“Thou art but a fool,” said Ulric. “I read thy name in thy face. Thou art Bar Abbas. I have known thy father many days. Did he not tell thee how I rescued him in the tower in Esdraelon that he died not? But I have thought him a prudent man. How is it that he hath permitted this folly?”
“O gladiator,” said Bar Abbas with a deep, dark smile, “it is no folly. They who would slay me seek me in the wilderness, not in Jerusalem. A man who waiteth within the gate among the legionaries is hidden from the hunters among the hills. I have seen my father and now I go to meet him and his friend the master of the games in the valley of Hinnom, as I believe thou, also, art informed beforehand.”
“Then thou hast delivered to him thy spoils?” said Ulric. “But canst thou give me a reason why I should go to meet him in Hinnom?”
“That I know not,” said Bar Abbas. “But the master of the games is thy master also. He will give thee thy direction.”
“Nevertheless, thou and he are unwise,” said the jarl. “I would thou wert armed.”
“Save my dagger, I am not,” replied the robber, “and thou hast no weapon.”
“A warrior is always armed,” said Ulric. “But now we are at the gate and here is the officer. Be thou silent.”
“Whither goest thou, O gladiator?” demanded the sentinel. “This is forbidden thee. Thou art too far from the circus.”
“Dost thou indeed not know me?” responded the jarl. “Or knowest thou not this signet of Caius of Thessalonica?”
“I do know thee, who thou art,” said the officer, “and I know the signet.”
“By commandment of Pontius the Spearman, the procurator,” said Ulric.
“I hear,” said the Roman.
“Bind thou this Bar Abbas, the robber, and take him to the prison and report to the procurator that I have done as he did give me instruction. This thing is upon thy life!”
Forward sprang Bar Abbas dagger in hand, but the strong blow of a soldier smote him to the earth and he was bound with cords.
“O man,” shouted the captain of the gate, coming hastily, “do as he biddeth thee. We also have full commands concerning Bar Abbas. Well do I know that this is of the procurator.”
Then turned he to the jarl.
“Thou hast more to do, O gladiator?”
“I may not answer thee,” said Ulric, respectfully. “But now do I go out into the valley to meet one who cometh, and my duty is in my hand. I will return unto thee shortly.”
“Thou hast no weapon,” said the Roman; but upon his face was a look of understanding, for he was a man of experience and he had been scanning carefully the raiment of Ulric. “What if an evil person were to meet thee?”
“O captain,” said Ulric, “he who obeyeth a command doeth well. But if I return not with due speed know thou that I am slain, and inquire into that business.”
“That will I do,” said the officer; “but they who slay thee may indeed need an inquiry. I think it will not be entirely well with them.”
The jarl answered not a word, but he had now upon his mind the things that had been told to him by Bar Abbas on their way, and he went down into the valley, walking rapidly.
“Before me is a trap,” he said, “although it was not set for me, but for some other. I will now fall into it, and glad am I that I am so well prepared. This heavy, sharp-edged gladius is better than my light seax.”
Even then the captain of the gate was replying to a question from the quaternion.
“The gladiator unarmed?” he exclaimed. “Do I not know how a sheath will cause a wrinkle of a robe to enlarge and stiffen? They who sent him are responsible, not thou or I.”
The jarl went on a mile, it might be, and around him was the smoke of the everlasting burning of Hinnom and the smell from the untellable pollution. Here and there, also, he saw heaps of half-consumed offal in which many worms were crawling. This place was to all Jews the picture and symbol of the punishment of the wicked after death. Not many wayfarers were at any time to be encountered here, for all men knew that it was a favorite haunt of evil spirits, of demons, and of robbers.
Nevertheless, as the jarl looked forward through the unpleasant clouding of smoke he exclaimed, aloud:
“They come! Yonder is Abbas himself, and with him are four men. They ride horses. I will wait until they dismount, but woe to me if so much as one of them shall escape.”
He stood still, making sure of the hilt of his weapon, but the horsemen came near and at once sprang to the ground, coming forward.
