A WORD IN SEASON
The summer waxed over Egypt. The Delta, back from the yellow plain
which fronted the sea, was in full flower of the wheat. The happy
fellahs lay under the shade of dom-palms and drowsed the morning in and
the sunset out, for there was nothing to do since Rannu of the Harvests
had laid her beneficent hand upon the fields. Across the
Mediterranean, nearer the snows, the wheat flowered later and the Feast
of Flora held in celebration of the blossoming fields would arrive with
the new moon. Egypt could have given her celebration in honor of Flora
weeks earlier, but she preferred to wait for Rome.
These were not uneventful days in the alabarch's house, for Cypros,
with Drumah at her feet, fashioned with her own hands Agrippa's
wardrobe and prepared for his departure, while the prince idled about
the alabarch's garden, apparently oblivious to the call of his need to
go to Rome, in his enjoyment of Junia's fellowship. And Marsyas, daily
more grave, gazed at him askance and furthered the plans for the trip,
tirelessly.
His patience might have continued unworn, but for a single incident.
Late one night, when oppressed by the crowding of his unhappy thoughts,
he arose from his bed to walk the streets in search of composure, and,
descending into the darkness of the alabarch's house, he heard the
doors swing in softly. Expecting robbers, or at least a servant
returning by stealth from a night's revel, he stepped down into the
gloom and waited till the intruder should pass.
Softly the unknown approached and laid hand on the stair-rail to
ascend. At the second step the figure was between him and the window
lighting the stairs. Against the lesser darkness and the stars
without, he saw Lydia's outlines etched. Noiselessly, she passed up
and out of hearing.
In his soul, he knew that she had been to the Nazarenes!
"To-morrow," he said grimly to himself, "I prepare the prince's ship!
There passes a stiff-necked sacrifice to Saul of Tarsus, unless I can
bring him low!"
The next morning, Justin Classicus received a letter, by a merchant
ship from Syria. He retired into his chamber and read it:
"O Brother," it said, "that dwelleth among the heathen, this from thy
friend who envieth thy banishment:
"I delayed opening thy letter three days, believing it to come from him
who lined my threadbare purse while in Alexandria, asking usury, long
since due, but at the end of that time, I received his letter of a
surety. So I made haste to open thy slandered missive, and greater
haste to answer it by way of propitiation.
"I read much of thy letter with astonishment, some of it with rancor,
some with congratulation. By Abraham's beard, it is almost as good to
be fortunate as it is to be single; wherefore in answer to thine only
question, I say that I am neither. Thus, am I led up to comment on the
facts thou offerest me.
"I remember the little Lysimachus, a bit of Ephesian ivory-work, that I
augured would go unmarried, seeing that she was so hindered with
brains. But naught so good as a dowry to offset the embarrassment of
sense in a woman. Prosper, my Classicus! For if thou art the same
elegant paganized son of Abraham thou wast in thine old days, thy debts
are as many as thy usurers are scarce. Half a million drachmae; demand
no less a dowry than that, my Classicus!
"But here, below, thou writest that which hath cut my limbs from under
me and set me heavily and helpless on the carpet! A manumitted slave,
a cumbrous yokel of an Essene, hath given thee troublous nights,
because the lady's eyes soften in his presence! Thou scented son of
Daphne; Athene's darling; Venus' latest joy! To let a Phidian
colossus, with a face high-colored like a comic mask, outstrip thee!
"Thou camest upon them once, the lady's hand in his! Again, she
stammered under his look! And yet a third time, he wrapped a cloak
about her, and lingered getting his arm away! And all these things
thou didst suffer and didst take no more revenge than to write thy
plaint to me, eight hundred miles away!
"By the philippics of Jeremiah, thou deservest a wife with a figure
like a durra loaf, and dowered with nine sisters for thy support!
"Thou opinest in a lady-like way, that he is a Nazarene! Thou addest,
with a flurry of spleen, that the proconsul of Egypt hateth him! Thou
offerest a womanish suspicion that he fled from difficulty here in
Judea! Now, any blind dolt could see substance in this for the
overthrow of a rival. Lackest thou courage, Classicus, or hast thou
money enough to last thee till thou findest another lady?
