_Salathiel Faces a Roman_
[Sidenote: In Pursuit]
I was in one of those fits of abstraction, revolving the misery in which
my beloved daughter might be, if indeed she were in existence, when the
door of my chamber opened softly and one of my domestics appeared, making
a signal of silence. This was he whom I had detected in correspondence
with the Roman agent and forgiven through the entreaties of Miriam. The
man had since shown remarkable interest in the recovery of my daughter,
and thus completely reinstated himself. He knelt before me, and with
more humility than I desired, implored my pardon for having again held
intercourse with the Roman.
“It was my zeal,” said he, “to gain intelligence, for I knew that nothing
passed in the provinces a secret from him. This letter is his answer, and
perhaps I shall be forgiven for the sake of what it contains.”
I read it with trembling avidity. It was mysterious; described two
fugitives who had made their escape to Cæsarea, and intimated that as
they were about to fly into Asia Minor, the pursuit must be immediate and
conducted with the utmost secrecy.
[Sidenote: Before Gessius Florus]
I was instantly on horseback. Dreading to disturb my family by false
hopes, I ordered out my hounds, ranged the hills in sight of my dwelling;
and then turning off, struck in the spur, and attended only by the
domestic, went full speed to Cæsarea. From the summit of Mount Carmel I
looked down upon the city and the broad Mediterranean. But my eyes then
felt no delight in the grandeur of art or nature. The pompous structures
on which Herod the Great had expended a treasure beyond count, and which
the residence of the governor made the Roman capital of Judea, were to me
but so many dens and dungeons in which my child might be hidden. The sea
showed me only the path by which she might have been borne away, or the
grave in which her wanderings were to close.
By extraordinary speed I entered the gates just as the trumpet was
sounding for their close. My attendant went forth to obtain information,
and I was left pacing my chamber, to which I had been brought in feverish
suspense. I did not suffer it long. The door opened, and a group of
soldiers ordered me to follow them. Resistance was useless. They led me
to the palace. There I was delivered from guard to guard, through a long
succession of apartments, until we reached the door of a banqueting-room.
The festivity within was high, and if I could have then sympathized
with singing and laughter, I might have had full indulgence during the
immeasurable hour that I lingered out, a broken wretch, exhausted by
desperate effort, sick at heart, and of course eager for the result of an
interview with the Roman procurator, a man whose name was equivalent to
vice, extortion, and love of blood throughout Judea.
At length the feast was at an end. I was summoned, and for the first time
saw Gessius Florus,[25] a little bloated figure, with a countenance that
to the casual observer was the model of gross good-nature, a twinkling
eye, and a lip on the perpetual laugh. His bald forehead wore a wreath of
flowers, and his tunic and the couch on which he lay breathed perfume.
The table before him was a long vista of sculptured cups, and golden
vases and candelabra.
“I am sorry to have detained you so long,” said he, “but this was the
Emperor’s birthday, and as good subjects we have kept it accordingly.”
During this speech he was engaged in contemplating the wine-bubbles as
they sparkled above the brim of a large amethystine goblet. A pale and
delicate Italian boy, sumptuously dressed, the only one of the guests who
remained, perceiving that I was fatigued, filled a cup and presented it.
“Right, Septimius,” said the debauchee; “make the Jew drink the Emperor’s
health.”
[Sidenote: The Procurator’s Story]
The youth bowed gracefully before me, and again offered the cup; but the
time was not for indulgence, and I laid it on the table.
“Here’s long life and glory to Nero Claudius Cæsar, our pious, merciful,
and invincible Emperor!” cried Florus, and only when he had drunk to the
bottom of the goblet, found leisure to look upon his prisoner.
He either felt or affected surprise, and, turning to his young companion,
said: “By Hercules, boy, what grand fellows those Jews make! The helmet
is nothing to the turban, after all. What magnificence of beard! No
Italian chin has the vigor to grow anything so superb; then the neck,
like the bull of Milo; and those blazing eyes! If I had but a legion of
such spearsmen——”
I grew impatient and said: “I stand here, procurator, in your bonds. I
demand why? I have business that requires my instant attention and I
desire to be gone.”
“Now have I treated you so inhospitably,” said he, laughing, “that you
expect I shall finish by shutting my doors upon you at this time of
night?” He glanced upon his tablets and read my name. “Aye,” said he,
“and after I had been so long wishing for the honor of your company. Jew,
take your wine and sit down upon that couch, and tell me what brought you
to Cæsarea.”
I told him briefly the circumstances. He roared with laughter, desired
me to repeat them, and swore that “By all the gods! it was the very best
piece of pleasantry he had heard since he set foot in Judea.” I stood up
in irrepressible indignation.
“What!” said he, “will you go without hearing my story in return?”
[Sidenote: Use of the Rack]
He filled his goblet again to the brim, buried his purple visage in a
vase of roses, and having inhaled the fragrance, and chosen an easy
posture, said coldly: “Jew, you have told me a most excellent story,
and it is only fair that I should tell you one in return; not half so
amusing, I admit, but to the full as true. Jew, you are a traitor!” I
started back. “Jew,” said he, “you must in common civility hear me out.
The truth is, that your visit has been so often anticipated and so long
delayed that I can not bear to part with you yet; you are an apostate;
you encourage those Christian dogs. Why does the man stare? You are in
communication with rebels, and I might have had the honor of meeting you
in the field, if you had not put yourself into my hands in Cæsarea.”
