Then he turned to summon a servant, to whom he gave direction and with whom Lysias rode into the camp, wondering much at his good fortune at such an hour.
"This is of Mercurius," he thought. "I have ever thought well of him, and my father was once a priest of his temple at Corinth; the god hath now remembered me. To him I owe my prosperity upon this journey, and he did not favor the thieves as is his wont."
The ass had been hard ridden, but seemed not much the worse for it. Water and grain were brought to him, and Lysias, also, ate and drank. More time went by than he had expected before a soldier came to summon him to the camp gate.
"Saddle and mount!" said the soldier. "The hand of the procurator is heavy."
No answer might be made except to obey, and shortly the young Greek was at the gate.
"Kill not thy beast, lest thou fail of thy errand," said the eagle-faced commander. "Take thou this letter to the captain of the Damascus gate at Jerusalem. This also, and this. He will further deliver them. Abide thou with him until he give thee answers. Bring them to me."
Few and brief had been his questionings of the young Greek, the pupil of Gamaliel. He was but a tool, an instrument, intelligent, sufficient, sure to serve well because of the scourge or the sword, or of reward. So rule the Romans, and they who receive orders from a Roman general hesitate not to obey.
Silently sat Lysias until the procurator ceased speaking and motioned with his hand. Then, as if of his own accord, the ass went forward. Therefore Lysias had become a royal messenger, whom all men would be eager to speed upon his way, for the fear of Pontius went with him.
"Mercurius!" he shouted, at a goodly distance from the camp. "Better to me art thou than is Jupiter. Now may Venus, also, be my aid if it be true that my Sapphira was sold into the household of this bloody one. O that I might send an arrow into his heart and a flame into his dwelling! But I will not fail of the due delivery of his messages. Who knoweth to what the gods may have destined me? Soon will all the Saxons perish and no man then will know the manner of my coming into Syria. Sapphira! Sapphira! O swift beast! O Venus, goddess of love! Let me go on to Jerusalem that I may once more look into her eyes and hear her voice and touch her hand. She shall not be for another, but for me, for the gods have favored me greatly!"