CHAPTER XVII
A WORD IN SEASON
The summer waxed over Egypt. The Delta, back from the yellow plain which fronted the sea, was in full flower of the wheat. The happy fellahs lay under the shade of dom-palms and drowsed the morning in and the sunset out, for there was nothing to do since Rannu of the Harvests had laid her beneficent hand upon the fields. Across the Mediterranean, nearer the snows, the wheat flowered later and the Feast of Flora held in celebration of the blossoming fields would arrive with the new moon. Egypt could have given her celebration in honor of Flora weeks earlier, but she preferred to wait for Rome.
These were not uneventful days in the alabarch's house, for Cypros, with Drumah at her feet, fashioned with her own hands Agrippa's wardrobe and prepared for his departure, while the prince idled about the alabarch's garden, apparently oblivious to the call of his need to go to Rome, in his enjoyment of Junia's fellowship. And Marsyas, daily more grave, gazed at him askance and furthered the plans for the trip, tirelessly.
His patience might have continued unworn, but for a single incident.
Late one night, when oppressed by the crowding of his unhappy thoughts, he arose from his bed to walk the streets in search of composure, and, descending into the darkness of the alabarch's house, he heard the doors swing in softly. Expecting robbers, or at least a servant returning by stealth from a night's revel, he stepped down into the gloom and waited till the intruder should pass.
Softly the unknown approached and laid hand on the stair-rail to ascend. At the second step the figure was between him and the window lighting the stairs. Against the lesser darkness and the stars without, he saw Lydia's outlines etched. Noiselessly, she passed up and out of hearing.
In his soul, he knew that she had been to the Nazarenes!
"To-morrow," he said grimly to himself, "I prepare the prince's ship! There passes a stiff-necked sacrifice to Saul of Tarsus, unless I can bring him low!"
The next morning, Justin Classicus received a letter, by a merchant ship from Syria. He retired into his chamber and read it:
"O Brother," it said, "that dwelleth among the heathen, this from thy friend who envieth thy banishment:
"I delayed opening thy letter three days, believing it to come from him who lined my threadbare purse while in Alexandria, asking usury, long since due, but at the end of that time, I received his letter of a surety. So I made haste to open thy slandered missive, and greater haste to answer it by way of propitiation.
"I read much of thy letter with astonishment, some of it with rancor, some with congratulation. By Abraham's beard, it is almost as good to be fortunate as it is to be single; wherefore in answer to thine only question, I say that I am neither. Thus, am I led up to comment on the facts thou offerest me.
"I remember the little Lysimachus, a bit of Ephesian ivory-work, that I augured would go unmarried, seeing that she was so hindered with brains. But naught so good as a dowry to offset the embarrassment of sense in a woman. Prosper, my Classicus! For if thou art the same elegant paganized son of Abraham thou wast in thine old days, thy debts are as many as thy usurers are scarce. Half a million drachmæ; demand no less a dowry than that, my Classicus!
"But here, below, thou writest that which hath cut my limbs from under me and set me heavily and helpless on the carpet! A manumitted slave, a cumbrous yokel of an Essene, hath given thee troublous nights, because the lady's eyes soften in his presence! Thou scented son of Daphne; Athene's darling; Venus' latest joy! To let a Phidian colossus, with a face high-colored like a comic mask, outstrip thee!
"Thou camest upon them once, the lady's hand in his! Again, she stammered under his look! And yet a third time, he wrapped a cloak about her, and lingered getting his arm away! And all these things thou didst suffer and didst take no more revenge than to write thy plaint to me, eight hundred miles away!
"By the philippics of Jeremiah, thou deservest a wife with a figure like a durra loaf, and dowered with nine sisters for thy support!
"Thou opinest in a lady-like way, that he is a Nazarene! Thou addest, with a flurry of spleen, that the proconsul of Egypt hateth him! Thou offerest a womanish suspicion that he fled from difficulty here in Judea! Now, any blind dolt could see substance in this for the overthrow of a rival. Lackest thou courage, Classicus, or hast thou money enough to last thee till thou findest another lady?
