we know all. Now tell us what you have done; for I know you have done
something.”
Seti told of his morning movements.
“Do you think it possible that they have _killed_ him?” she asked with
awe in her voice and white lips.
“Sometimes I think not; and yet it would be hard to give my reasons. His
enemies are capable of any crime. Perhaps the only ground of my opinion
or feeling that he has not been killed is the wonderful resources, both
of body and mind, which he has for self-protection. I have never seen a
young man with such powers, and such a complete and never-failing mastery
of them. He is a natural prince and hero, and somehow and somewhere has
had a training to match. He is just the man for great and desperate
situations. He is an empire in himself. I hardly wonder at Cornelius, who
says of him that he has in his veins the blood of the immortal gods. Body
and soul, he is built like a temple. What Karnac was, Aleph the Chaldean
is.”
“It is even so, grandfather,” murmured the maiden; and she buried her
burning face in her hands.
“This gives me hope,” continued Seti. “Besides, as I have told you, he
refused to be bound or to give up his staff; and the same wariness that
led him to retain this means of defense would be apt to keep him on his
guard against assault. Yes, such a great and resourceful nature would not
be killed easily.”
“Say _not at all_, grandfather. Let us not _imagine_ such a thing, lest
it take the heart out of us,” and she shuddered.
Seti looked at her keenly for a moment. She suddenly drew herself up as
she sat, tossed away with both hands the heavy tresses that had fallen
over her face, and looked up with wide-open eyes into his. He laid his
hand tenderly on her head, and sighed before saying:
“It is as you say. We must hope for the best if we would escape the
worst. Aleph the Chaldean _is_ a living prisoner somewhere, and we must
find and release him as soon as possible. So I must go.”
“Take Miriam and me as active, though invisible, partners in this matter,
dear grandfather,” pleaded Rachel. “It is necessary for us if not for
you. We cannot sit here and wait, and wait, with folded hands till
somebody brings us word of what others are doing, or trying to do. It
would kill us. We have kept ourselves alive thus far only by praying: now
we must have something to do to help our praying. You see how the case
stands with me—it is a _necessity_.”
“But what can you do?”
“We can at least _try_ to do in some womanly ways. This will be a relief
to us. You are working by means of the famous University; perhaps we can
work quite as effectively by a humbler class of agents. At least we can
_try_: and our thinking and planning may save us if they do not save him.
In my father’s absence I want your approval.”
“I think you are right,” said the priest slowly. “So be it, then. It
may be that your womanly devisings will be the first to penetrate the
mystery. I shall not complain if it prove so.”
Seti kissed her and departed, saying to himself, “Some trees are killed
by decapitation, but this tree becomes thriftier and fairer than ever.”
_Was_ it decapitation? Well, if it was not that, it was something that
marvellously resembled it. Seti was an experienced man, and his faculty
of insight was great: and I would sooner take his judgment in the
matter than that of most. He thought the trial that had befallen his
granddaughter terribly severe. I think the same. I should be sorry to
have that stroke repeated. Nobly as the first blow has been borne, I
could not answer for a second. There are limits to successful pruning.
A plant may be decapitated once too often. Seti thought so too, and
he carried away with him a greater burden than he brought; for now he
understood that the question was no longer how to save Aleph, but how to
save Aleph and Rachel.
The Egyptian went home praying—praying to _Amun Re_. An able lawyer,
an enthusiastic University, a resourceful high-priest armed with an
official document, were all very well in their place; but they needed
presiding over and empowering by the Supernatural. Would He do it? In
the course of his long observation, Seti had known some striking cases
of poetical justice in human affairs. The wicked had been taken in their
own toils. Into the pits they had dug for their neighbors they had fallen
themselves. But it was often otherwise. The righteous had fallen before
the wicked. Craft and power and powerful money had proved too mighty for
goodness and justice. If good causes had always thrived, the Romans would
not be in Egypt, nor Flaccus in the Cæsareum, nor Malus in the grandest
warehouse of Emporium Street. So who can tell what _Amun Re_ will do?
