“Go thou and come again. I will answer for thee to Pontius. Say that I bid him be with me within the hour lest evil come. Haste! On thy head! O charioteer, drive to my house! On, O jarl!”
“Behold,” thought Lysias, “I am in a sore strait. Pontius will scourge me! But I will run.”
A swift runner was he, even with the mail upon him, and at the gate of the procurator’s palace he halted to draw breath.
“In! In!” exclaimed the officer of the portal. “I will announce thee. The procurator giveth a feast, but I may go to him. This must be some strange errand!”
“The gods be with thee!” said Lysias. “Tell him!”
It was but a few terrible moments, full of fear for the young Greek, and he stood in an anteroom before the stern Spearman.
“What did I bid thee?” he demanded.
“Slay thou me if thou wilt, most noble procurator,” bravely responded Lysias, “but Caius of Thessalonica sendeth thee greeting and these words: ‘Be thou with me within the hour lest evil come.’ I beg thee, O Pontius, let me say this much more: for I heard him whisper, ‘Lest he give his power into the hand of him of the Black Castle and his neck to the headsman of Cæsar.’ I have not at all disobeyed thee, O Pontius. He bade me return to his house for another commandment.”
“Be thou there on his arrival and I will count it thy strict obedience,” said Pontius. “Thou art not a legionary, nor under the law of the legion. I think thou servest me well.”
Away ran Lysias murmuring: “So narrow is the measure between Roman favor and Roman vengeance! He may die ere I risk his wrath again.”
Nevertheless, it is not easy for one of the great to depart from a feast whereat governors and senators and princes are reclining, and Pontius went in to pay the duty of host to his many guests, so that Lysias was in no peril concerning his errand.
The chariot had reached its halting place and Caius had walked into his house, upheld somewhat by his pride, but more by the arm of Ulric, the son of Brander.
Already the physician had examined the wound made by the Syrian grooved arrow.
“O Saxon,” he asked, “thou didst suck this poison well and quickly?”
Ulric did but nod his head.
“Then know thou, my lord Caius,” said the man of skill, “that but for thy swordsman thou wert already dead. I will do what I can for thee, but it will be long before thou wilt bear thine armor. This wound must be neither bandaged nor closed, but washed only and kept open. Saxon, give me thy sharpest blade.”
“It is my seax,” said Ulric, drawing it. “What am I to do?”
“Cut into this hard swelling,” said the physician. “Cut the depth of two finger breadths and withdraw thy blade.”
“Cut!” said Caius. “Am I afraid of an edge?”
“So bidden, I will cut,” said Ulric, and the sword point went into the swollen arm.
“I thought so,” said the physician. “With that green corruption spurteth out much evil. Widen the cut. Caius is saved. I will put into the gash an ointment that I will bring. It is well for thee, O Caius, that thy strong swordsman is thy trusty friend. I go.”
Behind them, by express authority, now stood Lysias, listening, and he said:
“Most noble Caius, this is my command from the procurator. I must go to him.”
“Tell thou him the saying of the physician,” said Caius. “Tell him, also, that I change not my greeting. He must come.”
Again went Lysias, and again he stood before the procurator telling all that he had heard and seen.
“Pause thou here a moment,” said Pontius. “I would have speech with my wife.”
Still as a statue stood the young Greek, and none who came or went dared ask him whence he came, but suddenly an arm was around his neck and a kiss was upon his cheek.
“I am here, beloved, but I may not linger. I will see thee often. I am still thy Sapphira.”
He stirred not, spoke not, nor did he turn to see, but there was a grating of teeth.
“O Lysias! O love!”
“Speak not of that which is dead,” he said to her. “Go thou thy way. This is no place for the foolishness of unfaithful women. I will indeed meet thee again, but thou art a slave and I am a free warrior. Go!”
White was now the face of Sapphira and her lips were quivering, but she whispered:
“Scorn me not! I was frightened, and so I was cruel. I do love thee; and thou wilt need me in this place, which is as a spider’s web. I go. Follow me not!”
