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that I was able to stop worrying about my safety or where he was taking me. Clearly this was of God. He had a plan. Escape had been my aim. Hours into this miraculous flight I was devoid of concern and only looked forward to whatever destination He had in mind.
    It struck me that I had actually slept, unaware of how long, and had not suffered from the chill of the black night. Theo’s gait never waned, even when I felt the softening of the earth, breathed in moist air, and realized he was kicking sand in high plumes behind us. He had set his nose on a direct route about twenty feet from the edge of the Red Sea, heading due south.
    When the western horizon to my right began to lighten to the faintest pastels, I comprehended that the magnificent animal had been at this for more than ten hours. How long would he go? How far might he take me in the light and heat of the day? Still I felt no discomfort, no hunger, no call of nature, no fatigue. Whatever God was doing, He had imbued us both with ceaseless power.
    A dozen Roman cavalrymen, swords drawn and standard flapping, surged from a thicket of trees about forty yards to my left. They galloped directly into my path and stopped in a line, anchored at the middle by a taut, wiry, gray-haired man, the reins of a white stallion in one fist and the other raised over his head.
    â€œHalt in the name of the emperor!” he thundered. “Saul of Tarsus?”
    Hopelessly outnumbered, I yanked Theo’s mane to stop him and trusted God to protect me. But my horse was having none of this! He slowed not a whit but flew between the man and his number two as I yelled, “Whoa! Whoa!”
    â€œI am General Decimus Calidius Bal—after him!”
    Now I was torn. A Roman citizen, I fully intended to obey a general who knew my name, yet my horse had already proven to be under the authority of the creator God. His response to my commands was to sprint, and I was tempted to urge him on.
    Clearly, this general’s horses were also thoroughbreds, as his garrison quickly drew alongside Theo.
    â€œAre you Saul of Tarsus?” he called out.
    There was no point in pretending otherwise. “I am!”
    â€œI am General Decimus Calidius Balbus, ordering you to halt in the name of the emperor!”
    Again I pulled on Theo’s mane and shouted, “Whoa!” And again my horse ignored me.
    I smiled apologetically at the general and shrugged. He did not appear amused. “Stop that horse or you’ll both suffer the consequences!”
    I went through the motions again, to no avail.
    The general drew his sword and swung mightily at my neck. I ducked, and the blade caught Theo just below his left ear, drawing blood, making him skid to a stop, wheel around, and rear, front hooves flailing at the general, whose own horse whinnied and shied while the others surrounded us.
    â€œYou’re under arrest!” General Balbus shouted, and I resisted the urge to respond,
It doesn’t appear so
.
    Theo continued to thrash until he spied an opening in the circle of armed horsemen and dashed away again, the Romans in pursuit. I merely hung on, shrugging at General Balbus’ threats as he and his men stayed a few feet off Theo’s heels for nearly twenty more minutes. I reached to feel the wound above the patch of drying blood only to find no opening in the skin. I caressed the coarse hide and the blood flaked away.
    As had been the case since we’d left Damascus, Theo never slowed. Occasionally I peeked back at Roman horses foaming with sweat, mouthsagape and gasping. Gradually the soldiers fell off the pace, drifting farther and farther back, the general’s voice growing fainter, though his threats sounded no less passionate. Theo edged closer to the water where he kicked up wet sand and gentle waves covered our tracks.
    When I no longer heard hoofbeats behind us, I looked to find that Balbus and his men had dismounted and huddled in a circle. But the