And yet prayer is the breath of the nations and the ages. Nature herself
says, _Let us pray_.
So the thoughts of Seti prayed, and prayed mightily, as he bent his steps
to the Serapeum.
XIII.
THE SEARCH.
Αλλοτ’ άλλοῖσι διαιθύσσουσιν ἀυραι.
—PINDAR, _Olymp._ vii. 173.
_Different winds rush in different directions._
1. Oh, for Ariadne!
2. Leaping to a conclusion.
3. Domestics at new work.
4. Pharos and some stars.
XIII.
THE SEARCH.
Rachel went and sat by the bedside, in long silence. At length she began
unconsciously to think aloud—at first slowly and with long pauses; then
more rapidly.
“They have _not_ killed him. Then they have taken him out of the city to
confine him somewhere.... The shortest and least embarrassed way out of
the city would be by the gate of the Moon to Mareotis.... Here boat would
be taken. Where would it go? There is no place where a prisoner could be
confined on the islands of the lake or on the southern shore—none in the
pleasure-villas on the banks of the canal connecting the lake with the
Nile—none on the Nile itself till one comes to the fortress that once
belonged to the family of Seti, but now is in possession of the Roman
governor. I have it—there _are_ dungeons there, and Sextus Flaccus has
access to them, and they are well away from observation. _That_ is the
place where they have carried him.”
Her face flushed, and her eyes flashed with sudden decision.
“Grandfather’s way may be sure, but it is slow; and by the time he finds
his way up the Nile to the Setian stronghold it may be too late. I will
leap to a conclusion.”
She at once summoned all the domestics of the household. Did any of them
know of a traveling merchant, accustomed to carry his wares from house
to house along the east bank of the Nile? Several knew of such a person.
Was he a Jew? Was he of the Diapleuston? Was he quick-witted and prudent?
Was he now in the city? Receiving an affirmative answer to all these
questions, she at once dispatched a man who professed to know where the
peddler could be found, to bring him without delay.
In less than an hour her messenger returned with the very peddler whose
acquaintance we made in the first chapter of this narrative. She looked
at him narrowly. He was not an attractive object—what with his poor
clothes, his unkempt hair, and his excessive obsequiousness. But he did
look shrewd and to a degree reliable. At all events she must try him. So
she told him that she had heard a favorable account of his intelligence
and discretion; that she wanted to employ such a man to go up the Nile
as far as the Setian palace on a confidential mission. She wished to
find out, without the knowledge of any armed force that might be there,
whether a young man is held in confinement in the palace. And she thought
that, if he would furnish himself with such a pack of goods as seemed
most likely to attract the servants and others about the premises, he
might incidentally contrive to get from them the desired information. She
would furnish the goods, and, besides, reward him richly for the service.
“Is the young man tall and marvelously well proportioned?” inquired the
Jew.
“He is.”
“Has he the face of Moses, and the bearing of a king?”
“So it is said.”
“Is it not he who on the last Sabbath defended our synagogue from
sacrilege?”
“It is.”
“Then,” said the peddler, “I will do what the lady asks of me—not for her
rewards, though Father Abraham knows that I am poor enough. I will do it
for the young man’s sake, who can beat the heathen at their own weapons.
I can beat them in trade; but it is a satisfaction to me to see them
beaten after another fashion.”
“Have you ever been at the palace?” inquired Rachel.
“Often, in the way of trade. An old Egyptian and his wife, a Jewess, keep
the place when the governor is not there, and are employed about the
premises in some way at all times.”
“Here is a purse of gold. Make up your pack as attractive to these people
as possible. Stay with them as long as you can. Be ingenious. Keep eyes
and ears open. Spare no money nor promises that will help your object.
I will see that your promises are fulfilled. Take the first boat going
south; be put ashore at a little distance from the palace; then do the
best an ingenious man can, to find out whether Aleph, the Chaldean, is
confined there, and, if so, how he may be released. Return or send as
soon as possible. But stop——”
She went to a desk, and wrote on a small sheet of papyrus as follows:
“Your friends have found you. You shall have help soon.—R.”
