Saul of Tarsus: A Tale of the Early Christians

by Elizabeth Miller

  CHAPTER IV

  THE BANKRUPT

  Somewhat subdued, the man in scarlet walked through the night in theCity of David. After his first sensations he was discomfited.

  "Now this is what comes of the irregular barbarity in Judeanexecutions," he ruminated. "In Rome this Nazarene would have beendespatched in order and his body borne away to the puticuli and noopportunity given for that painful scene outside. Doubtless I shouldhave convinced the young man and borrowed his gold of him, by thistime. Certainly, Fortune is a haughty jade when once offended. But Ishall be fortunate again; by all the gods, Jewish or Gentile, I willcompel her smiles!

  "It would be my luck never to see him again; he will probably lingeronly to see this dead man buried, and go on to En-Gadi, as he said hewould. It would hardly be seemly to approach him about his gold, inhis unhappiness, or I would waylay him, yet. A pest on the zealots!Why did they not hold off this stoning for a day?"

  Moodily occupied by his thoughts, he passed unconscious of the carelesspeople about him. The huge tower of Antonia set on the brink of MountMoriah frowned blackly over the street and in its shadow the idle lifeof the night laughed and reveled and sauntered. The woman of the citywas there, the Roman soldier in armor, the alien that bowed to Brahm orBel, the son of the slow Nile, of the Orontes and of the yellow Tiber.It was not the resort of the lowest classes, but of those that were atvariance with the spirit of the city, or the times and theirphilosophies. Light streamed from open doorways, the wail of lyres andthe jingle of castanets resounded within and without. Now and thenbelated carters, driving slow donkeys, would plod through therevelry--a note of relentless duty which would not be forgotten.Again, humbler folk would retreat into wagon-ways or hug the walls topermit the passage of a Sadducee and his retinue, or a decurion and hissquad--rank and power asserting their inexorable prerogative.

  Presently there approached the click of hoofs upon flagging. Asoldier, passing through a broad shaft of light from a booth, stoppedshort, drew himself up and swung his short sword at present. Up thestreet, from lip to lip of every arms-bearing man, ran his abrupt callto attention.

  A body of legionaries appeared suddenly in the ray of light--brassyshapes in burnished armor, picked for stature and bearing. Not eventhe plunge into blackness again broke the precision and confidence ofthat tread before which the world had fled as did now the mule-ridersand the pedestrians of Jerusalem.

  After them, the beam of light projected two horsemen into sudden view.There was the rattle and ring of saluting soldiers by the way. Theradiance showed up a typical Roman in the armor of a general, but indeference to Israelitish prejudice against images, the eagle wasremoved from his helmet, the bosses of Titan heads from breastplate andharness. This was Vitellius, Proconsul of Syria and the shrewdestgeneral on Caesar's list. By his side rode Herrenius Capito, Caesar'sdebt-collector, a thin-faced Roman in civilian dress, and with theashes of age sprinkled on his hair.

  The man in scarlet took one glance at the gray old countenance frowningunder the sudden light of the lamp and slid into the obscurity of anopen alley at hand. He did not emerge till the hoof-beats had diedaway.

  "So thou comest in search of me, sweet Capito," he muttered, "and I ampenniless. But it is comforting to know that thou hast no more hope ofgetting the three hundred thousand drachmae which I owe to Caesar, than Ihave of paying it!"

  After a little silence, he said further to himself, with added regret:

  "Now, had I that young Essene's gold, Capito would not find me inJerusalem! O Alexandria! I must reach thee, though I turn dolphin andswim!"

  He continued on his way to the north wall, where he found exitpresently into Bezetha, the unwalled suburb of Jerusalem. Here thehouses were comparatively new, less historic, less pretentious thanthose in the old city. Here were inns in plenty, relaxed order and ageneral absence of the racial characteristics and the influence ofreligion. The middle classes of Jerusalem dwelt here.

  It was dark, poorly paved, and the man in scarlet laid his hand on hispurse under his tunic and walked with circumspection toward a khan. Itwas no surprise to him to hear the sounds of struggle and outcry. Hestopped to catch the direction of the conflict that he might avoid it.It came out of a street so narrow, in a district so squalid, thathappiness seemed to have fled the spot. If ever the wealthy enteredthe place, it was to seek out human beings hungry enough to sellthemselves as slaves.

  The commotion centered before a hovel, a tragedy in sounds, ghastlybecause the night made it unembodied. The man in scarlet located it asout of his path and would have continued but for the insistent screamsof a woman in the struggle. Harsh shouts attempted to cry her down,but desperation lent her strength and the suburb shuddered with her madcries.