"Is it not a sufficient cause against him that he is a Nazarene? Or perchance thou dost not know of them, which astonishes me more, since Pharaoh in the plagues was not more cumbered with flies than the earth is of Nazarenes. But read herein hope, then, against thy suspected rival.
"These heretics are persistent offenders against law and order, rebellious and otherwise unruly. One Pharisee, Saul of Tarsus, proceedeth against them, for the Sanhedrim. Whether he is an instrument of a political party or an immoderate zealot, is not for me to say; perchance he is both. At any rate he rages against the iniquity of the apostasy as a continuing whirlwind. He is not applying his methods locally, only. He reaches into neighboring provinces, and it is his oath to pursue the heresy unto the end of the world and bring back the last to judgment. Vitellius is assisting him in Judea, Herod Antipas in Galilee and Aretas in Syria. I expect hourly to hear that Cæsar hath lent him a strong arm, because the rebels are particularly rabid against Rome.
"Of course, the members of the congregation are divided, but thou knowest that even a small number of zealous defenders of the faith can set a whole Synagogue by the ears. Even so tepid a Jew as I should not care to rub shoulders with a Nazarene.
"Do I give thee life, O languid lover?
"Of thyself, I would hear more and oftener. Await not the rising of a new rival to write to me. Fear not; I shall not ask to borrow money of thee—until thou hast wedded the Lysimachus.
"All thy friends in Jerusalem greet thee. Be happy and be fortunate. Thy friend,
"PHILIP OF JERUSALEM."
At this point Classicus composedly doubled the parchment, broke it lengthwise and cross-wise and clapped his hands for a slave. A Hebrew bondman appeared.
"This for the ovens," said Classicus, handing it to him.
When the servant disappeared, the philosopher descended into his house and was dressed for a visit. An hour before the noon rest, he appeared in the garden of the alabarch.
There he found Lydia and Junia, Agrippa, Cypros, the alabarch and Flaccus, idly discussing the day's opening of the Feast of Flora. He had given and received greetings and merged his interests in the subject, when Marsyas appeared in the colonnade. He had taken off the kerchief usually worn about the head, and carried it on his arm. As he passed the spare old alabarch, the heavy purple proconsul and the exquisite Herod, not one of the guests there gathered but made successive comparisons between him and the others. Junia gazed at him steadily, under half-closed lids, but Lydia followed him with a look, half-sorrowful, half-happy, and wholly involuntary.
Cypros glanced at his flushed forehead and damp hair.
"Hast thou been into the city?" she asked with sweet solicitude.
"To the harbor-master," he answered, "I have been making ready thy lord's ship."
Agrippa overheard the low answer, and turned upon him irritably.
"I have said that I do not depart until after the Feast of Flora," he remarked.
"The men of the sea do not expect fair winds before three days," Marsyas replied, "wherefore we must abide until after the Feast."
"But my raiment is not prepared," Agrippa protested.
"Thou goest hence, my lord, to Rome, to be dressed by the masters of the science of raiment," Marsyas assured him.
Classicus raised his head and addressed to the Essene the first remark since the memorable night of Marsyas' arrival in Alexandria.
"What a game it is," he opined amiably, "to see thee managing this slippery Herod!"
Agrippa flushed angrily, but Marsyas did not await the retort.
"My brother's pardon," he said, "but the Herod has fine discrimination between cares becoming his exalted place, and the labors of a steward."
Agrippa's face relaxed, but Classicus broke off the swinging end of a vine that reached over his shoulder and slowly pulled it to pieces.
Junia sitting next to Marsyas turned to him.
"So thou wilt follow Flora?" she asked.
"No."
"Why?" she insisted, smiling. "Thou must go to Rome, where Flora runs every day. Wilt thou turn thy back upon Egypt's joy and see only Italy's?"
"Is Rome so much worse than Alexandria?"
"Not worse; only more pronounced. There is more of Rome; the world gets its impulse there. So much is done; so many are doing. And, by the caprice of the Destinies, thou art to see Rome more than commonly employed."
"How?" he asked. By this time, the others were talking and the two spoke unheard together.