“Follow thee?” laughed Lysias, scornfully. “I did follow thee from far, but now I am as a weapon in the hand of the procurator. I shall serve not thee, but him.”
“Ha!” muttered one who heard. “This is, then, the trusted one. Him we must slay.”
Well for that speaker if his lips had been closed, for in the shadow behind him stood Pontius the Spearman.
“They who will not betray me must die?” he thought within himself. “Then do I now know one mark at which my Greek may send his sharpest arrow and be guiltless. He may slay this Iberian swine with his own hand.”
For the mutterer was a guest who had risen from a table, and he was one who had been an officer of Herod’s household, but was now pretending to be an enemy of the cunning tetrarch, the jackal of the Black Castle.
The guest returned to his reclining, and Sapphira had vanished as a lamp that goeth out, but the procurator came forward.
“Say to Caius that I come. Abide thou in his house this night and on the morrow until I send for thee, save that thou mayest go in the morning to the school of Gamaliel. Hast thou money for thy uses?”
“O most noble Pontius,” said Lysias, “the swift ass that was mine own is in thy stable. All baggage of mine is in the armory room where thou didst find me. I have gold and silver pieces enough in my pouch for this present. I am not poor, so that what I have be not taken from me.”
“I will give orders in these thy matters,” replied Pontius. “He who serveth me well is rich enough. Thou shalt have thy swift ass and such other beasts as thou wilt. Go now. I believe thee brave and prudent. Thou art young, too, and the girl is fair. Youth is the time for trifling. Provide thee soon a good bow and arrows of thine own choosing.”
“Thanks, O noble Pontius! Thanks! I will send sure arrows at thy bidding!” So saying, the young Greek departed.
Long was the conference that night between the Saxons and Lysias.
“We are little surprised,” said the jarl, “for we knew thou wert going to this place. Thou art a good fighter and thou hast rightly taken the procurator for thy captain. I have heard that he casteth the pilum even better than do other Romans. I could follow such a man into battle, knowing that he is fitted to lead. Hast thou found thy Sapphira?”
“Speak not of her, O jarl,” said Lysias. “Ere long thou mayest thyself look upon her, but there is a peril in her name at this hour.”
“I read thy face,” said Ulric. “Keep thou thine own secret. But thou mayest say to Pontius the Spearman that he hath no surer friend than Caius of Thessalonica.”
“Even now they are together,” replied Lysias. “The procurator will know all that is known to thy friend, but I fear the careless tongues of thy Saxons. They speak to one another concerning triremes and old fights at sea. I would they were in their North country.”
“So would not I,” said Ulric, “unless I were to sail with them. I may not now leave this city of Jerusalem, and to sail to the north were to sail into ice fields. We must wait until the spring.”
Not so thought the homesick vikings in their comfortable lodgings in the house of Caius. Even now they were talking of the sea.
“It is but a few miles to this seaport called Joppa,” they said. “We will learn somewhat concerning the road thither and the shipping. We are free men, with the Middle Sea so near at hand.”
Caius of Thessalonica slept well after his long communing with the procurator, and when he awoke the jarl sat near him.
“Thou art w
atchful!” exclaimed Caius. “But in Jerusalem I am safe. I have to tell thee, however, that thy gladiators may not abide within the walls. The quarters for such as they are out in the valley of Jehoshaphat, near the amphitheater. No games are going on at this time, but there will be abundant sport in the days after the Passover feast, when Herod cometh.”
The jarl’s brow darkened, but he said only: “So be it. I will guide them to their place. I myself will inspect the city and the forts and offer sacrifices, as I told thee. But this know thou, O noble Caius, that not in this city nor in any other is treachery dead. I fear for thee. How is thine arm? I would see it.”
“Thou hast knowledge of wounds, but not of poison,” replied Caius. “Uncover it.”
The jarl did so, and he looked thoughtfully at the sore and then at the feverish face of the noble Roman.
“This man will die slowly,” he thought, “but he will die, for this wound healeth not. I will not be here when he dieth, lest I be deemed by others only fit food for wild beasts. So will I say to my companions.”