She handed the paper to the Jew, saying, “Should you find him, perhaps
you may be able to get this to him.”
The man hastened away. What should she do now, and during the days that
might pass before she could hope to hear from the peddler? To sit still
and wait, she felt to be impossible. Was there anything more she could be
doing to keep her heart from preying on itself? She asked the question of
Miriam as well as of herself.
Miriam had quickened and strengthened bodily under the rousing of thought
and care for one outside of herself, and was sitting up thoughtfully
in her bed. Yes, she thought that something further might be done. She
doubted whether the students would be as good at getting information from
the town-people as would some others. The frequent broils and jealousies
between the two classes would put inquirers at a disadvantage. And, then,
the people who would be most likely to notice the abduction, because
most likely to be abroad in the evening, would be the humbler classes,
whose homes had little to attract them. The humble stall-keepers; the
daily workmen hanging about the street-corners; the street-boys, brimful
of curiosity, afraid of nothing, ready to run after anything unusual;
the watermen, that wait for jobs at the gate of the Moon or on the
lake-wharves, would be more likely to notice and more free to speak of,
to people of their own class, the passing of the soldiers.
“Suppose we ask the servants,” said she, “whether they know any of their
own class living on the route from the khan to the Gate—any workmen, or
watermen, or waifs likely to have been in that neighborhood waiting for
what might turn up. If they themselves do not know of any such, they will
be likely to know some who do; and so inquiries may be set in motion
through all the humbler classes. Give the servants a holiday—several
holidays, if necessary. We can dispense with them. I feel a return of my
old vigor—the God of Israel be praised!” and, to the surprise of Rachel,
the woman drew herself from the bed into a chair that stood by the side
of it.
Rachel was too much absorbed in her object and plans to spend any time in
speculating on that mysterious connection of the soul with the body that
enables the former in its roused state to infuse its own healthy vigor
into the latter. But she was glad that the pressure of circumstances had
so opportunely transformed the helpless into a helper, and only begged
her not to exert herself too much, as she carefully drew the wraps about
her.
Rachel welcomed the suggestions of Miriam; and soon the many servants
of that large household were abroad seeking for information, or seeking
those who could seek it better than themselves.
Toward the close of the day Seti appeared to report that Sextus Flaccus
had been found to have been in the city all the previous night, and
that, apparently, no soldiers had been absent from their quarters. But
Draco had disappeared from early in the evening, and had been traced to
Mareotis—this seemed to Rachel a particle of light. No reports as yet
from the students watching the gates and harbors, or from those seeking
traces within the city. Rachel told Seti of the supplementary measures
she had taken for getting information within the city, but she said
nothing of the peddler and his expedition. I hardly know why. Perhaps
it was because she thought the womanly logic of the movement would not
commend itself to a philosopher.
The next morning Miriam was still better—indeed almost seemed to forget
in her new object of absorbing interest that she was an invalid at all.
As yet the servants had made no report; having come in late the night
before and gone out again before light in the morning. Inactive waiting
is an uneasy business at the best; so Rachel determined to have as little
of it as possible. She sent off a servant with a basket of provisions
to the house of the peddler with instructions to learn at what hour he
left the city and in what sort of craft; for there was almost as much
difference then as now in the speed of vessels. She found that the active
man, within an hour from the time he left her, had managed to provide
himself with a more attractive pack than he had ever before carried, and
to get on board a well-appointed merchant vessel just starting southward
with a fair wind and not a few oars. This was some comfort. She prayed
that the wind might follow fast, and that the rowers might be able and
willing at their toil.
In the course of the day another small comfort (small and transient like
the scarcely perceptible shade of greenness that sometimes comes even
in the heart of winter, for a few hours, to some sunny nook and then
retreats as fast as it came) came with some scraps of information brought
in by the servants. They reported that the company of soldiers had been
noticed at different points in the Egyptian quarter; and, on comparing
these points, the women saw that they meant a movement toward the gate
of the Moon. This was a much-needed encouragement to Seti, who came in
the evening to say that the students had as yet been able to draw no
information from the people whatever. They seemed to regard all the
inquiries with suspicion, as if they meant some College prank against
which their best refuge was silence. What so many students wanted to know
they would do well to conceal. So the young men spoke to deaf ears and
silent tongues. Still they would not discontinue their inquiries. They
hoped that all their ravens would not come home to roost.