“Knowest thou me?” said the foremost man. “Thy fellows have escaped me, but thou shalt not. I will feed thee to the wild beasts!”
“O master of the games,” replied the jarl, “I am of the household of Caius.”
“And I am from Pontius the Spearman!” shouted the master of the games. “O ye of Ethiopia, bind him fast!”
The three with him were black slaves, armed with shields and short swords and jereeds, but they were naked to their waists.
“Yield thee, O Saxon,” cried out Abbas, mockingly. “I have thy Miriam securely and she will soon belong to my friend.”
Now the master of the games was in full armor, but he had turned a moment for the ordering of his slaves. He stooped a little, also, to loosen a coil of cordage that was in his hand for the binding of the jarl, supposing him to be unarmed and helpless against five armed men.
Then swiftly flashed the bright gladius in the hand of Ulric and the head of the master of the games fell to the earth.
“Thou hast sold Miriam?” heard Abbas, a hoarse whisper, but he heard no more, for the sword had flashed again.
The light shaft of a jereed snapped as its blade struck upon the hidden mail of the jarl and the black striker fell across the body of Abbas. His next companion was as a defenseless man before the angry might of Ulric, and hardly was he down before the slave to whom had been given the holding of the horses lay among their hoofs.
“Sure am I that Abbas is dead,” said Ulric, stooping over him. “Not one of the others liveth. The horses must now go back at speed. I would not have them seen from the gate.”
He pricked them sharply so that they ran in fear. Then he wiped the gladius clean, concealed it well, and walked back to the Hinnom gate of Jerusalem.
“Hast thou accomplished thy command?” asked the officer. “The time hath been but brief.”
“Else were I not here,” said Ulric. “There were those who came by appointment and one of them was the father of Bar Abbas. The others were but robbers like him.”
“O gladiator,” said the officer, “so will I report well of thee. I think thou art a sure messenger for an errand of blood.”
Questions might not be pressed in such a case, but soldiers were at once sent down the valley to make due inquest.
Onward went Ulric through the streets of the city.
“O Miriam!” he groaned. “Would that I might live for thee! But for this day’s deed I think that I may soon die. I will now go to the house of Ben Ezra and I will tell him what hath thus been accomplished for him and for her.”
Even as he went his haste was hindered in a narrow street by a great procession which seemed to be one of rejoicing. Maidens came first, with clashing of cymbals and with singing. Behind them were other musicians not a few and many men and women. Then walked lightly on a veiled one in bright robes that were adorned with jewels. Attending her and following joyfully was the remainder of the procession.
“Wilt thou inform me what this may be?” asked Ulric of one who stepped apart from the others for a moment.
“O gladiator,” replied the Jew, “this is the wedding of my kinsman, Ananias, the son of the money changer of the temple. He marrieth the Greek proselyte, Sapphira the beautiful, the freed woman and favorite of the wife of the procurator. She hath become a daughter of Abraham. She now goeth to the house of the bridegroom to meet her husband. There also is to be the wedding feast.”
“I thank thee,” said Ulric, but he walked on m
uttering doubtfully: “Sapphira? Of the household of Pontius the Spearman? I remember well. That was the name of the beloved of Lysias.”
* * *
CHAPTER XXXIX. The Passover Feast.
“O JARL,” EXCLAIMED BEN Ezra as they stood together in the house, “would that thou also wert a son of Abraham! But thou hast done a deed for which thou wilt be held to answer. O mighty man of valor, I fear that thy life is forfeited to the law.”
“Thinkest thou, O my friend,” replied Ulric, “that there is now any more peril to Miriam?”
“Not any,” said Ben Ezra, “save that all dwellers upon the earth are ever in peril from the evil. Every payment hath been made. Her enemies are slain with the sword. She may dwell in peace for a season. But if harm cometh to thee——”
“Then,” interrupted the jarl, “thou knowest that whatever of mine thou hast in thy keeping belongeth to Miriam. See thou to that!”
