Two men passed out of the Gate of the Sun, the northern gate of
Alexandria, and came to the docks that bordered the Great Port. The
gaze of one man wandered from the promontory of Locrias on the east
to the isle of Pharos on the north, and followed back the dyke that
connected that island with the docks and marked the division between
the Great Port and Alexandria's other harbor, the Port of Eunostus.
"When that ship saileth," remarked the man, indicating a large
vessel moored in the Great Port, "some Christians go as ballast!"
"How knowest thou?" asked the other.
The former speaker smiled.
"Thou didst not see a little procession that came through the Gate
of Necropolis last evening," he conjectured. "Some Christians
brought in from the desert. This ship carrieth them to Rome, to the
lions of the arena."
An unbelieving spirit looked from the other man's eyes.
"When the Christians see that ship waiting for them, they will
recant," he prophesied. "A man doth not readily take shipping for
the port of a lion's mouth!"
"Thou dost not know the Christians," asserted the other. "They are
an obstinate people. Our Lord Severus knoweth that right well. See!
He hath forbidden all public worship for the Christians. Their great
school here bath been scattered. And yet, Christians remain
Christians still! It is incredible! Thou didst speak without knowing
what hath happened. The Christians have already seen the ship. They
are on it! Not one bath recanted. But the ship saileth not for two
days yet, and now, the men on board make merry. Hearest thou not
their voices?"
A slave passed so near as almost to brush the speaker's apparel, yet
the man paid no heed.
But Athribis had heard. For what else but to hear had he this
morning stolen down to the docks? He knew of the little company of
Christians that had been brought captive to Alexandria, for a slave
belonging to another household had told Athribis secretly, "He who
was once thy young master--the Christian, Timokles--hath been
brought in from the desert and goeth on the ship!"
In his heart Athribis made answer, "The ship needeth another
passenger--my young master, the Christian, Heraklas!"
But, as yet, Athribis hardly dared say so, for he had no certain
proof to bring of Heraklas' Christianity. If only he could find
decisive proof, and bring it before the authorities, what a reward
he might hope to have given him!
Yet never, from the day when Heraklas spied Athribis watching the
reading of the roll, had the slave, with all his contriving, been
able again to catch sight of the papyrus. It was no longer kept in
its secret hole behind the bricks. Athribis had looked.
Where else had he not looked? He had hunted the house through as
thoroughly as he had been able, snatching a hasty opportunity here
and there. If only he could lay hands on that very papyrus! If he
could have time to show it to somebody who could read! Deeply had
Athribis regretted that he had not been more cautious in his first
spying. But now, what hope was there? Athribis had set some of the
other slaves of the house to watch, but they had discovered nothing
save the old papyri that bad been in the house for years. Some of
the slaves could read, and they were sure this was so.
Out on the docks, Athribis stared now at the large mast of the ship,
and at the ship's painted eye, and at the sculptured figure of the
goddess Isis on the visible side of the ship's bow, both eye and
figure, as Athribis knew, being duplicated on the bow's other side.
A small boat belonging to the large ship lay floating in the water,
but connected with the ship by a rope.
Athribis dared not tarry longer. He hastened home again.
Closer than ever, as he went his morning round of duties, did
Athribis watch, but Heraklas was invisible.
"He is not at home. He went away three hours ago," cautiously
signaled the slave of the threshold to Athribis.
The slave of the threshold, like Athribis, hated Christians. There
was a secret agreement between the two men that if Athribis ever
should gain any reward for betraying Heraklas to the authorities,
the reward should be evenly divided. Half should belong to the slave
of the threshold, in consideration of his having been apparently
asleep at times when Athribis went out without permission.
The hours went by and Heraklas did not come, to be spied upon.
That morning, Heraklas had gone out to seek some Christians whom he
knew. Two weeks ago he had sought them for the first time to tell
them that he wished to join their number. Greatly had he and they
rejoiced together.
"Witness a good confession, as did thy brother Timokles," an old man
admonished Heraklas.
Almost daily, since then, Heraklas had sought some Christian who
taught him more perfectly the way of the Lord.
Today, as Heraklas sat in a house, secretly studying another portion
of the Book than was written on his own papyrus, a Christian woman
came hastily to him, and told him the tidings concerning his
brother.
"He hath assuredly come!" affirmed the woman. "Vitruvius saw him
carried to the ship with other Christians!"
The before eagerly-read papyrus dropped from Heraklas' hand. He grew
weak and faint. The woman looked at him pityingly.
A wild impulse seized Heraklas. He rushed from the house to the
street. His brother, his Timokles, back again! Back from the desert!
Back in his city-home of Alexandria! And not to be allowed to draw
one free breath, to come back to the house, to see Cocce, to see
him, Heraklas! What could be done! What could be done! To be taken
to Rome to meet the lions!
Heraklas ran toward the northern gate. He bethought himself of
caution, and tried to go with his usual step. He passed through the
Gate of the Sun, and by discreet inquiries discovered which ship the
Christians were on. Then he hid himself near one of the docks, and
watched the ship.
Two days! One of the days partly gone already! Timokles would go
away never to return, surely, this time.
"I also am a Christian!" cried Heraklas aloud.
Only the swaying of the water against the dock answered him. He
sprang up and walked out on the dyke that stretched toward the isle
of Pharos. Opposite him, the ship showed still more plainly than
from the docks. Heraklas made out the prayer inscribed on the
vessel: "Do thou, O Isis, preserve in safety this ship over the blue
waves."