  The man in scarlet lagged, shook his shoulders as if to throw off theinfluence of the appeal and finally stopped. At that moment severaltorches of pitch, lighted at once, threw a smoky light over the scene.The passage was obstructed by a group of men uniformly dressed, andseveral spectators attracted by the commotion. Assured that this wasarrest and not violence, the curiosity of the man in scarlet drew himthat way. At a nearer view, he saw that the aggressors were Shoterimor Temple lictors, under command of a Pharisee wearing the habilimentsof a rabbi. The man in scarlet identified him as the referee in thecenter of the ring about the stoning. The sudden lighting of thetorches convinced him that the attack had its inception in secret.

  In the center of the fight was a middle-aged woman clinging desperatelyabout the bodies of a young man and a young woman. It was the effortsof the Shoterim to tear her away and her resistance that had made thearrest violent.

  Shouts and revilings told the man in scarlet the meaning of thedisturbance. The ferrets of the High Priest, Jonathan, had discovereda house of Nazarenes and were taking them.

  "More ill-timed zeal!" he muttered to himself. "Or let me be exact:more bloody politics!"

  He had turned to leave when a figure in white, directed from the city,drove past him and through to the center of the crowd, with theirresistible force of a hurled stone. Spectators fell to the right andleft before it and the man in scarlet drawing in a breath of amazementturned to see what the light had to disclose.

  It was the young Essene, hardly recognizable for the distortion ofdeadly hate and passion on his face. There were dark stains on hisgarments and dust on his black hair. Every drop of blood had left hischeeks, but his eyes blazed with a light that was not good to see.

  He went straight at the Pharisee. His grasp fell upon Saul's shoulder,drove in and seized upon its sinews. The startled Tarsian turned andthe young Essene with bent head gazed grimly down at him. Aninterested silence fell over both captor and captive. The blaze in theyoung man's eyes reddened and flickered.

  "I have been seeking thee, Saul of Tarsus," he said in a voice ofdeadly silkiness. "Thou hast been most zealous for the Law inStephen's case. Look to it that thou fail not in the Law, for I shallprofit by thy precept! And even as Stephen fell, so shalt thou fall;even as Stephen came unto death, so shalt thou come! Mark me, andremember!"

  The words were menace made audible; it was more than a threat: it wasprophecy and doom.

  A tingle of admiration ran over the man in scarlet. He who could leavethe bier of a murdered friend to visit vengeance on the head of themurderer was no weakling.

  "A Roman, by the gods!" he exclaimed to himself. "A noble adversary! aman, by Bacchus!"

  A threatening murmur arose from the spectators. But there was noresponsive fury kindled in Saul's eyes. Instead he looked at Marsyaswith unutterable sorrow on his face. Presently his shoulders liftedwith a sigh.

  "The city festereth with Nazarenes as a wound with thorns," he said tohimself; aloud he called, "Joel."

  The Levite materialized out of obscurity and bowed jerkily.

  "Bear witness to this young man's behavior. Lictors, take him. Weshall hold him for examination as a Nazarene and an apostate."

  Mar
syas started and his hand dropped. Plainly, he had not expected tobe accused of apostasy. But the old mood asserted itself.

  "This for thy slander of Stephen in the college," he said withpremonitory calm when the Levite approached him, and struck withterrific force. The Levite's body shot backward and dropped heavily onthe earth. The rest of the lictors precipitated themselves upon theyoung man, and, in desperation and in fury, the one man and the numbersfought.

  Meanwhile the man in scarlet thought fast. His Roman love of defianceand war had roused in him a most compelling respect for the youngEssene, but cupidity put forth swift and convincing argument evenbeyond the indorsement of admiration. If the Shoterim took the youngman in ward, he would be executed and the treasure come into the handsof the state for disposition. In view of the fact that HerreniusCapito had traced the bankrupt to Jerusalem, Jerusalem was no longertenantable for the bankrupt. He had to have money to escape toAlexandria and the Essene was too profitable a chance to be lost to themurdering hands of fanatics.

  Excited and bent only on preventing the arrest, the man sprang into thecrowd and forced his way to the Essene's side. But the next instant healso was sent reeling by a blow delivered by Marsyas in his blindresolution not to be taken without difficulty. Before the bankruptcould recover, the united force of spectators and lictors flung itselfupon Marsyas.

  Steadying himself, the man in scarlet urged his bruised brain to think.Half of his life for a ruse! for nothing but a ruse could save theyoung man, now.

  Then, with a half-suppressed cry of eagerness, the bankrupt took to hisheels and ran toward the city as only an Arab trained in Roman gymnasiacould run.

