"Might I propose if it be yet too late?"
With timid daring, Shimei inquired.
"A fleet-foot horse should overtake the troop,
If so thou choose, and turn them hither back.
And thou couldst cause that Paul exert his power
To lift this corpse into a living man—
Which were a famous spectacle to see!
Besides that then thou mightst assure thyself,
Through counsel of our Sanhedrim, what crimes
Worthy of death are proved upon this Paul."
"Thou art a superserviceable Jew,"
The chiliarch frowned and said. A choleric man,
He choleric now, through self-expression, grew.
Exasperate thus, he added: "'Ruler' thou
Of thine accurséd nation—as I hear—
Me too thou fain wouldst rule, with thy advice
Officiously advanced unsought. Know, then,
That I confound thee with thy race, and curse
Ye all together, pestilent brood—not less
Thee than thy fellows, whom thou rulest, forsooth,
Worthy to rule those worthily so ruled!
Like ruler to like people, vipers all!
If I believe thee of thy brother Paul,
It is no wise that I suppose thee true
Rather than him; but only that I reckon
One rascal feels another by mere kin,
And can, and, if so be he hates him, will,
Into his own soul look and paint him that—
Making a likeness apt to two at once!
Nay, nay, thou wretched, reptile Jew, all thanks!
I would not have Paul back upon my hands.
I am well rid of him, and now hence thou!
Go tell thy fellow-elders of the Jews
That here Gamaliel lies, dead or aswoon,
And bid them haste to bear him hence away.
Go, not one further word from thy foul mouth,
Lest whole thou never go!"
Red with his wrath,
Abruptly on his heel turned the wroth man
And disappeared within. The Jew so spurned—
Though disappointed, imperturbable—
With wry grimace hugging himself, made speed
To use the freedom thus in overplus
Thrust on him, and incontinently went.
Scarce was he well without the castle gate,
When a brusque message from the chiliarch
Summoned him back. He came, with supple knee
Cringing his thanks and deprecations dumb.
"So act thy abject language, if thou will,
But no word speak, edging thine ear to hear,"
The chiliarch, from his heat of passion passed
To a grim mood of resolution, said;
"I will that—no delay—thou hither bring
Large satisfaction from thy countrymen—
Just measure of their estimate of thee!—
That thou wilt duly bide within command
The suddenest from this castle, and appear,
Whenever I may call for thee, to go
Whithersoever I shall bid thee hence,
Whether to Cæsarea or to Rome,
Whether now presently or hereafter long,
Accuser meet and witness against Paul.
Count it that thou thus much at least hast gained,
Through thy this night's adventure, chance, to wit,
Assuréd chance, thy famished grudge to glut
Upon thy brother rogue and countryman—
Be he, that is, the wretch thou paintest him,
And, mark it well, be thou his overmatch
In lying eloquence to make appear
Likeliest whatever best thy turn shall serve.
Perhaps twin rascals, of each other worthy,
Will, both at once, and each the other, prove
Just to be what they are, and earn their doom!"
"Send with this worthy," thus the chiliarch,
To his centurion turning, said, "some man
Who knows, if nothing more, thus much at least,
How to be adder-deaf and death-like dumb—
To dog him hence about and hither back!"
"I wish thee pleasure of thy evening walk!"
To Shimei, in mock courtesy, he said.
With pleasantry as bitter as his own
The mocker found himself a second time,
And now to discomposure worse, dismissed.
Of his own will he gladly would have gone
From east to west as wide as was the world,
To weave the meshes of his witness false
About Paul's feet, or still to ambush him
With instant bloody death at unawares;
But thus to go, a lasso round his neck
Held in the hand of Rome—it irked him sore.
His heart misgave him heavily; he felt:
'And here perhaps is destiny for me,
Perhaps, who knows? at last, at last, for me!
On mine own head do I Paul's house pull down?'
Strange, but, born with the boding sense thus born
Of unguessed danger for himself, there crept
Into that case-hard heart, long exercised
To plot of mischief for his fellow-man,
A softness, that was nigh become remorse,
A kind of pity from self-pity sprung,
Toward whoso was endangered, yea, even Paul!
It was the slow beginning of an end—
Slow, liable to be quenched like smoking flax,
Yet not so quenched to be—with Shimei.
Meanwhile, from this to that there stretched much road,
And Shimei still had demon's work to do.