CHAPTER XXIII.
The two young men turned in at a little gateway leading from the street, entered a small court, and climbed a stone stairway that ran up the outside of the building to the roof. A booth of four upright poles, covered with brush and leaves, made a shelter from the noon sun that was beating hot upon the stone parapets. The repast showed that Manasseh was as free in living as he was in thinking. The richest condiments and wines of various vintages were used in a familiar manner, and evinced that Manasseh was in no need of instruction in the art of feasting from even the travelled Marduk.
The perfect day overhead, the magnificent landscape of the hills roundabout Jerusalem, a Samaritan banner far off towards the north, which waved its harmless defiance to the streamers that floated from the hundreds of booths in the Valley of Jehosaphat and on the slopes of Olivet—and perhaps the generous flow and mixture of wines—warmed the hearts of the young feasters into familiarity and confidence.
"Manasseh, you would make a superb high priest, only your Urim and Thummim should have, instead of the twelve stones for the tribes of Israel, seventy gems for all the rest of the heathen world, for whom, I understand, you offer seventy bullocks during this festival. Now, I am in the merchandise business, and can trick you out with them. But I am afraid these stiff Jews will never give you the breastplate, unless you repent. Tell me frankly why you show so much heat about the Jews not being allowed to marry foreign wives. Your blood is clear enough from Aaron."
"I stand for the principle of the thing, Marduk."
"That is good," replied the Phœnician. "But perhaps you would like a heathen girl thrown in along with the principle, as this good Bethlehem wine is spiced with something that grew in Arabia. A handsome fellow like you, who goes prowling about among the Samaritans, must have seen fairer flesh than is caged in Jerusalem. I suspect that some Moabitish Ruth, like the one your great Boaz married, has tempted your patriotism. Eh? Or some Egyptian, like the priest's daughter your mighty Moses picked up? Why not start a harem of beauties, as Solomon did? Come now, tell me your secret—for you show no such gall about any other subject."
Manasseh got up, walked to the parapet and leaned over, as if searching for his answer in the stony street below. Coming back to the booth, he slapped Marduk on the shoulder, with—
"Well, since you have guessed, I will confess it. And, Marduk, to be bold about it, you can help me."
"I? Why, of course I can. I have decked out many a maiden, and can present you yours in all the elegance of the Queen of Sheba, who, you say, fell in love with that other gay Jerusalemite, King Solomon. What will you have? Pearls from the lands beyond the Euphrates? Diamonds that were once in the crown of Kassandane, the blind queen of Cyrus the Great? Silks from Damascus, dyed in the purple of Tyre? Ointments and perfumes of the newest fashion in Athens? Give me your list."
"I wish I could buy these," said Manasseh. "But you forget that we Jews did not steal the treasury of Darius, when we came back from Babylon. Yet there is something more valuable than any of these I would get first."
"Why, what an ambitious fellow you are! I have mentioned the rarest trinkets in the world. What more would you have? Name the article: I will try to get it."
"Agreed! get out your tablets."
"Agreed! what is it?"
"I want the girl."
"Ho! ho!" laughed Marduk. "Your love is like heat-lightning; it has flashed, but struck nothing. You would like me to bring you a statue, such as one of our Tyrian kings made, which was of such marvellous beauty that it came to life, and jumped into his arms."
"No," said Manasseh, "mine has life, but I cannot get her into my arms."
"Hum-m-m!" ejaculated Marduk, taking his turn in walking to the parapet and looking over.
He brushed some troubled wrinkles from his brow as he turned towards his friend. He slapped Manasseh on the shoulder.
"I will do it, if possible," said he.
Manasseh had closely watched Marduk's action, and baited a question with a similar suspicion.
"Would you not like me to help you? I have wondered what led a thriving merchant like you to go through our land; for our people are too poor to buy your wares. Some Jewish maiden? Eh? Let's make a compact. I will help you to yours, if you will help me to mine. There is lawful precedent for your marrying a woman of my race. In our annals we read that when King Solomon would build the temple, King Hiram of Tyre sent him a famous artisan, who was also named Hiram—for it seems that half the babies of your town are called by that name: I wonder how you escaped the common title—and this workman, Hiram, was the son of a Tyrian man by a Jewish woman. And here is Tobiah, the Satrap of the Ammonites, who is now honored with rooms in our temple, much to the grievance of Ezra. He married the daughter of one of our best citizens, Shechaniah. So tell me the dove that you are swirling through our skies to pounce upon, and I will help you in any honorable way. If Nehemiah should return, he could not forbid your marriage. All he could do, if by any means he acquired the power he aims at, would be to drive you from the city. But if you can help me to the possession of my dove, I can offer you a royal refuge, for I shall have a power that even the Tirshatha could not long dispute."
"Oh! I see it all," said Marduk, "you would be son-in-law to Sanballat of Samaria. But do you have the heart of the maiden? Indeed, have you ever seen her? She is reputed to be of queenly beauty, but of an untamed Moabitish spirit. Woe to you if you catch a tigress for her spots!"
"Seen her? Ah, my dear friend, when you go to see her on my behalf you will not need to tell my name, but just let her look into your eyes. She will see me pictured there by your very thought of me. Seen her? Ay, by daylight, and moonlight, and, best of all, by eyelight, when our lashes touched. There are exits from Jerusalem that few know, and I have more than once been reported sick in my chamber, when I was in the tent of Sanballat."
"Say no more," said Marduk. "I will help you to a soft place in the Samaritan's palace, and to the soft arms of the fair Nicaso: and you will help me—if I want you to?"
"It is agreed," eagerly cried Manasseh. "Bring out the parchments."
"No, we will not write it, lest the flies read it and buzz it into the ears of men."
"Crack a stone then, and each carry a half, in pledge that each will fit himself into the other's plans, as one part of the stone fits into the other."
A broken bit from the stone parapet that surrounded the roof was cracked in two. Each placed a piece in his wallet, and, with many wishes for mutual success, the young men parted.