  The sentry at the gate passed him and he entered on the marblepavements of the streets for the finest exhibition of speed he hadshown since he had carried off the laurel in Rome. He knew the city asa hare knows its runways. He cut through private passages, circledwatchful constabulary, eluded congestions, and took the quick slopes ofJerusalem's hills as though the deep lungs of a youth supplied him.

  When the broad, marble-paved street, which let in some glimpse of thestarry sky upon the passer, opened between the rich residences of theSadducees, the white luster of many burning torches lighted an area ona distant slope at its head. The running man sped on, taking the riseof Mount Zion without slackening, until he rushed upon a sentryobscured under the brooding shadow of a heavy wall.

  "Halt!" The challenge of the sentry brought him up.

  "Without the password, comrade," he panted. "Call the officer of theguard. And by our common quarrels in Rome do thou haste, for if I seenot Vitellius and Herrenius Capito this instant I expire!"

  The cry of the sentry passed from post to post until the centurion ofthe guard emerged from a small gate.

  "One cometh without the countersign," the sentry said.

  "A visitor for Vitellius and Herrenius Capito," the bankrupt explained.

  "The general and his guest have retired," was the blunt reply.

  "Hip! but thou art the same glib liar thou always wast, Aulus," thebankrupt laughed. "Take me into the light, and slap me with thy swordif I am frank beyond the privileges of mine acquaintance with thee!"

  The gate-keeper, in response to a short word from the dubious Aulus,let down the chains with a rattle and a small side portal swung in,revealing an interior of semi-dusk.

  The centurion conducted his visitor within. Torches stuck in sconceshigh up in the walls lighted a quadrangle of tessellated pavement,terminating distantly in banks of marble stairs of such breadth andstature that their limits were lost in the unilluminated night.

  After a quick glance, the centurion started and slapped his helmet insalute to the bankrupt. The other responded with a skill and gracethat could not have been assumed for the moment. The dexterity of thecamp was written in the movement.

  "I am expected of Capito," the bankrupt said, which was true only in avery limited sense.

  "I know, and do thou follow. Thou shalt see him. Were he dead andinurned he would arise to thee."

  The man in scarlet smiled a little grimly and followed his conductorout of the light up the marble heights of stairs duly set withsentinels, to a porch that even the Royal Colonnade of the Temple couldnot shame. A huge cresset with a jeweled hood, depending from agroining so high that its light was feeble, showed dimly the giantcompound arch of the portal. An orderly, a veritable pygmy within theoutline of the dark entrance, appeared and saluted.

  "A visitor for the proconsul and his guest," the centurion said,passing the man in scarlet to the orderly.

  He was led through a valve groaning on its granite hinges into thevestibule of Herod the Great's palace.

  It was a lofty hall, nobly vaulted, lined with costly Indian onyx andflorid with pagan friezes, arabesques and frescoes. Yet, though itsjeweled lamps were dark and cold, its fountains still, its hangings andits carpets gone, its bloody genius held despotic sway from a shadowythrone, over the note of brute force which the Roman garrison hadinfused into it.

  At the far end was a small carven table at which two Romans sat, a lampand a crater of wine at their elbows, the tesserae of a dice-gamebetween them.

  Without waiting for the orderly to speak, the man in scarlet steppedforward.

  "Greeting, Vitellius. Capito, I salute you," he said. His voice wasthat of a composed man speaking with equals.

  Vitellius turned his head toward the speaker; Capito drew up his lidsand his lower jaw relaxed. Slowly then both men got upon their feet.

  "By the bats of Hades--" Vitellius began.

  "By the nymphs of Delphi!" Capito's aged falsetto broke in. "It is theHerod himself!"

  "Herod Agrippa!" Vitellius exclaimed.

  "From the faces of you," Agrippa declared, "I might have been the shadeof my grandsire. But I have been hunting you. I need help. And asthou hopest to return three hundred thousand drachmae to Caesar from mypurse, do thou aid me in urging Vitellius to yield it, Capito."

  "Help," Capito repeated.

  "What manner of help?" Vitellius demanded, fixing Agrippa with asuspicious eye.

  "Arrest me an Essene from the hands of Jonathan."

  "Jonathan!" the proconsul exclaimed darkly.

  "The High Priest, the Nasi, thy sweet and valued friend!" the Agrippaexplained with amiable provoke. "He has arrested an Essene on atrifling charge of apostasy and he is my voucher before the Essenicbrotherhood for a loan to repay Caesar. I left him in the hands of theShoterim, in Bezetha. If he be not speedily rescued, they will stonehim without the walls to-morrow and my debt to Caesar--" he drew up hisshoulders and spread out his hands in a gesture highly Jewish.