"Hist! I tell it under my breath, because the noble proconsul is burdened with the great responsibility of declaring the emperor's deathlessness, and I would not contradict him aloud. But Tiberius is old, old—and Rome casts about for his successor. But chance hath it that interest hath uncoupled the two eyes so that the singleness of sight is divided. 'Look right,' saith one; 'look left,' saith the other, and each looking his own way reviles his fellow and creates disturbance in the head. But it behooves thee, gentle Jew, to bid thine eyes contemplate Tiberius, to do oriental obeisance and say as the Persians say; 'O King, live for ever!"
"But yesterday, thou didst cast a kindly light over the world's hardness. Tear it not away thus soon and frighten me with the fierce power against which I must shortly go and demand tribute," he protested lightly.
She took down her arms, clasped back of her head, to look at him.
"Light-hearted eremite!" she chid. "Never a Jew but believed that all the happenings in the world happen in Jerusalem—that there is nothing else to come to pass after Jerusalem's full catalogue of possibilities is exhausted. But I tell thee that, compared to Rome, Jerusalem is an unwatered spot in the desert where once in a century a loping jackal passes by to break its eventlessness."
"Lady," he said with his old gravity, "Judea is a Roman province. Is Rome harsher to her citizens than she is with her subjugated peoples?"
"Thou art nearer the executive seat; under the eye of Power itself. Icarus, on his waxen wings, was unsafe enough in the daylight; but he was undone by soaring too close to the sun!"
"What shall I do, then?" he asked.
"Attach thyself to a power; get behind the buckler of another's strength!"
"Power is not offering its protection for nothing; what have I to give in exchange for it?"
Almost inadvertently, she let her eyes run over him, and seemed impelled to say the words that leaped to her lips. But she recovered herself in time.
"It is a generous world," she said, "and such as thou shall not go friendless; depend upon it!"
When Marsyas glanced up, his eyes rested on Lydia's, and for a moment he was held in silence by the faint darkening of distress that he saw there. Something wild and sweet and painful struggled in his breast and fell quiet so quickly that he sat with his lips parted and his gaze fixed until the alabarch's daughter dropped her eyes.
"I heard thee speak of Rome," she said. "After thy labor is done, wilt thou remain there?"
"No," he answered slowly, "I return to En-Gadi."
"En-Gadi," Junia repeated. "Where is that and why shouldst thou go there?"
"It is the city of the Essenes, a city of retreat. It is in the Judean desert on the margin of the Dead Sea."
"After Rome, that!" Junia cried.
But Lydia said nothing and Marsyas, gazing at her in hope of discovering some little deprecation, some little invitation to remain in the world, forgot that the Roman woman had spoken.
Classicus, who had been a quiet observer of the few words spoken between the Essene and the alabarch's daughter, drew himself up from his lounging attitude.
"To En-Gadi?" he repeated, attracting the attention of the others, who had not failed to note his sudden interest in Marsyas. "Why?"
"I am an Essene fallen into misfortune; but once an Essene, an Essene always," Marsyas answered.
"An Essene?" the philosopher observed. Then after a little silence he began again.
"In Alexandria, we live less rigorously than in Judea, even too little so, we discover at times. Wherefore it is needful that we watch that no further lapse is made, which will carry us into lawlessness."
"Ye are lax, yet wary that ye be not more lax?" Marsyas commented perfunctorily.
"Even so. From Agrippa's lips, we learn that thou hast led a precarious life of late; an eventful, even adventurous life: that thou hast been accused and hast escaped arrest. Thou wilt pardon my familiarity with thine own affairs."
"Go on," said Marsyas.
"In Alexandria—even in Alexandria, of late, the Jews have resolved not to entertain heretics—"
"In Alexandria, the extreme ye will risk in hospitality is one simply accused."
"I commend thy discernment. But we separate ourselves from the convicted."
"So it is done in Judea. But continue."
Classicus waited for an expectant silence.
"Thou carryest about thee," he said, "an emblem which none but a Nazarene owns."
Marsyas contemplated Classicus very calmly. He had been accused of apostasy before, but by one whose every impulse had root in irrational fanaticism. He had not expected this Romanized Jew to become zealous for the faith; instead, he knew that Classicus would have pursued none other for suspicion, but himself. Why?
