Scipio then summoned the centurion, who was nominally his second in command. The man was a veteran who had seen more than twenty campaigns—his first experience of war had been at Pydna under the great Æmilius Paullus—an excellent soldier in his way, but without much judgment in matters outside his own narrow sphere of experience.
"Convey," young Scipio said to this officer, "a respectful request to the priest of the temple that he will favour me with an interview."
In due course the priest appeared. It had been arranged between the friends that no reference should be made to the shelter given to the women.
"I am informed," said Scipio, "that you have charge, as priest of this temple, of a certain book relating to agriculture."
"You are right, sir," replied the man, "so far as this: there is such a book, and it is kept in this place; but it is not in my charge. My father is the priest, and it is in his custody."
"Let me see your father, then," said the young officer.
"Unhappily, sir," replied the man, "he is incapable of answering or even of hearing a question. He has been failing in mind for some time, and the events of the last few days have greatly affected him. This morning he had a stroke of paralysis, and has been unconscious ever since."
"But you know," said Scipio, "where the book is?"
"As a matter of fact," the priest answered, "I know, or, to put the matter more strictly, I believe that I know. But the secret has been very jealously guarded. It has been usual for the priest to hand over the charge formally to his successor when he felt himself failing. To meet the case that the priest might die suddenly, or fail for some other reason to communicate the secret in due course, the Shophetim were also in possession of it. They have also another copy of the treatise."