  Capito frowned and Vitellius glowered under his grizzled brow atAgrippa.

  "It is one to me," Agrippa continued coolly, as he noted signs ofdissent in the contemplation. "I am just as happy and as like toescape Caesar's displeasure by failing to pay it, as thou wilt be,Capito, if thou failest to collect it."

  Capito nervously fingered the tesserae at his hand.

  "Meanwhile," added the Herod, perching himself on the edge of thetable, "the youth proceeds to Jonathan's stronghold."

  Vitellius looked at Caesar's debt-collector. "Dost thou see anythingmore in this than appears on the face of it?" he asked.

  Capito scratched his white head. He had learned to look for ulteriormotives in every move of this slippery Herod, but he was too littleinformed in the matter to see more than the surface.

  "We--can look into it, first," he opined.

  "Jonathan will not await your pleasure," Agrippa put in. "He ishurried now with the responsibility of executing enough blasphemers tosave himself popular favor. The Sanhedrim may sit to-morrow, theprisoner come for trial and be executed--even more expeditiouslybecause the Nasi expects thee to interfere, Vitellius."

  The proconsul bit through an expletive. Jonathan was a thorn in hisside.

  "What is it you wish me to do?" he demanded.

  "Arrest me this youth. The
claim of the proconsul's charge will takeprecedence over the hieratic."

  "But he has not offended--"

  "Save the protest; he has; he struck me, a Roman citizen. But draw upthe warrant, good Vitellius, and send a centurion after the young man.Thou canst make no error by so doing and thou canst save Capito thefavor of his emperor."

  Vitellius summoned a clerk and while the warrant for Marsyas' arrestwas written, despatched an orderly for an officer. One of thecontubernalis to Vitellius, or one of the sons of a noble familyserving his apprenticeship in warfare, appeared.

  "Take four," Vitellius said grimly, in compliance with Herod's demand,when the young centurion approached, "and go with this man. Arrest bysuperior claim the High Priest's prisoner, who shall be pointed out.Fetch him and this man back to me!"

  The young centurion saluted and Agrippa assented with a nod.

  "Thanks," he added nonchalantly. "Come, brother," he said to the youngofficer, "if we be late it may take the whole machinery of Rome to undothe work of Jonathan."

  Agrippa and the Roman legionaries passed out of the Praetorium andturned directly up the slanting street toward the palace of Jonathan,which stood a little above the camp.

  The Herod had lost little time and the progress of the arresting partytoward the stronghold would not have been rapid with the resistance ofMarsyas and the friends of the Nazarenes to retard the movement. Aftera quick walk of a short distance, the Roman group came upon theTemple's emissaries, entering from an intersecting street.

  Saul and Joel walked a little ahead of the broken-spirited prisonerswho were centered in a group of armed lictors and a hooting escort ofhalf a hundred vagrants. The flaring torch-light shone down on bowedheads and disordered garments, and showed fugitive glints of manaclesand knives.

  Among them, unbroken and silent, was Marsyas, heavily shackled. He wasmarked with blows, but several besides the Levite Joel staggered asthey walked, and Agrippa, lifting himself on tiptoe to point out hisprisoner to the centurion, eyed the young man with approval.

  The officer nodded abruptly and broke through the crowd. The lightdropping on his shining armor instantly displayed his authority to haltthe group. His command to stop elicited almost precipitate obedience.The hooting vagrants scattered.

  The centurion laid his hand on Marsyas' shoulder.

  "Thou art a prisoner of the proconsul," he said.

  The halt and the dismayed silence caught Saul's attention. He turnedback and pushed his way into the center of the circle.

  "Unhand him," he said to the centurion. "He is wanted of theSanhedrim."

  The young officer smiled derisively and thrust off the hold of theapprehensive lictors. The four made way through the crowd and theofficer passed Marsyas into their hands.

  "Make my excuses to the Sanhedrim," the officer said sarcastically.The Pharisee glanced over the Roman's party. Then he stepped withoutostentation in the centurion's way--a weak, small figure in fringes andphylactery, living up to his nature as he fronted brassy Rome.

  "Show me thy warrant," he said quietly.

  The centurion drew forth the parchment and flourished it. Saul took itwith a murmured courtesy, and, holding it near a torch, read itcarefully. Then he passed it back.

  "After the proconsul hath done with this young man," he observed, "theSanhedrim will claim him. Say this much to the proconsul. We shallwait. Peace!"

  He motioned his party to proceed and the crowd moved on, leavingMarsyas in the hands of new captors.

  "Back to the Praetorium," the centurion said to Agrippa.