"Is it not a sufficient cause against him that he is a Nazarene? Or
perchance thou dost not know of them, which astonishes me more, since
Pharaoh in the plagues was not more cumbered with flies than the earth
is of Nazarenes. But read herein hope, then, against thy suspected
rival.
"These heretics are persistent offenders against law and order,
rebellious and otherwise unruly. One Pharisee, Saul of Tarsus,
proceedeth against them, for the Sanhedrim. Whether he is an
instrument of a political party or an immoderate zealot, is not for me
to say; perchance he is both. At any rate he rages against the
iniquity of the apostasy as a continuing whirlwind. He is not applying
his methods locally, only. He reaches into neighboring provinces, and
it is his oath to pursue the heresy unto the end of the world and bring
back the last to judgment. Vitellius is assisting him in Judea, Herod
Antipas in Galilee and Aretas in Syria. I expect hourly to hear that
Caesar hath lent him a strong arm, because the rebels are particularly
rabid against Rome.
"Of course, the members of the congregation are divided, but thou
knowest that even a small number of zealous defenders of the faith can
set a whole Synagogue by the ears. Even so tepid a Jew as I should not
care to rub shoulders with a Nazarene.
"Do I give thee life, O languid lover?
"Of thyself, I would hear more and oftener. Await not the rising of a
new rival to write to me. Fear not; I shall not ask to borrow money of
thee--until thou hast wedded the Lysimachus.
"All thy friends in Jerusalem greet thee. Be happy and be fortunate.
Thy friend,
"PHILIP OF JERUSALEM."
At this point Classicus composedly doubled the parchment, broke it
lengthwise and cross-wise and clapped his hands for a slave. A Hebrew
bondman appeared.
"This for the ovens," said Classicus, handing it to him.
When the servant disappeared, the philosopher descended into his house
and was dressed for a visit. An hour before the noon rest, he appeared
in the garden of the alabarch.
There he found Lydia and Junia, Agrippa, Cypros, the alabarch and
Flaccus, idly discussing the day's opening of the Feast of Flora. He
had given and received greetings and merged his interests in the
subject, when Marsyas appeared in the colonnade. He had taken off the
kerchief usually worn about the head, and carried it on his arm. As he
passed the spare old alabarch, the heavy purple proconsul and the
exquisite Herod, not one of the guests there gathered but made
successive comparisons between him and the others. Junia gazed at him
steadily, under half-closed lids, but Lydia followed him with a look,
half-sorrowful, half-happy, and wholly involuntary.
Cypros glanced at his flushed forehead and damp hair.
"Hast thou been into the city?" she asked with sweet solicitude.
"To the harbor-master," he answered, "I have been making ready thy
lord's ship."
Agrippa overheard the low answer, and turned upon him irritably.
"I have said that I do not depart until after the Feast of Flora," he
remarked.
"The men of the sea do not expect fair winds before three days,"
Marsyas replied, "wherefore we must abide until after the Feast."
"But my raiment is not prepared," Agrippa protested.
"Thou goest hence, my lord, to Rome, to be dressed by the masters of
the science of raiment," Marsyas assured him.
Classicus raised his head and addressed to the Essene the first remark
since the memorable night of Marsyas' arrival in Alexandria.
"What a game it is," he opined amiably, "to see thee managing this
slippery Herod!"
Agrippa flushed angrily, but Marsyas did not await the retort.
"My brother's pardon," he said, "but the Herod has fine discrimination
between cares becoming his exalted place, and the labors of a steward."
Agrippa's face relaxed, but Classicus broke off the swinging end of a
vine that reached over his shoulder and slowly pulled it to pieces.
Junia sitting next to Marsyas turned to him.
"So thou wilt follow Flora?" she asked.
"No."
"Why?" she insisted, smiling. "Thou must go to Rome, where Flora runs
every day. Wilt thou turn thy back upon Egypt's joy and see only
Italy's?"
"Is Rome so much worse than Alexandria?"
"Not worse; only more pronounced. There is more of Rome; the world
gets its impulse there. So much is done; so many are doing. And, by
the caprice of the Destinies, thou art to see Rome more than commonly
employed."
"How?" he asked. By this time, the others were talking and the two
spoke unheard together.
