Silas watched as Paul cured the slave girl, never suspecting that such a simple act of kindness would cause so much trouble.  Paul’s frustration had been building over the last few days, so Silas was not surprised when he finally let out his annoyance and cured her.  They were both familiar with the difficult decisions that had to be made when the power of God’s Holy Spirit was available for immediate use.  It was a big responsibility, and Silas was very willing to leave the decision to Paul.  Paul was the leader anyway.

After being cured, the girl at first looked a little lost; as if she had just woken up.  Her owners, waiting at the head of the street, took little notice at the time; they had become used to this daily performance of shouting after Paul and Silas, and found it quite valuable for attracting business to their fortune-telling stall.

Paul and Silas walked on together, out through the city gates to the place of prayer, which was their destination.  The girl walked quietly back along the street with none of the extravagant hand waving, exaggerated head movements and other theatrics that had characterised her actions before Paul had healed her.  Peace now reigned on the street as it had begun to reign in her mind.

The morning activities at the place of prayer began well, with several men and women already waiting eagerly for them to arrive and continue the teaching of the previous day.  Silas greeted them warmly while Paul immediately singled out one of the men and picked up the threads of the last question asked the day before.  The group settled down comfortably together around Paul at the edge of the river while he enthusiastically explained the revelation of Jesus in the prophecies of Isaiah in the Hebrew scriptures.

Silas made sure that everyone was comfortably within earshot and then sat at the edge of the group, watching their faces and interrupting occasionally to explain Paul’s words a bit when any of the audience looked too lost.  Silas enjoyed watching the light of understanding flare in someone’s eyes as a niggling point of confusion found sudden clarity.

Paul was intense; a driven man.  Silas enjoyed his company and found him an inspiring leader.  But Silas contributed in a more relaxed style.  He was not the leader of the small group of believers, but he didn’t want to be either.  A position of second in command suited him much better.

Discussion continued, calm and gentle mostly, but quite fiery at times; knowledge was shared; companionship developed; friendships built.  During a lull in Paul’s rapid-fire exposition, Silas took the opportunity to describe the healing of the young girl that morning.  Someone suggested that they should pray for her, that she would be able to recognise God more clearly now that her mind was less tormented.  Together, they knelt at the riverside, and Silas tried to express the thoughts and wishes of all in prayer to God.

It was Silas who first saw the group of men coming towards them.  They were stopping from time to time, obviously asking questions, and people were answering and giving directions.  Silas turned to watch them and thought he recognised two of them as the owners of the fortune-telling slave girl.  He began to feel some concern, but still sat, waiting.  Paul had his back to them and continued answering a tricky question until he was interrupted.

“That’s them!” said one of the owners, excitedly.

“You’re right,” said the other, truculently, and he stopped and stood defiantly with his hands on his hips.  “Now, see here,” he began, “this trouble you’ve caused today.  What are you going to do to fix it?”

By this time, Paul had turned around to face them.  “What trouble do you mean?” he asked, puzzled.

“You and your religion,” the truculent one responded.  “You Jews aren’t welcome here.  You keep interfering and causing trouble.  Our slave girl was just fine until you interfered.  Now she’s no good for anything.”

“You mean she can’t make you any money now that she’s well?” answered Paul, a little sarcastically.

“Well, how can she?” responded the man.  “She’s lost all of that interesting character she had.  Now she’s just a boring, ordinary slave girl, like thousands of others.  No imagination or fascinating ways.  No opportunities for income now.”

“What was she like when you bought her?” asked Silas.  “Was she alright then or did she get like this later?”

“Don’t you start suggesting that it’s our fault she was like that,” snarled the first owner.

“Well, aren’t you glad she’s normal now anyway?” asked Silas, gently.

“Normal?  What’s the use of normal?  How does that help us?  What use is she now?” shouted the other aggrieved owner, getting angrier with every exchange.

“Surely she can be more useful for God and for society now that she can think straight?” insisted Silas.  It was clear that things were getting out of hand, but maybe some gentle answers could still settle things down.

“You can keep your God for yourself, instead of interfering here,” yelled one, stepping towards Silas, while the other took several steps towards Paul.  “You Jews go all around the world causing trouble, trying to get us Romans to do things that our laws won’t allow.  You’ve ruined our income and now you’re going to pay for it!” he ranted as he grabbed Paul’s cloak.

Their supporters joined in the attack on Paul and Silas and soon the two were being marched back up the hill and in through the city gates, having been struck many times by the men despite their lack of resistance.  Silas was sporting a slightly swollen face that was obviously going to become a black eye.

“Let’s take them to the magistrates, they’ll know how to deal with criminals like these,” said the truculent ringleader.  The others agreed, and Paul and Silas were dragged along the main street by their assailants, with a man hanging on to each arm.

In the marketplace, the magistrates listened to the impassioned arguments of the slave girl’s owners.  These arguments made no mention of the slave girl, instead alleging solely that Paul and Silas had been promoting practices which were illegal for Romans to follow.  The magistrates made no attempt to ascertain whether the claims were true or false, but instead ordered that Paul and Silas be beaten immediately.  Silas was wearing a new-looking tunic and the chief magistrate personally tore it off him and threw it on the ground.  The other magistrates ripped off the remainder of his clothes and pushed him towards one of the lictors before turning their attention to Paul.  Cheers arose from the bloodthirsty crowd as the rods rose and fell rhythmically, with no-one questioning the justice of the punishment they were inflicting.  Paul and Silas were foreigners, so they must obviously be causing trouble!

After many blows had been efficiently applied, the beating stopped, and the bloodthirsty crowd began to move on in the hope of other entertainment elsewhere.

The magistrates directed the lictors to dress the prisoners and take them to the prison.  After a beating like that, having the clothes put on their backs just added to the throbbing agony.  Arriving at the jail, the chief lictor gave the jailer very strict instructions about them.  Thrown ignominiously into the inner prison, they were also locked into the stocks, just to make sure.

Taking the torch with him, the jailer closed the door and locked it, leaving Paul and Silas sitting in the impenetrable darkness.

Exhausted and struggling in a sea of pain, Silas tried to find a way to lie down and rest, but it simply wasn’t possible.  A back so badly bruised and torn could not be rested on the ground, and the stocks allowed limited movement, certainly not the twisting around that would have made it possible to lie on his side or front.  Paul was smaller than Silas and had a little more slack around his ankles in the stocks, but even so, there was no chance of comfort.  Forward or backward, sideways or twisting, there was no way to arrange the tortured body or limbs to permit genuine rest.  The hours dragged, and the pain didn’t seem to lessen.  Talking helped, and at some stage Silas groaned, “If we can’t sleep, let’s sing.  It’ll cover the noise of the rats, too.”

“Alright,” said Paul, “but if we’re going to sing, we have to make it good.  Silence is better than songs of praise that sound like a dirge.”

So they sang.  Ancient Hebrew songs of an age-old faith; new Greek songs reflecting the joy of a new salvation revealed in Jesus. Above all, they sang with a joy of feeling that gave no hint of the suffering that never left them for a moment.  Silas sang with a mellow bass while Paul’s lighter tenor highlighted the happiness of the deliverance the songs recounted.

Their songs echoed through the cells of the prison, spreading a blanket of peace over the troubled souls who listened.