“Surely have they,” exclaimed Mariamne, with kindling eyes, “and none to help them; none to show them so much as a glimpse of the true light. These men go out to die as the citizen goes to his business or his bath; and who is answerable to man for their blood? who is answerable to God for their souls?”
His eye brightened while she spoke, and he raised his head like a soldier who hears the trumpet summoning him to the front.
“If I have a well in my court,” said he, “and a man fall down and die of thirst at my gate, who is answerable? Surely I am guilty of my brother’s blood, that I never so much as reached him the pitcher to drink. Shall these men go down daily to death, and shall I not stretch out a finger lest they perish everlastingly? Mariamne, it seems there is a task set to my hand, and I must accomplish it.”
She was far from wishing to hinder him. Actuated as human nature too often is by mixed motives, she could yet respond, in her womanly generosity of heart, to that noble self-sacrifice which was so distinguishing a characteristic of the new religion; and could appreciate the devotion of Calchas, while she hoped through his intervention to obtain some alleviation of her anxiety on Esca’s behalf. She had caught a glimpse of the slave’s figure that very day as it entered the portals of the training-school; and this rapid glance had not served to quiet her misgivings on his account.
If Calchas should now think it right to interest himself about a class of men the most reckless and desperate of the whole Roman population, it was probable that he would at the same time learn something of Esca’s movements; perhaps be able to dissuade him from joining the fierce band in which she now feared he was about to be enrolled. “It may be that he has some wild hope of thus obtaining his liberty,” thought the girl; and her heart throbbed while she reflected that it was for her sake liberty had now become so dear to the barbarian. “It may be that he has extorted some vague promise from his lord, and, in his pride of strength and courage, he never dreams of danger or defeat; but oh! if he [pg 134]should come to harm for my sake, what will become of me? I would rather die a thousand times than that his white skin should be disfigured with a scratch!”
“They are practising for their deadly pastime in the next street,” said she; “I can hear the blows as I go down to draw water. Blows dealt, as it were, in sport; what must they be in earnest?”
“There is no time to be lost,” said Calchas. “The games of Ceres are to be soon celebrated, and the Roman crowd will think it but a poor show if some hundreds of gladiators are not slaughtered at the least. Child, I will visit these men to-morrow; they will revile me, but after a time they will listen. If I can even gain over one, be he the lowest and most degraded of the band, it will be a triumph greater than a thousand victories; a gain infinitely more precious than all the treasures of Rome.”
“To-morrow may be too late,” she returned, moving across the room at the same time so as to hide her face. “The school is full to-day. I—I think I saw that barbarian who was here lately go into it an hour or two ago.”
“The Briton!” exclaimed Calchas, starting from his seat. “Why did you not tell me so before? Quick, girl, fetch me my gown and sandals. I will go there without delay.”
She helped him, nothing loth. In a few minutes Calchas was ready to go forth, and as she watched him from the door, and saw him turn the corner of the street, Mariamne clasped her hands and muttered a thanksgiving for the success of her well-meant artifice; while the old man strode boldly to his destination, confident in the integrity of his purpose, and rejoicing in the breastplate of proof which covers a good heart bound on a pious mission. “It is no business of mine,” was a maxim unknown to the early Christian. Fresh in his memory was the parable of the Good Samaritan; and it never occurred to him that, like the Pharisee, he might pass by on the other side. The world is some centuries older, yet is that tale of the friendless wounded wayfarer less suggestive now than it was then?