"Hist! I tell it under my breath, because the noble proconsul is
burdened with the great responsibility of declaring the emperor's
deathlessness, and I would not contradict him aloud. But Tiberius is
old, old--and Rome casts about for his successor. But chance hath it
that interest hath uncoupled the two eyes so that the singleness of
sight is divided. 'Look right,' saith one; 'look left,' saith the
other, and each looking his own way reviles his fellow and creates
disturbance in the head. But it behooves thee, gentle Jew, to bid
thine eyes contemplate Tiberius, to do oriental obeisance and say as
the Persians say; 'O King, live for ever!"
"But yesterday, thou didst cast a kindly light over the world's
hardness. Tear it not away thus soon and frighten me with the fierce
power against which I must shortly go and demand tribute," he protested
lightly.
She took down her arms, clasped back of her head, to look at him.
"Light-hearted eremite!" she chid. "Never a Jew but believed that all
the happenings in the world happen in Jerusalem--that there is nothing
else to come to pass after Jerusalem's full catalogue of possibilities
is exhausted. But I tell thee that, compared to Rome, Jerusalem is an
unwatered spot in the desert where once in a century a loping jackal
passes by to break its eventlessness."
"Lady," he said with his old gravity, "Judea is a Roman province. Is
Rome harsher to her citizens than she is with her subjugated peoples?"
"Thou art nearer the executive seat; under the eye of Power itself.
Icarus, on his waxen wings, was unsafe enough in the daylight; but he
was undone by soaring too close to the sun!"
"What shall I do, then?" he asked.
"Attach thyself to a power; get behind the buckler of another's
strength!"
"Power is not offering its protection for nothing; what have I to give
in exchange for it?"
Almost inadvertently, she let her eyes run over him, and seemed
impelled to say the words that leaped to her lips. But she recovered
herself in time.
"It is a generous world," she said, "and such as thou shall not go
friendless; depend upon it!"
When Marsyas glanced up, his eyes rested on Lydia's, and for a moment
he was held in silence by the faint darkening of distress that he saw
there. Something wild and sweet and painful struggled in his breast
and fell quiet so quickly that he sat with his lips parted and his gaze
fixed until the alabarch's daughter dropped her eyes.
"I heard thee speak of Rome," she said. "After thy labor is done, wilt
thou remain there?"
"No," he answered slowly, "I return to En-Gadi."
"En-Gadi," Junia repeated. "Where is that and why shouldst thou go
there?"
"It is the city of the Essenes, a city of retreat. It is in the Judean
desert on the margin of the Dead Sea."
"After Rome, that!" Junia cried.
But Lydia said nothing and Marsyas, gazing at her in hope of
discovering some little deprecation, some little invitation to remain
in the world, forgot that the Roman woman had spoken.
Classicus, who had been a quiet observer of the few words spoken
between the Essene and the alabarch's daughter, drew himself up from
his lounging attitude.
"To En-Gadi?" he repeated, attracting the attention of the others, who
had not failed to note his sudden interest in Marsyas. "Why?"
"I am an Essene fallen into misfortune; but once an Essene, an Essene
always," Marsyas answered.
"An Essene?" the philosopher observed. Then after a little silence he
began again.
"In Alexandria, we live less rigorously than in Judea, even too little
so, we discover at times. Wherefore it is needful that we watch that
no further lapse is made, which will carry us into lawlessness."
"Ye are lax, yet wary that ye be not more lax?" Marsyas commented
perfunctorily.
"Even so. From Agrippa's lips, we learn that thou hast led a
precarious life of late; an eventful, even adventurous life: that thou
hast been accused and hast escaped arrest. Thou wilt pardon my
familiarity with thine own affairs."
"Go on," said Marsyas.
"In Alexandria--even in Alexandria, of late, the Jews have resolved not
to entertain heretics--"
"In Alexandria, the extreme ye will risk in hospitality is one simply
accused."
"I commend thy discernment. But we separate ourselves from the
convicted."
"So it is done in Judea. But continue."
Classicus waited for an expectant silence.
"Thou carryest about thee," he said, "an emblem which none but a
Nazarene owns."
Marsyas contemplated Classicus very calmly. He had been accused of
apostasy before, but by one whose every impulse had root in irrational
fanaticism. He had not expected this Romanized Jew to become zealous
for the faith; instead, he knew that Classicus would have pursued none
other for suspicion, but himself. Why?
He glanced at Lydia. Alarm and protest were written on every feature.
