“She was here but a moment ago, noble lady,” replied the maid, who had followed her mistress with a fan of peacock’s feathers and an armful of embroidered pillows. “I will call Oonah.”
But neither Oonah nor the child were anywhere to be found, and after a little the princess began her repast with frowning brows. “There is too much noise about the place,” she observed in a displeased tone, as she tasted a silver fig smothered in wine and spices.
The servants glanced at one another with lifted brows. “It cannot be helped, honorable mistress,” ventured one of them, a young Greek lad, beautiful as a creation of Praxitiles in his short tunic bordered with blue. “All the loud-mouthed Jews of the city, it would seem, [pg 152]headed by their priests, are surrounding the judgment-seat before the palace. The guard would not have admitted them; but my lord, the governor, ordered it.”
“He could not do otherwise,” said the lady, with a slight curl of her haughty lip. “But what is it that they are saying over and again? ’Tis a horrid sound, like the cry of wolves hungering after their prey.”
Again the servants exchanged half-frightened glances, and again the beautiful young Greek answered his lady. “’Tis a custom in this Jerusalem for the governor to release a prisoner at feast time,” he said in a low voice. “Perchance, the people are demanding this pledge from the illustrious Pilate.”
The lady’s face cleared. “Ah, it is so,” she cried; “I remember how it befell last year. My lord will release to [pg 153]them the Nazarene, who is called Jesus. Is it not so, Diomed?”
The Greek hesitated, and in the moment of silence the child, Felicia, closely followed by her nurse, rushed into the garden. Her golden hair was disordered, and her blue eyes reddened with angry tears. “They shall not scourge the boy!” she cried, stamping her small foot. “I have said it; but that stupid, wicked Marcus declares that he will do it. Wilt thou not send for him, mother, and cause him to be punished for disobeying me?”
The princess turned her eyes severely upon Oonah. “Where hath the child been, and what is all this about Marcus? What has happened?”
Oonah trembled under the cold looks of her mistress. “’Tis the beggar boy again,” she faltered. “He was beating [pg 154]upon the door of the outer court like a mad thing, and demanding speech with your highness. But, of course, Marcus—”
“Marcus is a beast—an animal!” again interrupted Felicia passionately. “Listen to me, princess, I can explain everything far better than this stupid Oonah. Dost thou not remember the beggar lad whose eyes were restored by a King named Jesus? I brought him to this very spot two—three days ago. The boy amused me with his story. But Oonah thrust him forth because—”