He glanced at Lydia. Alarm and protest were written on every feature. Classicus saw that she was prepared to defend Marsyas and his face hardened. Then the Essene understood!
A flush of warm color swept over his face.
Without a word he put his hand into his robes and drew forth and laid upon his palm the little cedar crucifix.
Cypros uttered a little sound of fright; Agrippa whirled upon Marsyas with frank amazement on his face. After a moment's intent contemplation of the Essene's face, Junia settled back into her easy attitude and smiled.
Lydia sprang up; yet before the rush of precipitate speech reached her lips, there came, imperative and distinct, Marsyas' telepathic demand on her attention. Tender but commanding, his dark eyes rested upon her.
"Thou shall not betray thyself for me!" they said. "Thou shalt not bring sorrow to thy father's heart and disaster upon thy head! Thou shalt keep silence, and permit me to defend thee! I command thee; thou canst do naught else but obey!"
She wavered, her cheeks suffused, and her eyes fell. When she lifted them again, they were flashing with tears. A moment, and she slipped past her guests into the house.
The alabarch broke the startled silence; he had turned almost wrathfully upon Classicus.
"It seems," he exclaimed, "that thou hast needlessly broadened thine interests into matters which once did not concern thee!"
"Good my father," Classicus responded, "thou hast lost two sons already to idolatry and false doctrines. And thy lovely daughter, thou seest, is no more secure from the seductions of an attractive apostasy than were they!"
"Well?" Marsyas asked quietly.
"It is not needful to point the man of discernment to his duty," Classicus returned.
"Methinks," said Marsyas, rising, "that the sharp point of a pretext urges me out of Alexandria, as it did in Judea. Thou hast had no scruples," he continued, turning to Agrippa, "thus far in accepting the companionship of an accused man, so I do not expect to be cast off now."
"But," Agrippa protested, stammering in his surprise and perplexity, "acquit thyself, Marsyas. Thou art no Nazarene!"
"No charge so light to lift as this, my lord," Marsyas answered. "Yet even for thy favor I will not do it!"
Agrippa looked doubtful, and the alabarch exclaimed with deep regret:
"What difficulty thou settest in the way of my debt to thee! Thou, to whom I owe my daughter's life!"
"Yet have a little faith in me," Marsyas said to him. "And for more than I am given lief to recount, I am thy debtor!"
He put the crucifix into the folds of his garments.
"I am prepared to go to Rome, even now," he added to Agrippa.
"But—I would stay until after the Feast of Flora," the prince objected stubbornly.
Cypros was breaking in, affrightedly, when Flaccus interrupted.
"Come! come!" he said, with a bluff assumption of good nature. "Thou art not banished from the city, young man! I am legate over Alexandria, and a conscienceless pagan, wherefore thou hast not offended my gods nor done aught to deserve my disfavor. Get thee down to Rhacotis among thy friends—or thine enemies—till the Herod hath diverted himself with Flora, and go thy way to Rome! What a tragedy thou makest of nothing tragic!"
"O son of Mars," Marsyas said to himself, "I do not build on finding asylum there. Never a pitfall but is baited with invitation!"
But Cypros turned to the proconsul, her face glowing with thankfulness under her tears.
"Is it pleasing to thee, lady?" the proconsul asked jovially.
"Twice, thrice thou hast been my friend!" she cried.
"I shall go," said Marsyas. "Remember, my lord prince, these many things which I and others suffer add to the certainty that thou shalt be called to pay my debt against Saul of Tarsus, one day! Three days hence, thou and I shall sail for Rome!"
He saluted the company and passed out of the garden.
"Perchance," said Flaccus dryly, with his peculiar aptitude for insinuation, "an officer should conduct him to this nest of apostates."
"He will go, never fear!" Cypros declared, brushing away tears.
"By Ate! the boy is spectacular," Agrippa vowed suddenly. "He is no Nazarene! I know how he came by that unholy amulet. It is a relic of that young heretic friend of his, whom they stoned in Jerusalem!"
But Junia found immense amusement in that surmise. Presently, she laughed outright.
"O Classicus, what a blunderer thou art! Right or wrong, thou hast brought down the ladies' wrath, not upon the comely Essene, but upon thine own head for abusing him!"