“It changeth little,” he said aloud to Caius. “Who shall read a thing like this? I will go and return, but I would my sword might be near thee if there is need of it.”
“Go, O jarl,” said Caius. “I will send for thee if I require thee. Fulfill thy will concerning the city, for all men may come and go. Only that thou must leave thy weapons from thee or the legionaries will disarm thee. The Jews, also, go unarmed.”
“For that I have no care,” said Ulric, “but it were a sore thing for Tostig the Red, for instance, to have no hilt near his grip.”
“March them away quickly!” exclaimed Caius. “While thou art known to be with me as a guard thou mayest wear thy sword and thy mail. The rules go no further, for there have been many tumults and much bloodshed in Jerusalem.”
The jarl answered not to that, but took his leave, and not at all as a servant. Rather did it seem as if the centurion were under his command. He went to his men, and well pleased were they to find their quarters were to be without the walls.
“O jarl,” said Wulf the Skater, “this is much better. I would thou wert able now to show us our way to the sea. We have learned much from Lysias and from others. There is good shipping upon the coast and the right keel might be found by brave men.”
“Also triremes of Cæsar,” replied the jarl. “The coast is well guarded. We will wait a little.”
Out into the streets they marched, with him at their head, and many turned to look upon their array as they went on to the gate. The dwellers in Jerusalem were accustomed to seeing various kinds of armed men, but these were unlike any others. Nevertheless, there were devout Jews who lifted hands to curse them in the name of Jehovah, as heathen gladiators whose presence was a pollution of the city of God.
The amphitheater, when they came to it, was found to be larger than that of Tiberias, with more dens for wild beasts and with a better and longer course for the running of races.
“I have been told,” said the circus servitor who guided them, “that Herod the Great delighted much in horses. Also that one value of the circus was as a place of execution for tribes who had rebelled against him. His horsemen on the frontier scouted far and wide for captives and his cages here were ever full.”
“I care not for circuses,” said Wulf the Skater. “I have seen enough of them.”
“And I,” replied Tostig; “if I might kill an elephant, it would please me. I have a curiosity to know how long it taketh so huge a beast to die.”
“Thou wilt see elephants enough,” said the servitor, “but they do not often spend them upon the games. They are costly, and they come from far. Men and women are plentiful, and they make as good sport in the killing.”
The buildings prepared as quarters for trained gladiators, not slaves, were rude but spacious, and here did Ulric leave his friends while he returned to the city, but he remembered the saying of Caius concerning his armor.
“I may wear a tunic and robe only at most times,” he said to himself. “But under the tunic may be a coat of fine mail and hidden by the robe may be a seax. I will not be defenseless altogether where there are so many secret daggers as I hear of. I would have speech with Lysias, if I may. I trust him not entirely, and I forget not that he is now of the household of the procurator.”
Not justly altogether was he thinking of the young Greek, for Lysias was a man walking among perils and having a wounded heart under his bright mail and his gay apparel. It was but the next day when he made his first entrance at the school of Gamaliel. Celebrated over the inhabited earth was this academy, and many came from distant lands to hear the teachings of the great and learned rabbi. Among them, also, were those whose real purpose was to obtain for themselves the reputation of scholarship through the name of Gamaliel their teacher, and they were even as Lysias in that matter. In such a company, however, small attention was paid to one more young Greek, who seemed to be rich, save that none questioned him unwisely after being informed that his protector was Pontius the Spearman. Moreover, if there were those who bowed and made way for him on that account, there were others who bent their brows and drew aside their garments that he should not touch them.
“Thou art imprudent,” said an elderly man to one of these. “Restrain thy zeal, I pray thee.”
“He is a dog!” growled the zealot. “His heathen master slew my father causelessly in the temple, mingling his blood with his sacrifice to Jehovah. I am of Galilee.”
“I will ask thee, then,” said his adviser, “sawest thou ever this Galilean prophet who cometh from Nazareth? It is said that he worketh many wonders.”
