ΕΠΙΣΤΟΛΗ ΣΤʹ

ΕΠΙΣΤΟΛΗ ΣΤʹ

We've only just been able to catch our breath now that we've arrived at Cucusus, from where we're also writing; only just now have we been able to see clearly again, free of the smoke and the manifold cloud of evils that overtook us on the journey. For now that the painful things have passed, I am recounting them to your piety.¹ For when we were still in the middle of them, I did not want to do this, for fear of grieving you terribly. For nearly thirty days—or even more—I spent struggling with the most severe fevers, traveling this long, hard road the whole time, and besieged as well by other most severe stomach ailments. Picture what followed from that: no doctors, no baths, no provisions, no other relief; the fear of the Isaurians besieging us from every side; and the other evils that hard roads usually breed—worry, anxiety, the lack of anyone to care for us.² But now all of that has been put to rest. For once we arrived at Cucusus, we laid aside the whole illness along with its remnants, and we are in the purest health; we have also been freed from fear of the Isaurians, since there are many soldiers here, and ones very firmly posted against them; and an abundance of provisions flows to us from every side, with everyone receiving us with complete goodwill—even though the place itself is extremely desolate.³ But as it happened, my lord Dioscorus was here, and he even sent a servant to Caesarea for this very purpose, urging and begging that I not prefer any other house to his—and many others did the same.⁴ But I decided it was necessary to choose him over the others, and we took lodging in his house. And he himself becomes everything to us — so much so that we keep protesting to him because of his great lavishness and the abundance he wants to provide.⁵ Indeed, for our sake he even moved from the country house where he was living, so that he could take care of us in every way; and he is preparing a house for us that's suitable for winter, doing and arranging everything for this purpose, and in short, nothing has been left undone for our care.⁶ And many other stewards and managers as well, ordered by letter from their own masters, keep coming continually, ready to give us rest in every way. Now I have said all this — both lamenting the earlier hardships and reporting the good things — so that no one would rashly move us from here. For if those who want to do us this favor would let us stay where we wish, and would not again be about to assign us some other place of their choosing, then accept the favor.⁷ But if, after moving us from here, they were going to send us to another place — and again a journey, and again a stay abroad — that would be extremely hard for me: first, for fear they might send us to some farther or harsher place; and second, because for me traveling is harder than a thousand exiles. For the hardship of this journey has already brought us right to the gates of death.^✦ We're staying in Cucusus now, recovering through continuous rest and quiet, and through that stillness healing the hardships we endured for so long—our crushed bones and our worn-out flesh. My lady Sabiniana the deaconess arrived the very same day we did. She was crushed and worn out, at an age when even moving is difficult, yet she remains young in her eagerness and feels none of the pain. She said she was ready to meet us even in Scythia, since rumors were circulating that we were being taken there. She says she's ready to never go back anywhere, but to stay wherever we are.⁸ The people of the Church welcomed her with great eagerness and goodwill. My lord Constantius, the most devout priest, would have been here long ago. He wrote to me asking if he could come; he wouldn't dare show up without my consent, even though he wants to badly. He says he can't even stay where he is, so he's hiding and keeping out of sight because of the many evils pressing upon him. So I beg you not to act differently because of this place.⁹ But if you try once more to sound out their intention, don't put forward anything yourself; rather, use your good sense to see where they've decided to go—for you can do that. And if you see that it's somewhere nearby—in a coastal city, or in Cyzicus, or near Nicomedia—accept that too. But if it's somewhere farther off—farther than this place, or even as far as this one—don't choose it, since that would be a very heavy burden for me and extremely hard.¹⁰ For the time being we're enjoying a great deal of rest here—so much so that in two days we washed away all the hardship the journey had left us with.