“Before Jehovah!” said Ben Ezra, “that will I do. The jewels and the gold are hers. But what doest thou now, seeing that the officer of the Hinnom gate will report thee?”
“I sleep this night,” said Ulric. “After that I purpose going to the temple to hear the words of this son of the gods from Nazareth. I will speak to him concerning Caius. As for this affair of the valley of Hinnom, it is no secret, and I may not hide myself.”
“I also will hear the rabbi from Galilee,” said Ben Ezra. “Yesterday he did boldly cleanse the temple of such as were there contrary to the law.”
The jarl listened in silence while the Jew told him many things rapidly, but then he said:
“He is brave. I would I had been with him. I will ask him if he needeth now a good sword. I will do as he shall command me.”
But now a servant of Isaac came to summon Ben Ezra, and Ulric was alone.
“Would that I might see Miriam!” he murmured, slowly, and a delight spoke laughingly in the soft tone of his voice.
“Ulric, thy Miriam is here! Art thou in any peril? Wilt thou not save thyself?”
She stood at his side touching him, and his strong arms opened and he uttered a great cry, for she glided into them and they were closed around her.
Who shall hear or tell the words that are uttered at such a time, seeing that they are a thousandfold more than words? He who would strive to repeat them is a foolish one, as if he would echo the far-away music of a song in the night.
“Thou art safe!” he said at last. “That is enough for me. Trouble not thy heart overmuch. Only the gods may see that which cometh to us on the morrow. Go thou to thy chamber and thank thy God for me, telling him that I will offer him a great offering and that henceforth he shall be my God also for this thing which he hath done for thee and me.”
So she departed as one who must, but who willeth not to go, and the night hours came upon all the city of Jerusalem.
Now at an earlier hour of that day there had been standing in the private room of Pontius the Spearman a tall and stately matron attired in costly garments, and before her stood a youth whose face was full of great agony.
“Be thou silent!” she commanded. “This was my doing. Questionest thou me? What is my freed woman unto such as thou art? Thou hast naught to do with Sapphira! Speak not of the matter to the procurator! I do counsel thee well. Thou art but a youth, O Lysias, and in youth there is folly!”
Low bent his head and his bosom heaved with pain, but he was silent. The face of the matron was noble in shape, and not unkindly, but in it was great haughtiness, for the wife of the procurator was as a queen and no man might question her will. She looked now at the young Greek, pitying him for a moment, and then she went from the room, saying no more, for the matter was ended, and he yet stood there alone.
“All the gods have forgotten me,” murmured Lysias. “I will but make my report to the procurator and I will depart—I care not whither.”
Even as he spoke the ruler of Judea entered the room, striding as if in haste.
“Thou art here?” he said, and his face was red, as if in hot anger. “Speak on, O Greek! Tell me of all thy doings, from the first to the last, beginning with Cornelius at Cæsarea.”
“O most noble Pontius,” said Lysias, “from the centurion, this parchment, sealed. He gave me no words to utter.”
“I will read,” said Pontius, but the epistle may have been not only brief but troublesome, for his face darkened yet more angrily.
“Speak on!” he commanded, and his messenger told all, to the place where he had parted from Tostig and the Saxons upon the shore of the harbor of Joppa.
“More than this is already known to me,” said Pontius. “Hast thou spoken at all of this matter?”
“Not to any ear but thine, my lord,” said Lysias. “I have been utterly prudent. Even the master of the games cannot know concerning thy dealing with the secret messenger of Herod.”
“Thou knowest?” almost gasped the procurator. “Very great is thy knowledge. Thou hast done well in this affair. I will give thee now another errand. Call unto me the sentinel in the outer corridor.”
Quickly Lysias went and returned, bringing with him one of the trusted legionaries of the palace guard who had been on duty.
“Take thou this youth,” said Pontius, “and lead him to the fifth chamber of the lower corridor. Summon thou to that room one whom thou knowest. Say to him that I will see him again without delay. Then return thou to thy post.”
“Follow!” said the soldier to Lysias. “I am bidden to show thee a certain matter.”