“I have seen him,” said the zealot, “and wonders he doth work. Hath any other rabbi raised the dead? Who else cleanseth a leper or openeth the eyes of the blind?”
“If thou liest not,” was the surly response, “he is indeed one of the learned. I will hear his teachings when he cometh to Jerusalem to the Passover feast. But he will work no wonders here.”
“Knowest thou that?” sneered the zealot. “But this thou knowest from the law, that it is not well for thee to speak evil of a rabbi. He who revileth one of the learned goeth to Gehenna.”
“I reviled him not!” exclaimed the adviser, as if in sudden fear. “I am a Pharisee of the Pharisees. I am a keeper of the whole law. Verily I will hear thy rabbi when he speaketh. But beware thou of offending the procurator!”
“Messiah cometh!” said the Galilean fiercely. “He bringeth a sword! He will make his garments red in the blood of the heathen!”
“Let not the priests hear thee!” sharply responded the Pharisee. “To them only is given the discerning of such matters. Thou wilt yet be cast out of the synagogue.”
The angry Galilean walked slowly away. “What know the Pharisees and the priests concerning Jesus of Nazareth?” he muttered. “I think of him that he is a more learned rabbi than any here in Jerusalem.”
Now Lysias heard these men, and already had he learned from the Saxons in what manner their jarl had been healed of his hurts in Galilee.
“This prophet!” he thought. “I will see him if I may. Alas for me, there is no temple here to Mercurius or to Apollo! I have great need to offer sacrifices. No! not to Juno nor to Venus! They have not dealt well with me. I think I shall now hate Sapphira when I see her. How is it then that I also love her, seeing that I would slay her if I could? This is that strange thing between a fool and a woman.”
* * *
CHAPTER XXXV. In the Court of the Women.
IT WAS STILL THE winter time in the Northland, but in Judea the spring had returned. In the lowlands there was already much heat and a swift growth of all fruits of the earth, but in a high place, like Jerusalem upon her hills, the days were cooler and oft the nights were frosty, so that men builded fires in their braziers.
“This is not according to nature,” said Lars, the son of Beolf, among his companions. “We have had no snow save a few flakes, and there hath been no ice thicker than
the blade of my seax. I weary of this land!”
“Hael to the Northland!” exclaimed Tostig the Red. “Hael to the driving storms and the glittering ice, and to the frost and to the snow!”
“I will not stay here,” said Knud the Bear. “I will depart from an accursed country wherein there is never good winter. But didst thou hear the keeper? He saith that ships at Joppa dare not put to sea because of the rough weather. What seamen are these!”
“O men!” said Wulf the Skater. “By Odin! If vikings were at the oars and if I were at the helm, a keel would seek the open sea.”
“We will even go to Joppa when we may,” said Tostig. “But our errand will be to the Northland, that we may bring back fleets, and in them Saxons, to march with the jarl into the great battle in Esdraelon. We are too few.”
“I am with thee,” said another tall viking. “I have considered this matter, and I think it is also the mind of the jarl. He may not go with us, but his secret will is that we go speedily without him. Then will he truthfully say to the Romans that he did not command us to go. I will no longer be shut up in this place as if I were one of the beasts in yonder dens waiting for my turn to be made a bloody show of. I am a free warrior, not a caged wild creature. I will go to the sea.”
Other voices were raised in strong accord with his, and their talk went on until their minds were on fire and their purposes had become firmly fixed, for they were men of experience and of great courage. The jarl came not among them at this time, for he was even then at the temple gate inquiring as to the right method of obtaining cattle for his sacrifices to Jehovah. A servitor went into one of the inner courts and brought out a dealer who had bullocks at hand, and this man began to name prices, counting them in shekels of the temple.
“What know I of shekels?” exclaimed Ulric.
“Thou dost not need to know,” broke in a voice behind him. “O jarl, I am here. He asketh thee too much. Let me attend to this matter. Well for thee that thou hast it in thy mind to offer sacrifices to the living Jehovah!”
“O my friend!” exclaimed the jarl. “Glad am I of thy coming! This charge is thine.”
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