The next day added considerably to the stock of information. Several
street-boys who were hanging about the gate and wharves on the night in
question had been ferreted out in their various dens by the servants,
and agreed that a company of soldiers with a prisoner passed through
the gate while they were there, and took boat to a larger craft lying
out some little distance in the lake. On their part the students had
discovered that the pleasure-galley of the Flacci had been absent from
its station ever since the same evening, and had been seen by a waterman
steering toward the canal and the Nile. Rachel was now so satisfied that
her first movement was a wise one that she told Seti of it. He was glad
that so time-saving a measure had been adopted; and returned to inform
the students that such traces had been discovered that they need no
longer continue their inquiries in the city, but should hold themselves
in readiness to co-operate in another movement that might be necessary.
He now felt quite sure that the soldiers employed in the abduction were
_discharged_ soldiers—men who from age and other reasons were no longer
in active service—of whom there were not a few in the city quite ready
to lend themselves to the purposes and the pay of such a man as Sextus
Flaccus.
Immersed in her cares for Aleph, Rachel had neglected till to-day to
inquire about Cimon and his affairs. For this she blamed herself roundly.
But she was glad to learn that her father’s solicitor had found Cimon’s
papers very complete as against Malus, had formally instituted a suit,
had been able as Cimon’s official advocate to procure admittance to
him and arrange for his comfort till his trial should come off, that
the chief clerk of Malus, who had been discharged by him as soon as he
learned how liberal of business information he had been to Cimon, had
come to him with valuable evidence. Three suits were to come off in the
following order—(1) The suit of Malus against Shaphan and Nathan, (2)
the suit of Malus against Cimon, (3) the suit of Cimon against Malus.
Marcus Piso was more than satisfied with this order; for he felt that the
first two trials would throw much damaging light on the character and
operations of Malus and prepare the way for the success of Cimon’s suit
against him.
“But then those Roman courts! Who could guarantee their equity! Would
not the Flaccan influence be supreme in them and in favor of the supreme
criminal in whose misdeeds it had long participated! The Most High only
knows! If possible, we must make the right of the case so plain that
neither court nor government can go against it without the whole people
crying shame on them. And this I am more and more inclined to think can
be done.” ... So encouraged Marcus Piso. At the same time, with a shadow
on his face, he admitted that the devil was strong.
The next day was the Sabbath. The family of Alexander were very strict
in their observance of the day, but not so unreasonably strict as to
refuse works of necessity and mercy. Miriam (now wonderfully improved)
and Rachel would not have hesitated to plan and do, to any extent, in
so urgent a case as that of Aleph if they could have seen opportunity.
But, until they should hear from the peddler, what more could be done?
Certainly nothing but praying. So they gave themselves wholly to this
mighty form of working. The God of Israel, so pitiful and so powerful,
and who had said, “Call upon me in the day of trouble and I will deliver
thee,” was invoked that day with an energy and whole-heartedness that
seemed bound to cross all the spaces and make its way to the very
foothold of the Throne. Till the public services at the Diapleuston, the
women were scarcely off their knees for a moment.
At the synagogue, to her surprise, Rachel found Seti seated where Cimon
and Aleph had been placed on the last Sabbath. She went and sat down by
him for a few moments, placing her hand in his; and then went to her
own place. The selections from the Law and the Prophets by her uncle
Philo, as well as his remarks that followed, seemed to her to have a most
positive though veiled reference to the case, which she felt was by this
time weighting all their minds with its certainties and uncertainties.
She felt it good to be there. There was something soothing and supporting
in the sympathetic atmosphere. And so she lingered after the conclusion
of the services.