Classicus saw that she was prepared to defend Marsyas and his face
hardened. Then the Essene understood!
A flush of warm color swept over his face.
Without a word he put his hand into his robes and drew forth and laid
upon his palm the little cedar crucifix.
Cypros uttered a little sound of fright; Agrippa whirled upon Marsyas
with frank amazement on his face. After a moment's intent
contemplation of the Essene's face, Junia settled back into her easy
attitude and smiled.
Lydia sprang up; yet before the rush of precipitate speech reached her
lips, there came, imperative and distinct, Marsyas' telepathic demand
on her attention. Tender but commanding, his dark eyes rested upon her.
"Thou shall not betray thyself for me!" they said. "Thou shalt not
bring sorrow to thy father's heart and disaster upon thy head! Thou
shalt keep silence, and permit me to defend thee! I command thee; thou
canst do naught else but obey!"
She wavered, her cheeks suffused, and her eyes fell. When she lifted
them again, they were flashing with tears. A moment, and she slipped
past her guests into the house.
The alabarch broke the startled silence; he had turned almost
wrathfully upon Classicus.
"It seems," he exclaimed, "that thou hast needlessly broadened thine
interests into matters which once did not concern thee!"
"Good my father," Classicus responded, "thou hast lost two sons already
to idolatry and false doctrines. And thy lovely daughter, thou seest,
is no more secure from the seductions of an attractive apostasy than
were they!"
"Well?" Marsyas asked quietly.
"It is not needful to point the man of discernment to his duty,"
Classicus returned.
"Methinks," said Marsyas, rising, "that the sharp point of a pretext
urges me out of Alexandria, as it did in Judea. Thou hast had no
scruples," he continued, turning to Agrippa, "thus far in accepting the
companionship of an accused man, so I do not expect to be cast off now."
"But," Agrippa protested, stammering in his surprise and perplexity,
"acquit thyself, Marsyas. Thou art no Nazarene!"
"No charge so light to lift as this, my lord," Marsyas answered. "Yet
even for thy favor I will not do it!"
Agrippa looked doubtful, and the alabarch exclaimed with deep regret:
"What difficulty thou settest in the way of my debt to thee! Thou, to
whom I owe my daughter's life!"
"Yet have a little faith in me," Marsyas said to him. "And for more
than I am given lief to recount, I am thy debtor!"
He put the crucifix into the folds of his garments.
"I am prepared to go to Rome, even now," he added to Agrippa.
"But--I would stay until after the Feast of Flora," the prince objected
stubbornly.
Cypros was breaking in, affrightedly, when Flaccus interrupted.
"Come! come!" he said, with a bluff assumption of good nature. "Thou
art not banished from the city, young man! I am legate over
Alexandria, and a conscienceless pagan, wherefore thou hast not
offended my gods nor done aught to deserve my disfavor. Get thee down
to Rhacotis among thy friends--or thine enemies--till the Herod hath
diverted himself with Flora, and go thy way to Rome! What a tragedy
thou makest of nothing tragic!"
"O son of Mars," Marsyas said to himself, "I do not build on finding
asylum there. Never a pitfall but is baited with invitation!"
But Cypros turned to the proconsul, her face glowing with thankfulness
under her tears.
"Is it pleasing to thee, lady?" the proconsul asked jovially.
"Twice, thrice thou hast been my friend!" she cried.
"I shall go," said Marsyas. "Remember, my lord prince, these many
things which I and others suffer add to the certainty that thou shalt
be called to pay my debt against Saul of Tarsus, one day! Three days
hence, thou and I shall sail for Rome!"
He saluted the company and passed out of the garden.
"Perchance," said Flaccus dryly, with his peculiar aptitude for
insinuation, "an officer should conduct him to this nest of apostates."
"He will go, never fear!" Cypros declared, brushing away tears.
"By Ate! the boy is spectacular," Agrippa vowed suddenly. "He is no
Nazarene! I know how he came by that unholy amulet. It is a relic of
that young heretic friend of his, whom they stoned in Jerusalem!"
But Junia found immense amusement in that surmise. Presently, she
laughed outright.
"O Classicus, what a blunderer thou art! Right or wrong, thou hast
brought down the ladies' wrath, not upon the comely Essene, but upon
thine own head for abusing him!"