Aleph, the Chaldean; or, the Messiah as Seen from Alexandria

by E. F. Burr

Such, for substance, was what Piso said in a much enlarged form. Strong opposition was made to his proposal for postponement by the Malus party; but, after a good deal of mutual consultation on the part of the Prætor and Judges, and, as the day was already far spent, it was at length decided to reserve the decision in hope of additional light on the morrow.

Malus was now thoroughly roused. Under the stolid and uninterpretable exterior with which he retired from the Basilica everything was ablaze—all his shrewdness, all his determination, all his wrath, all his daring. He was a born gambler, and could coolly stake everything on a last throw. To-morrow he must conquer. To-morrow he would conquer. The stars should fulfill themselves by fighting for him. Simon should weave his spells and summon his mightiest spirits all the live-long night in his behalf. But he would not neglect to supplement magic with all the human expedients for winning success. He had prospered so long that he had come to feel that prosperity was both his destiny and his due. He had made people his prey so long that they seemed made to be victimized: he had the right of a fisherman to draw into his net as many fishes as possible by all possible ways and means. He had used the right freely, made many captures, and hitherto had not found a captive large enough to break through his net. He determined that his steady run of good luck should not fail him. He spent the whole night with his lawyer—trying to forecast the course of accusation and evidence which the other party would take, and the best ways of resisting the same. Among these ways he decided should be a more decided and potent invoking of his Roman friends to come to his aid. He thoroughly believed in the venality of every Roman, from the governor downward or upward. Some could be bought for less than others—but all could be bought. Perhaps his hints had not been sufficiently broad: perhaps he had not hinted at sums sufficiently large in the case of some. Now he would mend all that. The governor should have an offer that he could not misunderstand; and one that even a governor would find it worth his while to accept. So of the city Prætor and Judges. Each should have his gratification, and a large one. It would be costly work: but then he could easily and swiftly reimburse himself if his situation could be made secure. Such was his confidence, after all, in the sympathy of the authorities and in the power of money that he was able to face the new day with untrembling nerves, despite the vigils of the night. Had not trusty messengers gone in all directions with instructions to make all sure, sure—regardless of expense?

The Basilica was crowded long before the hour. Malus had with him all his friends of the day before, and, in addition, the leading men of his synagogue. On the other side, besides those of the day before, was a large delegation from the University, with Philo and Cornelius at their head—also a large number of by no means showy people, apparently small traders and shop-keepers, whose “moral support” the students seemed at first inclined to laugh at, but, at a hint from Piso, ended in making much of. Among these last was the Phenician of Chapter Second, sitting between his Cretan oppressor and Malus’s discharged clerk. It is doubtful whether Malus recognized these persons—they were well in the rear; and besides he deigned only a glance at the nobodies, being on the lookout for only somebodies, for people of station and weight and large consideration. Of this class he as yet saw no addition to the other side, save the students; and them he was prepared to see.

It was now almost time for the court to open, when an unusual stir was heard at the main door of the Basilica; and shortly the Governor made his appearance, attended by several sub-officials and supporting his son Sextus. The young man was very pale, leaned hard on his father, and, before he had advanced far, became faint and motioned toward the first vacant seats they came to—which chanced to be on Malus’s side of the house. Accordingly, the party fell in there, and busied themselves in trying most officiously to help the invalid—offering this and that restorative, making this and that inquiry, and generally making him as miserable as they could well do by shutting off from him air and light and quiet.

Malus was overjoyed. Plainly his last move had been a successful one. The powers had at last shown their hand. Now he was sure what the result of the trial would be. He shot a glance of triumph at Piso; and was in the act of rising to go and pay his respects to his excellency and offer his services toward making the sick man still more uncomfortable, when the voice of the crier was heard, loudly demanding order and announcing the opening of the court. He looked at the tribunal. The Prætor and Judges were already in their places. So the best he could do was to throw toward his Roman friends, so opportunely arrived, as much of a mingled look of concern and sympathy and welcome as his wooden face would permit.

According to Roman forms, the advocate of the plaintiff first stated briefly his accusation. Some thirty years ago a merchant from Chaldea visited the city; made Malus his agent for the sale of certain costly goods to be sent to him from time to time; and, from that time to this, made frequent and heavy consignments—at first satisfactorily, but with growing dissatisfaction as the years went on, on account of the smallness of the returns; this smallness being ascribed by Malus partly to losses in transit from shipwreck and robberies, partly to enormous custom-house exactions, and partly to poor markets. Finally, the suspicions of the merchant became so strong that he sent his friend Cimon to Alexandria to make inquiries and to take such action as his representative as should seem fitting. Inquiries had shown that the statements of Malus were false at all points—the receipts which he had given as harbor-master show that all the goods sent have been received in good condition; the registers of the custom house, which his excellency the Governor has allowed to be examined, show that only a part of the goods received have been entered for duty, and that the duty actually paid on the part entered has been far less than reported (as also appears from the testimony of the chief of the custom house): finally, the testimony of the leading houses engaged in the eastern trade, including that of Malus himself, shows that the market price for nearly all the thirty years has been far higher than Malus has reported. Proof of all these statements would be submitted at the proper time. In view of them it appears that Malus is indebted to Cimon, the agent, in the sum of one million gold staters, exclusive of the interest which the law allows in such cases. The Judges could now see why Malus could wish to discredit Cimon as a low criminal and remove both him and his companion from the scene. It was to discredit and, if possible, prevent a suit that threatened him with ruin of both fortune and reputation.

Did the plaintiff accept these statements as correct? Cimon accepted.

Then the advocate of Malus briefly denied the charge, and stated as chief points of the defense—that the harbor-receipts, beyond those for goods actually found registered at the custom house, are forgeries; that what purported to be Malus’s accounts to his Chaldean principal of exorbitant duties and poor markets were also forgeries; that very many of his accounts and remittances had been ignored; that, instead of owing the Chaldean anything, he had dealt with him on a principle of large liberality, and had paid him considerably more than he could equitably claim. He expected to show that his client was the object of a great conspiracy—that people whom nobody knew, whose very names were fictitious, and who certainly had no visible standing and reliability, had conspired to rob and ruin a man of the first standing; and had craftily taken advantage of old feuds and religious differences to secure abettors. The case was really one between the allegations of nobodies and those of a prominent and honored citizen.

Did the defendant accept these statements? Malus accepted.

Here Sextus Flaccus struggled to his feet, and with the help of his father and the well-meant hindrance of the other Romans about him, feebly and slowly made his way to the opposite benches. Malus was yet standing and saw every movement. He had just finished one oath—and he felt like taking another. It was with difficulty that he commanded himself enough to sink quietly into his seat. What could this mean? Had his agents betrayed him? Had the stars, and the magic spells, and the mighty demons, and even Avilleus Flaccus at last failed him? He was almost stunned by the sudden fall from the heights of confidence to the depths of discouragement.