While thus lingering, she noticed a woman of the humbler class trying
to make her way somewhat impatiently toward her through the slow-moving
crowd. As soon as she came near enough the woman thrust into her hand a
paper rudely folded and at once passed on with the rest of the retiring
congregation. Rachel opened the paper at once, and with some difficulty
deciphered the following:
“He is here. They are trying to starve him. I can prevent that for a
little; but the custodes will take no decisive step till they have had my
promises in your behalf confirmed by your own lips.”
When she had finished reading the scrawl she found Seti standing by her
side and drawing her arm within his. It was timely. Unsupported she might
have fallen. It was a flash of light that she had longed for, but it had
in it something of the threat and terribleness of a flash of lightning.
It revealed, but it revealed an urgent danger. Her agitation remained
voiceless till they had reached home and Seti had read the letter. It
lifted a cloud from his brow. Now they knew that Aleph was still alive,
knew where to find him, could make some reasonable plan for his rescue.
He congratulated her. Early to-morrow they would go up the river in the
galley of Alexander, well-equipped with resolute men. Perhaps he would
ask some of the students to follow at a distance in another galley. They
might not be needed; but it was well to overlap emergencies with our
provisions. At all events, the young men would be gratified—and they
deserved to be. He had never thought so well of young men since he was a
young man himself. Especially of Cornelius. Such unselfish enthusiasm and
untiring effort in behalf of a confessed superior, such hearty use of his
influence and leadership to further all plans in aid of Aleph—why, they
spoke almost as loudly for Rome as Tiberius and the Flacci did against it!
The clouds on the horizon had begun to redden. Was it from the rising
or the setting sun? Neither Seti nor Rachel could tell; for they did
not know the east and west of Providence. It was indeed something to
have found that Aleph was still living (a fact which they had compelled
themselves to assume, but which phantoms with mocking faces and
whispering voices were all the while challenging at both ears); also that
he was at the Setian palace. Now they could localize and focalize their
exertions in his behalf. This was at first a very sensible relief. But,
in finding these facts, they had also found that their friend was in the
hands of a body of desperadoes who were seeking his life. Might they
not succeed before the swiftest help could reach him? Perhaps they had
succeeded already. That single poor peddler was a mighty thin partition
between life and death. So the clouds which had thinned away somewhat
soon thickened up again into the old blackness. Through the live-long
night the waves of hope and fear alternately beat on the vexed strands
whose names were Seti and Rachel.
The wear and tear of such times are very great on some people. A single
night has been known to bow a form as stately as Seti’s—to blanch tresses
as young and beautiful as Rachel’s. But let us hope the best for both
sufferers. One of them is strong in youth, the other is strong in age.
Neither will be easily overborne. Neither is a stretch of low-lying
sands, easily loosened and carried out to sea in rough weather. Both
are highlands, fronted and ribbed with rocks for the sea to dash and
roar upon—rocky convictions of the supernatural, rocky faith in a divine
government, rocky _mens conscia recti_. In this I find some comfort. At
the same time I know that even rock-bound coasts sometimes suffer heavily
in a wild time. Have I not walked on such a coast the day after the
storm has been hurling its battalions upon it and found it ragged and
torn and strewn with ruins—the battle-field of yesterday? And I am far
from saying but that this may be just the condition in which the sore
winds and waves of their trial may leave Seti and Rachel. We must be
prepared for the worst while we hope the best. Should the worst come, no
heart will be sorer than mine.
XIV.
THE ARGONAUTS.
Φιλεῖ δὲ τῷ κάμοντι συσπέυδειν θεός?
—_Anon._
_Does God love to help the struggling good man?_
1. How best to do it.
2. Song for signal.
3. The golden fleece and dragon.
4. Hair-breadth——?
5. Even as He.
XIV.
THE ARGONAUTS.
Early the next morning the pinnace of Alexander was moving toward the
Nile as fast as eight strong oarsmen and a fair breeze could carry
it. Under a silken awning in the stern sat Seti and Rachel: while at
some distance a few stout male servants in holiday attire leaned over
the bulwarks, watching the water ripple away from the shapely sides,
listening to the low monotonous stroke-song of the rowers as they
rhythmically struck the waters, and occasionally talking together in a
low tone.