"Stay thy hand a moment," and Claudia touched the sleeve of Pilate lightly as she spoke.
"What meanest thou?"
"Drink thou to Rome, my lord—but not Rome forever."
"What meanest thou?" he repeated.
"In days long gone before Romulus had found the lair of the she-wolf, there lived seers who foretold a king whose kingdom would be greater than that of Caesar."
"Claudia hath been filching cups, methinks," Pilate said, joining in the laughter of the Senators. "Another king than Caesar? As the mighty Tiberius would do to a worm that should raise its head from the dust to sting his heel, so will the mighty Caesar do to him whose voice be lifted against the empire. My fair Claudia, thy brain is addled. Here's to thee, my love, here's to our guests, the Senators, and here's to Rome—Rome forever! On with the dance!"
CHAPTER XII
ON THE ROOF
The Day of Atonement had just passed and throughout Palestine great preparations were being made for the Feast of Tabernacles, for the harvest yield had been rich. Beginning with the fruits of the oleaster and white mulberry in the early season, the ingathering of wheat, of almonds and Beyrout honey, of apples and apricots and corn, of grapes and of figs, of maize and of pomegranates and dates, of olives and walnuts, had taken place as the months passed, and now from the northern bounds of Galilee to the southern edge of Judea and from Peraea to the sea, pilgrims were ready to set forth with their first-fruits to be offered in the Temple. The vineyards and olive orchards of Lazarus had yielded bountifully, and the laborers had been accounted worthy of their hire and generously paid.
Martha had been busy putting in her store of corn and wine and now, late on the last day before Atonement was counting her pig skin bottles while Eli cleaned the ashes from the big earthenware oven. "Hath Mary carried the last of her boughs to the housetop?" she questioned, glancing into the court. And without waiting for an answer she continued, "Such a pile of myrtle and olive and palm branches as hath not before been used in an arbor hath Mary dragged up the steps, and made into a bower. Anna doth build her bower in the garden, but not so my sister who will have hers set where she can sit under its roof of leaves and look out over the hills where there are a thousand booths. And with her harp she sings. Listen—but Eli, there is a new skin bottle missing!" and grave concern was in Martha's voice.