have heard,” Paul said slowly, “of a spirit. A heavenly being who descended and conquered the powers of the air. A savior who triumphed over the demons that rule this world. But a man? A healer walking the roads of Galilee? I do not know this.”
Filby felt the ground shift beneath him.
“You… never met Him?” Filby asked.
Paul shook his head. “I saw Him in glory. In the sky. A light that struck me blind. A voice that called me. That is how He reveals Himself. Not as a man of flesh, but as the Lord of Heaven.”
The Psychologist, listening from a few paces away, whispered to the Time Traveler, “He’s describing a celestial Christ. A cosmic savior. Not a historical preacher.”
Paul continued, his voice gaining intensity.
“The Messiah fought the spirits of wickedness. He broke their dominion. He appeared to me as He appears to all who are chosen—through revelation. Through vision. Through the spirit.”
Filby’s face had gone pale. “But… the stories of His life? His teachings? His death?”
Paul looked genuinely puzzled. “His death was a mystery revealed. A sacrifice in the heavens. A triumph over the rulers of darkness. These things were shown to me. Not witnessed on Earth.”
Filby’s breath caught. “You never heard of Him walking among men?”
Paul shook his head. “If He walked the Earth, the Lord did not reveal it to me.”
✦ The First Signs of Suspicion
Before Filby could gather his thoughts, a potter’s apprentice who had lingered near the doorway spoke up, eyeing the Time Team with open curiosity.
“You ask strange questions,” he said. “Are you from that island off the coast of Gaul? The one where the people paint their faces and speak in riddles? They are strange there.”
Another man added, “Your accents are odd. Not Greek. Not Roman. Not Eastern.”
A woman frowned. “You watch everything. Like inspectors. Or spies.”
The Time Traveler stepped forward with practiced calm. “We are pilgrims,” he said. “From many lands. Seeking wisdom.”
Paul raised a hand, quieting the murmurs. “Let them be. The Lord draws seekers from every nation.”
But the suspicion did not fully fade. The potter’s apprentice continued to stare at the Time Team with narrowed eyes, as though trying to place them in some category of foreigner he had never encountered.
Filby, shaken by Paul’s words, barely noticed.
He whispered to the Time Traveler, “He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know Jesus lived. He only knows the Christ of visions.”
The Time Traveler’s face tightened. “We must tread carefully. We are already attracting attention.”
The Psychologist exhaled slowly. “And Filby… you’ve just discovered something that could rewrite half the world’s theology.”
Filby looked back at Paul—who was now speaking softly with Lydia, his face serene, his manner gentle.
“He speaks of a heavenly Christ,” Filby murmured. “Not a man. Not a teacher. Not the Jesus of later stories.”
The Time Traveler placed a hand on Filby’s shoulder. “Tomorrow,” he said, “we must decide how deeply we dare to inquire.”
And in the quiet courtyard, under the flickering lamps and the watchful eyes of ancient Corinth, the Time Team realized that history was not merely different from what they expected.
It was stranger.
And it was beginning to notice them.
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