He pronounced those words of death in the most tranquil tone; not a
muscle moved; the cup which he held brimful in his hand never overflowed.
“Jew,” said he, “now be honest, and so far set an example to your nation.
Where is the money that has been gathered for this rebellion? You are too
sagacious a soldier to think of going to war without the mainspring of
the machine.”
I scorned to deny the intended insurrection, but “money I had collected
none.”
“Then,” said he, “you are now compelling me to a measure which I do not
like. Ho! guard!” A soldier presented himself. “Desire that the rack
shall be got ready.” The man retired. “You see, Jew, this is all your own
doing. Give up the money, and I give up the rack. And the surrender of
the coin is asked merely in compassion to yourselves, for without it you
can not rebel, and the more you rebel the more you will be beaten.”
“Beware, Gessius Florus,” I exclaimed; “beware! I am your prisoner,
entrapped, as I now see, by a villain, or by the greater villain who
corrupted him. You may rack me if you will; you may insult my feelings,
tear my flesh, take my life, but for this there shall be retribution.
Through Upper Galilee, from Tiberias to the top of Libanus, this act
of blood will ring, and be answered by blood. I have kinsmen many,
countrymen myriads. A single wrench of my sinews may lift a hundred
thousand arms against your city, and leave of yourself nothing but the
remembrance, of your crimes.”
He bounded from his couch; the native fiend flashed out in his
countenance. I waited his attack, with my hand on the poniard within my
sash. My look probably deterred him, for he flung himself back again, and
bursting into a loud laugh, exclaimed:
[Sidenote: On to Rome]
“Bravely spoken. Septimius, we must send the Jew to Rome, to teach our
orators. Aye, I know Upper Galilee too well not to know that rebellion is
more easily raised there than the taxes. And it was for that reason that
I invited you to come to Cæsarea. In the midst of your tribe, capture
would have cost half a legion; here a single jailer will do the business.
Ho! guard!” he called aloud.
I heard the screwing of the rack in the next room and unsheathed the
poniard. The blade glittered in his eyes. Septimius came between us, and
tried to turn the procurator’s purpose.
“Let your guard come,” cried I, “and by the sacredness of the Temple, one
of us dies. I will not live to be tortured, or you shall not live to see
it.”
If the door had opened, I was prepared to dart upon him.
“Well,” said he, after a whispered expostulation from Septimius, “you
must go and settle the matter with the Emperor. The fact is, that I am
too tender-hearted to govern such a nation of dagger-bearers. So, to
Nero! If we can not send the Emperor money, we will at least send him
men.”
He laughed vehemently at the conception; ordered the singing and dancing
slaves to return; called for wine, and plunged again into his favorite
cup.
Septimius arose, and led me into another chamber. I remonstrated against
the injustice of my seizure. He lamented it, but said that the orders
from Rome were strict, and that I was denounced by some of the chiefs
in Jerusalem as the head of the late insurrection and the projector of
a new one. The procurator, he added, had been for some time anxious to
get me into his power without raising a disturbance among my tribe; the
treachery of my domestic had been employed to effect this, and “now,”
concluded he, “my best wish for you—a wish prompted by motives of which
you can form no conjecture—is that you may be sent to Rome. Every day
that sees you in Cæsarea sees you in the utmost peril. At the first rumor
of insurrection, your life will be the sacrifice.”
“But my family! What will be their feelings? Can I not at least acquaint
them with my destination?”
[Illustration: “‘Let your guard come,’ cried I.”
[_see page 136._
Copyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]
[Sidenote: The Hoisting of Sails]
“It is impossible. And now, to let you into a state secret, the Emperor
has ordered that you should be sent to Rome. Florus menaced you only to
extort money. He now knows you better, and would gladly enlist you in the
Roman cause. This I know to be hopeless. But I dread his caprice, and
shall rejoice to see the sails hoisted that are to carry you to Rome.
Farewell; your family shall have due intelligence.”
He was at the door of the chamber, but suddenly returned, and pressing my
hand, said again: “Farewell, and remember that neither all Romans, nor
even all Greeks, may be alike!” He then with a graceful obeisance left
the room.
Fatigue hung with a leaden weight upon my eyelids. I tried vain
experiments to keep myself from slumber in this perilous vicinage. The
huge silver chandelier, that threw a blaze over the fretted roof, began
to twinkle before me; the busts and statues gradually mingled, and I was
once more in the land of visions. Home was before my eyes. I was suddenly
tossed upon the ocean.
I stood before Nero and was addressing him with a formal harangue, when
the whole tissue was broken up by a sullen voice commanding me to rise.
A soldier, sword in hand, soon entered; he pointed to the door where an
armed party were seen, and informed me that I was ordered for immediate
embarkation.
It was scarcely past midnight; the stars were still in their splendor;
the pharos threw a long line of flame on the waters; the city sounds
were hushed, and silent as a procession to the grave, we moved down to
where the tall vessel lay rocking with the breeze. At her side, a Nubian
slave put a note into my hand; it was from the young Roman, requesting
my acceptance of wine and fruits from the palace, and wishing me a
prosperous result to my voyage. The sails were hoisted; the stately
mole, that even in the night looked a mount of marble, was cleared;
the libation was poured to the Tritons for our speedy passage, and the
blazing pharos was rapidly seen but as a twinkling star.