"O Timokles! Timokles!" cried Heraklas, as he stretched his hands
toward the ship.
Heraklas walked the dyke till the burning sun of noon forced him to
find shelter. He went back to his hiding place at the docks. He
watched and waited through the long hours.
At length the day departed. When the darkness covered the surface of
the harbor, Heraklas rose and girt about him the ample dress he
wore, of fine linen, that descended to his feet.
He slipped softly into the water, and swam toward the ship. Reaching
the small boat that floated by the ship, Heraklas drew himself up
into the little craft.
He listened to the lap of water on the side of the ship. A sudden
joy shot through Heraklas that they were so near together, Timokles
and, himself. It was for this he had stayed outside Alexandria till
the gates were shut. It were better to be a homeless Christian on
this water than to linger in godless Alexandria!
He heard sounds of revelry on shipboard. Heraklas pulled on the rope
that fastened the small boat to the ship. The rope was stout and
well-fastened.
In the dark, he began to climb the rope with trembling fingers. Now
he hung by the side of the ship, and now, one hand above another, he
drew himself higher, higher, till he grasped the ship's side. He
struggled over it, and dropped down on board in the darkness. He
waited. No one came. He heard sounds of men that laughed and talked
loudly.
He crept a little distance. A rope dangled in his face. He found
himself under the aperture where the buckets for bailing were
worked. After long and careful groping, Heraklas concealed himself
in the vessel's hold, and waited. He suspected that the Christians
were in the hold, but he was afraid to search far.
He had not been long hidden before he heard near him the sound of a
great sigh and the rattling of a chain, as of some animal half-wakened
from sleep.
"It is some wild animal that is to be taken to Rome," suspected
Heraklas, not without a little uneasiness at his own proximity to
the beast.
It was likely that the creature was well secured, yet the lad crept
farther away. He could hear the sound of feet above him and the
laughter of men who, no doubt, were drinking on this almost their
last night in port.
A sound came from another portion of the hold, and Heraklas
listened, trying to discover whether the living being in that
direction were a beast or a person. While he listened, a faint light
began to shine in the hold. There descended softly into the hold two
men, one bearing a light. Heraklas drew back farther into the
darkness. The men passed on, their light held so that Heraklas did
not see their faces. But the hasty glimpse that the lad had of his
surroundings told him that the beast he had crept away from was a
lion that was securely caged in one portion of the hold.
Softly the two men proceeded toward the direction from which
Heraklas had heard sounds. Stealthily Heraklas rose. He surmised
where the two men were going. He wished, yet hardly dared, to
follow.
The light swung one side. One man turned to speak to the other, and
the light fell full on the speaker's face.
Heraklas leaped softly forward, and followed without hesitation. For
the face he had seen was the face of Athribis!
There were eight of the Christians. Heraklas, peering from a
distance behind, saw the light held high, as the men paused beside
the Christians. Absolutely exhausted, most of them, by the forced
march of the desert, and by the lack of enough food, they were
asleep, and Heraklas noted with a great pity their gaunt faces.
Athribis bent eagerly forward, scanning one worn countenance after
another.
"Hold the light this way--more this side--here!" he said.
Athribis laid his hand on one sleeper's shoulder, and turned him,
slightly.
"This is he!" joyfully exclaimed Athribis. "This is he! I had feared
he was not among these, after all. This is he! I would know him
anywhere! I never saw that brand, though. That is what made him look
differently to me at first. But this is he! This is he!"
"Cease thy prating!" warned his companion, fearfully. "If the men of
this ship were not so drunk, thou wouldest have little time to talk!
Thinkest thou I care nothing for my head? Hasten! Wake him, if thou
wilt, but hasten! Thinkest thou the petty coin thou gavest me will
pay me for my head? Hasten! They think I am guarding these prisoners
safely."
"Small time wilt thou spend guarding them, if thou knowest where
aught is to drink!" responded Athribis sarcastically. "How much hast
thou drank today?"
The wearied Timokles slumbered on, regardless of the light and
talking.
Back in the dark, Heraklas clasped his hands. A mighty sob rose in
his throat. The Christian was indeed Timokles! How worn he was! And
that brand upon his cheek!
Athribis bent forward. Timokles' eyes were opening.
"Athribis!" exclaimed Timokles faintly, as, after a prolonged gaze,
he recognized the slave.
"Ah, my Christian master! My Christian master!" jeered Athribis, "I
see you once again. My Christian master!"
The hands of the unseen Heraklas clinched at that tone.
Timokles looked around, bewildered. A quiver passed over his lips.
Athribis reminded him of home.
"Is my mother here?" asked Timokles. A sorrow deeper than tears
looked from his eyes.
Athribis smiled. "Thy mother!" he said.
The tone was a sufficient answer. Timokles' eyes fell.
"Thou wilt never see her again," went on Athribis. "Thy mother
hateth thee! She is faithful to Egypt's gods, if thou art not! I
came here only to be certain thou wert on the ship."
"Camest thou from her to me on that errand?" asked Timokles calmly.
Athribis laughed, and turned to go.
"Farewell, my Christian master! Farewell!" said the slave,
mockingly.
There was an instant's silence. The great lion sighed from his cage.
Then answered Timokles' low voice, "O Athribis, may my God become
thine, also!"
A laugh came, as the slave's reply. Athribis and his conductor went
away. The light faded from the hold.
Heraklas crept near the Christians.
"Timokles!" he whispered. "Timokles! O Timokles, my brother!"