Saul of Tarsus: A Tale of the Early Christians

by Elizabeth Miller

"The alabarch, Alexander Lysimachus, is my friend. He is rich; I could borrow of him."

"Take thou my gold and go thither," Marsyas offered at once.

"It is not so easy as it sounds, for the sound of it is most generous and kindly. How am I to get out of Capito's clutches, here?"

Marsyas gazed straight at Agrippa with the set eyes of one plunged into deep speculation. Then he leaned toward the prince.

"Will this gold in all truth help thee to borrow more in Alexandria?"

"I know it!"

"And then what?"

"To Rome! To imperial favor! To suzerainty over Judea!"

Marsyas laid hold on the prince's arm.

"Thou art a Herod," he said intensely. "Ambition natively should be the very breath of thy nostrils. Yet swear to me that thou wilt aspire—aye, even desperately as thy grandsire! Swear to me that thou wilt not be content to be less than a king!"