Lysias obeyed, but with a faintness coming coldly upon him, but as he went there was a sad thought weighing upon his heart.
“O that I might but see her! Did she indeed wed him of her own free will? My beloved! O my Sapphira! O my beautiful one! I found thee but to lose thee!”
There was a stairway, and at the bottom of that there was a long passage. It was gloomy and dingy as of a prison, with closed cages on either side. Here, also, one shortly came and walked with them, a short, broad man in armor, who spoke not.
Lysias himself counted the doors.
“The fifth,” he said. “It is open.”
“Enter!” commanded the soldier, but he followed not, and the short, dark man went in behind Lysias.
The door closed clanging, and then there was a silence save for the feet of the departing legionary and a sharp sound of a cry from that fifth chamber. A minute passed and then another, and the short, dark man came out alone.
“The Greek,” he said, “hath accomplished the errand upon which the procurator sent him. But there is blood upon my hand, and I will wash well before I report to the Spearman lest he inquire of me.”
At that hour there was joyous feasting at the house of the father of the Jew Ananias. The bridegroom welcomed his kindred and his friends and the red wine was plentiful. In the apartment of the women sat the bride arrayed in her jeweled robes. All the women who looked upon her praised her, wondering at her great beauty. They said that Ananias had won the pearl, the pearl of pearls, the ruby of rubies, the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valley. Very joyful, also, was Sapphira, for her triumph and her happiness had come to her; but there came a moment when she suddenly put her hand upon her bosom.
“Lysias!” she whispered. “Did I hear him speak to me? Again! It is gone! Thank Aphrodite and thank Juno. It is better to be a wedded woman, a proselyte of the temple, than to be a bondwoman of the procurator.”
The days of the wedding feast were to be cut short by the coming of the Passover, for only by express permission of the rabbis had the command of the wife of Pontius been obeyed at such a time. It was well, they admitted, to change a law to obtain a proselyte from the household of the procurator. The next day, however, would not be altogether sacred, and the wedding feast might go on, but it might be extended no further lest there should be a grievous sin against the counting of days. When the next day came, therefore, all things belonging to it followed in their order.
There was a great gatherin
g in the court of the women in the temple, for here had come the prophet from Galilee, and he was not only preaching, but healing also. In front of him where he stood there was seated upon the pavement a closely veiled one, whose head was bowed. It was as if she might also be praying silently.
The sick and the maimed and the blind and many who were in tribulation came and stood by her for a moment to be touched by the rabbi and to make room for others to be healed in like manner. These fell away full of joy over that which had come to them, but the veiled one moved not, nor did several of the other women who were near. Once only did she lift her head, drawing aside her veil, and her voice was low and sweet.
“O Master, what shall I ask of thee concerning Ulric? Canst thou do aught for him?”
“Be thou contented,” he said. “He followeth me.” He stooped and put his hand upon her head and turned away, for he was departing from that place to the court of the heathen. So she covered her face with her veil and left the temple.
In the court of the heathen was a gathering that was dense for multitude, and here, also, were many who asked for healing. Near to a pillar by the outer portico stood twain who had just arrived.
“O Caius,” said one, “hast thou strength to stand upon thy feet for a little?”
“Hardly, O jarl,” said the centurion. “But I am a Roman. What part have I in this Jew rabbi and his god?”
“Nay, but stand thou here,” said Ulric, “while I go and ask him.”
On pressed he through the crowd until he stood before the prophet of Galilee.
“O thou of the sons of the gods,” he said, “wilt thou heal a Roman, standing yonder, as thou hast healed me, who am a Saxon? I pray thee have mercy upon him, for he is my friend.”
Now he had thus interrupted men of dignities and learning who were standing there asking questions of Jesus and gainsaying him, and these rebuked the jarl angrily.
The reply of Jesus was to them in words, but Ulric fell back thinking within himself: “His face hath answered me. I know not what this is. I will have speech with him at another time. O that I may be with him in the day of the great battle!”
Ulric the Jarl Page 36